The Nymph’s whisper
awakens the weary wanders;
the melodic breeze loosens their sore backs.
Journeying, on the gypsy road,
sifting through cruel and beautiful places,
with every new sight they take in,
they witness moments.
A bearded storyteller
slowly moves his hand over a campfire;
his voice smooth as midnight. He entrances
a little boy grinning with missing teeth.
A silver haired woman
stands before her tribe,
pointing at a drawing in the dirt,
a wolf baying at the moon.
A little girl
stares deeply into the palm
of a newborn and promises
a long life for the little one.
A band of three
strum their string instruments,
couples stump their feet, and
pick up on the merry jig.
A tall magician
twirls his thumbs and a basket lifts
off the ground, a curious woman
pokes at the oddity that continues to rise.
People watch, wonder about,
and wait for the wanderers
carried by the wind.
A contest entry
- poems tell stories by Virgoan.
1200 points, ended November 11, 20 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
What do you think?
Comments
-
I like when the feel of travelling and age old norm is well rendered into writing. This one didn't fail to do that. I am like sitting here and Boccaccio will be reading a tale in a while. Definitely a finalist.
Thanks for sharing.

