Natives,
Slavs, dark Irish, moan
for
elsewhere, sigh like an accordion―
they hover
with snake eyes,
offer
melancholy and vodka.
Smoke
rises from their pipes,
twists the
many places before
with all
the next stations―
part boxcar, part gypsy wagon.
They swaddle
in babushka, braid bone
in my
hair, rock me in peat and hay,
croon lullabies
of painted roses.
I am colicky―sleep takes a long time.
I dream of
conjurers, hypnotists
whispering
a distant star―
a scent of
madness and resin candles,
the raven-smooth face of the Black Madonna.
the raven-smooth face of the Black Madonna.
*The Sleeping Gypsy, 1897, by Henri Rousseau
Lovely page,great literary references to gypsies.....the vodka is felt.
ReplyDeleteAh, this…dark Irish and peat. Guaranteed to warm the cockles o' my heart. And it also made me think of "Magdalena" by A Perfect Circle, with its Black Madonna thread.
ReplyDeleteA feel of 'melting pot' in your poem in good meaning I think....do you know 'babushka' means the grandma in Russian...
ReplyDeleteLove the simile, "sigh like an accordian-"
ReplyDeleteNow you have me dreaming of conjurers! I loved your line: "sigh like an accordion." I feel like I'm a gypsy after reading this. (I love gypsy things!) And the Black Madonna, wow!
ReplyDeleteI really love this it has a great dreamlike quality, thick with romance.
ReplyDeleteSighing accordions ? I thought they 'wheezed' ? lol ♥
ReplyDeletewonderful poem of this image from a babes point of view.
ReplyDeleteLove the feel of this piece ... the transience of searching and being 'put up' and given hospitality that is comforting as well as unsettling ... good job on this ... different from so many other of your works!
ReplyDeleteThey are perpetual travelers often mistaken for being trouble makers. Recognizing them is a problem. Dressing might tell. In any case they have been stereo-typed as the first suspects of crime. Pity! Nicely Tess!
ReplyDeleteHank
It is enchanting to read and listen to.
ReplyDeleteI love that last line! I couldn't decide if that was a male or a female Gypsy. Knowing Rousseau, I'd guess female, but the arms looked male so I went with that. I don't suppose it matters.
ReplyDelete..You will always be the mysterious Kate Bush of poetry for me !
ReplyDeleteSo well done
Love the exotic feel of your poem, Tess!
ReplyDeleteR A D Stainforth with a beard!
ReplyDeletePoetry or a visual offering? I drowned in both.
Very nice poem.
ReplyDeleteWow. Loved that first stanza especially, pulled me right in.
ReplyDeleteI always enjoy reading your take on the picture the first lines pulled me in as I wanted to see where the poem would go.
ReplyDeleteWoW! That was pretty exquisite..........as is RAD's beard!!
ReplyDeleteAs you do each week, "whispering distant stars." Beautiful.
ReplyDeletesome nice images incorporated: the booze, the wandering spirit, femininity, Africa
ReplyDeletemuch love...
This is a great piece. I liked the way you chose to go with it.
ReplyDeleteRock me away, your words place me right there among the smoke and spirits wandering deep within.
ReplyDeleteEnchanting ...
ReplyDeleteoh wow, reading the amazing imagery and detail is like taking a walk into someone else's dream, quite hypnotizing! your work always blows me away, miss tess! another lovely poem!
ReplyDeletestacy lynn mar
http://warningthestars.blogspot.com/
You keep quite the company in your dreams!
ReplyDeleteI appreciate you taking the time to read/watch/listen...and for your kind comments, dear readers...
ReplyDelete