Gypsy Wild


Gypsy wild, this beauty of a child,

a patch of thorn in stony soil,

flamboyant and as madly wild

as the rampant yellow cinquefoil


Eyes an eternity of falling

a well of innocence and knowing

brooding Atlantic lapis fire

and then my darling, deep sapphire


Hair burnished as the dying day

tangle of the beds in which she lay

tied in a strip of pale moon light

torn from the hem of summer night.


Face maps her rugged wild terrain

dazzling pebbles after summer rain

skin soft as satin desert sands

brushed with god’s adoring hands


The lightest pink of pale dog-rose  

lips a poem of kissing in repose  

cheeks painted  palest apple blush

seen flushed now in a lovers rush


She stands there shivering in haste  

among the blooms of  barren waste

among the weeds of  summers rush

and the pink of saxifrage crush


Feet bare, shoes dangle from a lazy hand

sun blessed shoulders, glowing tanned  

floral bouquet woven in her hair

tresses falling loose, a copper flair


Smile dangles from her lovers lips

hand firmly on the curve of hips.

I’ve come to answer her wild call

charge with my strength her wild wall.


To join with the passion of her art 

not to tame the wildness of her heart


© Dave Kavanagh February 2016


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