Tuesday, November 28, 2006

Happy Birthday, Vi

Gypsies dance because:

In spite of its worries,
In spite of its fears,
In spite of its sorrows,
In spite of its tears,
In spite of its heartaches,
In spite of its woes -
Life is just beautiful,
So dance on your toes.

The image is from the website of the touring New Zealand Gypsy Fair.

First Fire

Many new friends are arriving at the Gypsy Camp,
and all are invited to stand in the flickering shadows
to sing or tell a ballad or story or prayer --
these give more warmth than the glowing embers.

I will start things off -- not a Bard for naught --
and will tell you something of my home and haven
at Sakin'el. Sung in two voices


Sakin’el Hush

And the Bard sang by the fire bright …

“If you will do this in trust and love
then Sakin'el will live anew,
and at each splendid sunset kiss
you will hear the faint 'Silent Breeze'
of ever profound inner peace.”

“but what will I hear,” asked the maiden faire,
with teasing eyes and coquettish aire?

“draw close to the flowers with petaled dew
and look at the reflection there,
while gentle bees caress the wind
and hum of sweet nectared dreams
soon lost to age and vanity.”

“how loud is the sound,” mused the withered crone,
with vacant eyes who slept alone?

“the trees will thunder and the stones will shout
if you stand as one ‘pon the path;
while holding hands can mute the din
and change the music to quiet song
best heard from the lips of a friend.”

“do they tell stories,” requested the youth
with wand’ring spirit searching truth?

“brave soldiers on horseback beat steady drums
and dragons breathe through piercing flutes
and Viking ships sound a longing horn,
calling to arms companions true
to follow a quest most daring.”

“are they ever hushed,” sighed the tonsured priest
whose fervant prayers never ceased.

“if one can be silent they sing the same
and echo spirit’s harmony
to a song of Light and knowing,
where heart strings are plucked
b y an angelic choir in love.”

“can I sing along,” laughed the little elf
with innocent mirth beside himself.

“if you sing ‘belong’ and soon join right in
and dance a lick and whistle now,
then birds chirp in and clouds applaud
the music of humanity,
gifted by the morning dawn.”

“can I then just sit and watch,” cried the child
with remembered touch beguiled.”

“to live life is to surly embrace life
and conduct an orchestra grand,
where you will coax your soul to sing
and blend with whispers of Tegsh
as she accomp’nies even me.”

Monday, November 27, 2006

More Snow

More snow, all last night, and all day today, it just kept falling, a clean white sound suffocating blanket of fresh snow. Few wandered out. It not being walker or cane friendly weather, I stayed in at gazed at it through the window, although briefly I did go out to walk my dog. I negotiated with extra cookies to get him to come back in. He could have played in it hours longer. The city is ill prepared for so much snow, and most stayed home. It is lovely thought, especially in the pre dawn hours, then to walk the dog is ideal, acres of virgin snow and just us and the stars out in it. The sound of the city dampened and my happy Belvedere making like a snow plough with his nose.

more snow

Sunday, November 26, 2006

Walk through the snow with me...


I thought you might like to come along

Friday, November 24, 2006

Papa at Peace

Please read each poem separately,
then together with each line joined as one

Found a glade where.......... Sought in heart today
Fresh water springs .......... recycled Godess tears
Where shady trees ............ speak in shadowed mirth
stretch their arms ............. tapping Mother Earth
over the water's edge......... in a pool of silent birh.
Found a place where ......... there’s found in place
You and I can sit and talk........... souls touch and grace
of times past............... mem’ries of tomorrow
Times to come .......... caressed in yesterday,
And other irrelevancies............ not related but as one.
Found a quiet spot ...................Looking between the leaves
where we can lay ......................and spirits overlay
down our arms..................... around and bound
Let the battle travel ............in rest bequest
on for a spell. .......................foretold as dream.
From Lavengro.................. by the Gusari

Thursday, November 23, 2006

Peace for Papa

Found a glade where
Fresh water springs
Where shady trees
stretch their arms
over the water's edge.
Found a place where
You and I can sit and talk
of times past
Times to come
And other irrelevancies
Found a quiet spot
where we can lay
down our arms
Let the battle travel
on for a spell.
From Lavengro

In Response to: A Place to Keep Our Horses

She Was But a Barn

She stood forlorn in a worn out field,
an aging, wrinkled crone.
Though unsung,
she rivaled the classic architecture of old Europe.

There were no signs or souvenirs,
no mention in a guide book.
No tourists flocked to view her—
she was but a barn.
Her history was hardly grandiose.
She was but a simple monument to the brave
but ordinary folk
who settled hereabouts.

Each winter, snow lay heavy on her roof,
each spring she sagged a little more.
How many seasons could she have stood to tell
that some humble pioneer homesteaded here?

