shadow gypsies
seeking asylum
from war’s certain death
walk among you
but you do not see
the scars of fear
nor the tracings of tears
tattooed upon their faces
you see only a threat
national security
job security
your way of life security
a distorted image
built upon a glowing self-worth
these gypsies
the walking dead
have left their graves
to find the fountain of freedom
written about in legend
a fable of true humanity
a legend you believed
but that was before so many wars
so many gypsies
seeking asylum
on
your shores
pleading outside
your doors
for one morsel of kindness
so now you see only
a beggar
not the father
not the son
nor holy ghost of humanity
just lumps
excreted from the bowels
of war
you slam
your doors
screaming at the top of
your lungs
that they should
go
back to
their
graves
for they
are already
dug
Read Between the Minds 
Amazing poem, I can still hear it echoing in my head. So tragic, yet so true. I especially like the ending. You are very talented.
Wow. Very heavily written; props.
-david
This is a great work, I am gobsmacked.
Wow, superb! Very powerful poem, as always. Really liked:
“so now you see only
a beggar
not the father
not the son
nor holy ghost of humanity
just lumps
excreted from the bowels
of war”
— Gally
Wow – these words are so true; your poem reminds me to look beyond the first impression that was probably fed to us by scaremongers and the media anyways. Thanks for the inspiration.
Very powerful words, I love the lines,
so many gypsies
seeking asylum
on
your shores
pleading outside
your doors
for one morsel of kindness
so now you see only
a beggar
If only more people could read this poem, could feel such passion and could love more deeply. Well done you. I loved it…x
You r really mind blowing sir. Its fantastic.
Love the life that u r leading.lead the life that u r loving. Be prepared and b satisfied and you will feel happy.
Gud Day.
Visit my blog (skshravan.wordpress.com)
This was a wonderful read. I like the way you associate pictures.
Great imagery in this poem of shadow gypsies who want “to find the fountain of freedom”.
An excellent Poem.
“your way of life security
a distorted image
built upon a glowing self-worth”….. yes, all pumped and trumped up to believe himself larger than some pathetic meanderer merely searching for his truth and peace-giving freedom… but these “larger” fools fail to see that THEY are the grave-diggers, and the depth of their own plot is deeper than a grave hole. Well said and beautifully poignant…Thanks for sharing… Heartspell
that is intense. i could really see and feel people who might be in these circumstances. nice piece!
This is a very powerful poem! The imagery is amazing.
Great poem even though its so sadly true. Did something specific spark this poem?
wow- how often do we think of the other person and their perspective?
thanks C for the reality ck
Nice Stuff! A deep and dark subject penetrating moral and social issues of mankind. However, truth often hides behind her veil. A poem is the best disinfectant for exposing the truth. This poem reads like international poetry.
Indeed, the poem possesses a mystic quality weaved through its fabric. I must say, you are becoming a good storyteller, too.
Poets put things underneath a microscope, for thorough investigation and examination. You have to go where the evidence leads you.
Well, I am intrigued the universal suffrage of war, regarding the weak and the fallen souls. Why does God punish the good but rewards the evil in this world?
Living in the shadows of war devastates family structure, killing our sons and daughters. We are descendants from Adam and Eve. We are each others keeper. Still, we mistreat our neighbors because of cultural differences, religion or the color of their skin. We are all children of God.
If we had a choice of color, which on would you choose, my brother?
Its extremely difficult living in other peoples situation or circumstances.
Today, we living behind the invisible walls of money and technology
May peace be upon you, my brother.
Some weeks ago a man stopped me in the street. He was a gypsy and he was riding a shabby bicycle. I thought he would hit on me or make some sexist remark.
Instead he asked for an opportunity to work.
Not for money, or food. For an opportunity.
I gave him the Romanian equivalent of 10 euro.
I shall never forget the look upon his face.