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The Gypsy’s Lament
by Lyle Berry (Age: 61)
copyright 01-30-2003


Age Rating: 18 to 127

  The Gypsy’s Lament
Picture Credits:

The Gypsy has no roots,
just a pair of wayward boots,
and a trunk of memories from around the World.
There’s no place that he calls home;
he was born to be alone -
he's a Dervish in a futile, endless whirl.

He wanders far and wide,
poems and guitars by his side;
he seeks in them what he cannot get from life.
He has but to close his eyes,
and awake to diff’rent skies;
his environment can alter over night.

Oh, once he walked his land;
held grandchildren by the hand,
praying: “Let me stay, Lord - I don’t want to roam.”
Now the Gypsy’s growing old;
less tolerant to the cold,
and this emptiness just chills him to the bone.

He’s living in the past;
Time’s evaporating fast.
His beloved friends advising: “You should change.”
Not intentionally mean,
from their hearthsides they opine,
while the Gypsy’s out there riding on the range.

They cannot live his life,
(nor would he wish they shared this strife)
and besides, each has his own cross to abide.
He must face Hell himself;
play the cards that Fate has dealt,
or pack up his songs, get on his horse and ride.


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Comments on this Article/Poem:
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02-04-2003 Kay Lee Kelly    

For the Gypsy in all of us, well done!
02-01-2003 Barry Clopton Lanier    

Nice work Lyle....for all the Gypsy's in us.....
01-31-2003 Giulio Iacobini    

Are you talkin to me?
01-31-2003 Aaron Schmookler    

"poems and guitars by his side;
he seeks in them what he cannot get from life."

This is a wonderfully juicy line, Lyle, in a juicy poem.
01-31-2003 Walter Jones    

Great Poem,
Walt
Visitor Reads: 329
Total Reads: 427
Comments: 5

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