One morning when I walked that way,
I saw the sign, new and brightly coloured,
it proclaimed development—
Eighty homes, a strip mall, and a filling station
would replace my piece of history.

With swimming eyes, I climbed the fence
and walked through the dry and crackling grass.
I entered through the double doors,
one hung precariously, the other one was down
and molding into dust.
Once inside I stood in silent homage
to what soon would be no more.
Weeds grew through the floor,
surviving despite the gloom.
Old straw had crumpled into dust
in stalls where once horses rested.
Swallows in darkened corners
would nest here no more,
nor would they make music in the rafters.
Blue sky shone through gaps while
Dust filled God beams
searched mouse tracks below.

She was alive that day, my barn, old friend.
Her timbers creaked and groaned
as I sat, my back against a crumbling stall,
and whispered my good bye.

I left that day with heavy heart.
She had been a friend so long,
watching me, each day as I walked by
in rain or shine, snow or freezing cold.
I took one last long look, then turned my back.
There was nothing I could do to help her.
She had no historic value,
Only architectural charm.
She was but a simple barn
Built by gnarled hands and sweat.

I walk that way no longer
Now that my friend has gone.

Vi Jones
©November 23, 2006

A Place to keep our horses

Wednesday, November 22, 2006

Nesled by the fire

I might just sit by the fire a bit and litsen to other tell stories,
though a few dancing girls are always in order --
but I do have a story to tell of the hospital.

The doctor said I could not go home until my blood pressure
dropped to a more normal lever (then at 155/85)
I asked what was acceptable seeing that my norm is 126/78.

He said that 130 would be incredible. So I told him to return in a half hour,
and imagined myself by the Gypsy fire with friends and 'forced' my figures down
to 124/76 -- and am now home.


Thursday, November 16, 2006

seeded by Fran's freefall writing course

I slip between the veils of two worlds,
'twixt sleep and dreaming,
between memory and anticipation
drifting on the current of mist rising from the fields in the early mornings,
in the sun's rays, on a leaf being carried down the stream,
caught in an occasional eddy
where I spiral uncontrollably until,
snagged on a hook of rock, I'm cast forth once again.
I drift upwards in the smoke of an autumn bonfire,
bright sparks flowering golden against the night sky,
a flower that lasts but a few seconds, withers and dies.
On a vapour from a pot of stew I rise,
tantalising the nostrils of the gypsy bent over the fire,
sparks of light flashing off her golden earrings and from the lights in her eyes.

Wednesday, November 15, 2006

Dream Seeds for Gypsies

Gypsies Arriving

New Gypsies are arriving in the Gypsy Camp and

Gypsy Dream Seeds

Enchanteur brings fresh dream seeds to the Gypsy Camp for a potting session.

Tuesday, November 14, 2006

divining the divine

Hello, gypsy friends.......tis I, Tambouree, and here is my reading, nut shell, nut meat, and cracked open to say as much as I would have. I hear the low rattle of dried rattlesnake shakers and the violin raising it voice to say I am on the cusp of major change and wanting to fall in love with my life all over again.

whose skirts are swirling to "Take Me To The River"

Knight of Cups - Reversed in the Cover position.Indicates the querent in relationship to the present situation.The Knight of Cups reversed is warning you about an untrustworthy man in your life. He is idle, selfish, and incapable of telling the truth.

Queen of Discs in the Cross position.Represents the positive forces or assets in the querent's favor. If this card should happen to be a negative card, it indicates the nature of an obstacles that is hindering progress. (The card in this position is always interpreted in its upright manner.)She is strong and independent, practical, and very fond of good food, clothes, possessions, and pleasure. She can be a good friend when it suits her, but she is capable of using others for her own ends.

The Knight of Discs in the Beneath position.Can be viewed as a message from the "higher self." It can also reflect the querent's potential aspirations.The Knight of Discs may appear in your life in the shape of a young man who will set for you an example of the virtues of hard work, patience, and gentleness. As a friend or a lover he is faithful and dependable. He is, however, rather intolerant of impractical people.

Knight of Wands in the Crown position.Represents past events and influences that color and give rise to the current situation.The Knight of Wands loves a challenge and is virtually fearless, thriving on the stimulation of danger and risk. The Knight is a warm, generous, loveable character who makes a wise and loyal friend, though his temper is quick to flare up if he thinks anyone is abusing his generosity.

6 of Wands - Reversed in the Behind position.Represents the preoccupation of the subconscious which filters into waking life, affecting moods and outlook. This is the underlying theme of dreams and the emotional undercurrent in the querent's life.The Six of Wands reversed in your spread indicates that you will receive some bad news.

The Wheel in the Before position.Represents the state of the querent's relationships with others.This card indicates that the wind of change is blowing, but the seeming sudden changes that occur come as the results of past efforts - whether for good or ill - though they will lead to a new phase in your life when you will grow enormously. It calls upon you to be sensitive to the ebb and flow of the cycles surrounding you. Things don't always happen when we want them to, but instead when it is their season.

Death in the Self position.Indicates the querent's psychological state and attitudes which can greatly affect the outcome of the matter.This card does not presage a physical death but, like the harvest, marks the end of a cycle in which the seeds of a new one are sown. The card indicates a time of adjustment and mourning, a suspension between the old stage and the new. On a higher level, the Death card can indicate a re-evaluation of your life and a change in your consciousness.

10 of Discs - Reversed in the House position.Represents the querent's environment and unseen forces influencing the situation.The Ten of Discs reversed is warning you that you have become stuck in a rut without realizing it. Wake up and seek new challenges!

3 of Swords in the Hopes position.Indicates the hopes and fears of the querent.The Three of Swords indicates that things have reached rock bottom. Your life is taken up with quarrels and upheavals.

6 of Cups in the Outcome position.Indicates the outcome of the matter.You are trying to escape into the past, which you are remembering as happy and beautiful. Instead of wallowing in nostalgia, use the knowledge you have gained from the past to realize your ambitions in the present.

River breezes,

a nightsong for you.........

How about a song to introduce myself? Something mellow and sweet with the moon as a backdrop and the stars to serve as voyeurs, as we reminisce on journeys taken thus far, and those to come...........

Fields Of Barley By: the ever-famous, yet departed, Eva Cassidy

You'll remember me when the west wind moves
Upon the fields of barley
You'll forget the sun in his jealous sky
As we walk in fields of gold

So she took her love
For to gaze awhile
Upon the fields of barley
In his arms she fell as her hair came down
Among the fields of gold

Will you stay with me, will you be my love
Among the fields of barley
We'll forget the sun in his jealous sky
As we lie in fields of gold

See the west wind move like a lover so
Upon the fields of barley
Feel her body rise when you kiss her mouth
Among the fields of gold

I never made promises lightly
And there have been some that I've broken
But I swear in the days still left
We'll walk in fields of gold
We'll walk in fields of gold

Many years have passed since those summer days
Among the fields of barley
See the children run as the sun goes down
Among the fields of gold

You'll remember me when the west wind moves
Upon the fields of barley
You can tell the sun in his jealous sky
When we walked in fields of gold.........

merely a question...........

Tambouree, the new gyspy blogger has a question. I sent to the gypsy camp a post which I created at my blog "Plucking The Strings of Life" and it has not shown up at the camp. Is there something I must do to place the post in both my blog and the camp, or that not a possibility? and why are computers not friendly to me? I bet it is age discrimination, or else they despise tambourine playing fools! You may send me a reply and then delete this less than rhapsodic post.


Make yourself at home...

When you arrive at the Gypsy Camp you will be greeted by your very own Gypsy tarot reader. She will give you a tarot reading which you can share with us here if you wish.

You will also be given your own caravan anywhere in the camp that you choose. What colour is your caravan? What does it look like inside? What will you do there? Use it as a writing hideaway, a studio or just sit on the steps and dream?

The Gypsies love to hear your songs and stories, so take inspiration from the free and easy Gypsy life and regale us with poems, tales, legends or art, as we gather round the campfire.

A thousand welcomes to our travellers.

Welcome, travellers, to the Gypsy Camp!

Lavengro, the Gypsy Chief (who looks a bit like Johnny Depp) and his merry band of gypsies from all over the world are putting on a big party in your honour. There will be dancing around the campfire, singing, good food and drink, but most of all, you tales, songs and art. We at the Gypsy Camp love to share your creativity, so gather round the campfire, grab a baked potato from the ashes (careful, they’re hot!) and a glass of cider from the barrel and share your songs and stories with us.

The Gypsies have also purloined a pair of barn doors (as is their wont) and laid them on the ground for a dance floor, so kick up those heels! Lavengro will want to dance with all the ladies but he particularly adores Heather and Le Enbchanteur, so you may have to get in line.

Yes you have found us

ah, the tambourine
rattle snake enchantment,
rhythm beat of blood and soul
and call to dance –
tiny footsteps
all in flirtation yet more
as life and pledge and doing
weave in the fire’s blending
of all
and nothing

swirl skirt and jangle coins,
tempt me with dreams enchanting –
and then be close at dawning
when the dew
must be taught
to sing.

Monday, November 13, 2006

Have I found you?

Tis' I Tambouree, sent by L'Enchanteur. Three times I have tried to enter and been snagged by the ugly portal monsters who would have me wander in the dark wood. Three times I have stamped my foot at the doorkeepers and shook my tambourine in their faces. May I come to your fire, and sit with you and rest until I am able to say more?

with eyes peering into the darkness and ears listening for your reply,

Strangers of welcome and glad

The fire is beyond caring;
both as a task for the two Gypsies till awake,
and for the spirit of embers signing –
knowing it has done its job well –
and invitation offered, met and cherished –

“I understand that strangers will soon arrive,
yet never strangers to passion, dance and fire.”

“Aye – the crones are already foraging for information
that their profound divinations might prevail,
and the maidens are playing at bangles and beads.”

“A bit more wine, my friend, and you will be a poet;
but you might just rosin up yer bow
in case music be what they need.”

“Oh, they will all dance – as well they must,
and our tunes are just an excuse –
they come because they hear a finer tune
plucked on the harp of creation.”

“What can we do then to ease their search?”

“methinks to start a pot of stone soup
to which each may add something of their choosing,
and all might share of the joining.”

“and I will instruct that firewood be gather from afar,
such that these newcomers might easily add to the fire
of fall and found close at hand. There is nothing compared
to bring the child out than to add a gift to the fire.”

“and you again might stumble about,
that they can teach you a step or two of dance,
though I have seen your heels touch the clouds.”

“and you might just sit silent beneath the oak
that they might come and learn of silence too,
and know that the space between the notes,
and hesitation of a falling leaf
is also a dance.”

“Aye, we will be ready …”

Sunday, November 12, 2006

Come for a walk with me...

please join me.

Saturday, November 11, 2006

Happy Belated 70th Lois

Happy Birthday for this Milestone, love Monika
copyright Imogen Crest 2006.

Happy Belated Birthday to Megan

Birthday Daisies for you, Megan, love Monika
copyright Imogen Crest 2006.

Digging Deep

Soul Food's Alluvial Mine, with its allusions to digging, is certainly a creative trigger for me. Ever since I read an account of Howard Carter's discovery of Tutankhamun's tomb when I was a young girl, I have been a dedicated armchair archeologist.
Most recently I have travelled to ancient Peru with Hugh Thomson's book Cochineal Red, and to the fabled city of Tell el Amarna with the witty and delightful Mary Chubb. What I love about these writer is that they do more than uncover the past - they uncover the hearts and souls of ancient people, and in many ways, they are not so different from us.
Let me share a couple of their stories with you.
Hugh Thomson attended an Andean ceremony, a gruelling high altitude walk, yet the Peruvians being a celebratory, joyful people, they even managed to create moments of delight during this ordeal with singing, music and dancing. The tales of camps and fires and boiling chocolate Mate to ward off the cold are very familiar to anyone who has been a traveler. These things are shared through the ages and across the world by all who cannot resist the magic of the campfire, the outdoor gathering.
But what particularly charmed me was the Game of the Little Houses. It seems native Peruvians know all about positive visualisation. Halfway up a mountain they make miniature houses and believe firmly that what they create there will be manifested in their lives. They literally build their dream, live their dreams, marry their dream spouse, exchange dream money - even buy dream passports and diplomas. All in the certainty that the dream will manifest.

Mary Chubb was assistant to the secretary of a London archeological society when she wangled herself a trip to Egypt in 1930 as an on site secretary to the expedition. Her witty observations of life on the dig at Tell el Amarna, and her companions, make delightful reading.
The leader of the expedition, the charismatic John Pendleton, remarked one day that the team needed to find a treasure worth 200 pounds to be able to come back the following season. There seemed little hope of that, although many beautiful things were found.
But not long after, the team uncovered an earthenware pot filled with gold and silver bars, stolen and hidden while Akenaten and Nefertiti were still alive, and for some reason, never uncovered again until that moment.
The finds were always looked over by the Cairo Museum first, and what they didn't want, the expedition was allowed to keep and take back to Britain.
The Museum director was very dismissive of the gold and silver bars. ``I do not want all the gold and silver," he sniffed. ``We will retain one half...you may keep the other."
The Bank of England paid 200 hundred pound for the treasure, ensuring the expedition's return to Tell el Amarna.

Let us never lose the courage to dream, to seek the dream, to make the dream manifest.

Friday, November 03, 2006


Comments on the Solace Blog
somehow take me to a campfire --
by whose side I have found a gentler peace.

I have dredged up an Incantation,
perhaps more appropriate here than there --
but who knows.



Sit awhile by the midnight embers,
pulsing crimson angered breath,
sighing life and pending death,
green mem'ries dance in ashes.

Shiver on the barkened branches,
rough and bent, hewn from yearning.
Tarry not 'till sun has risen
past the time of fairie dance.

Hidden from eye and ear of darkness,
know that song and spell are one.
Find whispered hope ever done,
beside the path from Ever.

Living is nigh and bids you enter,
but pass you must unto silence;
flick'ring shadows bring resolve
by the night-fire’s silent stand.

Wednesday, November 01, 2006