Gypsy Twist

 

The gypsy walked at the shingle,

Her dress flared out in the breeze,

Her hair tied back with a coloured scarf

As she wandered at her ease,

She fed the gulls at the water's edge

And she gazed back, moodily,

Where the Master of Harrington Hall was stood

As he watched her, through the trees.

 

While back at the house there, on the hill,

His wife sat in despair,

She'd worn her prettiest dress for him,

She'd combed her auburn hair,

She'd flushed her cheeks with a touch of rouge,

Her lips were gypsy red,

But she hadn't attracted a single glance

From his lordship's noble head.

 

He'd taken her as a child, and taught her

How to walk with grace,

He'd sent her off to a finishing school

To learn her lady's place,

She'd learnt to stifle emotion when

It rose in her frightened eyes,

And sat with her needlework and thread,

A work that she despised!

 

Then once she was taught, and tamed enough,

He showed her to his kin,

They nodded with faint approval at

The match that he'd made for him,

They dressed her up in a wedding gown

And mocked, behind her back,

This would-be lady from finishing school,

So open to attack!

 

They'd beaten her conversation out,

They'd left her feeling small,

He'd tried to speak to her once or twice,

But she couldn't reply at all.

She knew but little or nothing of

The world, or its great affairs,

So sat at the window sewing,

Watched him stray in the woods out there.

 

The gypsies came in the autumn,

Made their camp at the edge of the wood,

The Lord of Harrington Hall had said:

'Some colour will do us good!

He wandered out to inspect the camp,

Its caravans, horses and thieves,

But the sight that caught at his jaundiced eye

Was the gypsy, Genevieve!

 

She'd danced in a leafy clearing to

The sound of an ancient lute,

Her smile so bright, her teeth so white

And a necklace made of fruit,

She seemed at one with the humid earth

With a perfume made from musk,

She danced like sin, and she drew him in

As the day drew down to dusk.

 

Simone sat long at the window with

Her needlework denied,

While down at the long breakwater

Sat her husband, watching the tide!

She saw as the colony of terns

Wheeled screaming into the air,

And Genevieve knotted a love-knot

Into her wild, beribboned hair.

 

The gypsies left as the winter snow

Turned white the pebbled shore,

But long after dusk, the lord returned

Came in at the servants' door,

Behind him the gypsy, Genevieve,

Had sat by the kitchen fire,

As he told Simone that he'd brought her home,

And this was his one desire!

 

'She needs to be educated, needs

A mentor, full of grace,

Get rid of the rough and ready parts

Of her rough and ready race!

I've taken it on myself to form her,

Teach her to sip her wine,

She'll have the advantage you have had,

You'll see - it'll work out fine!'

 

She went away to the finishing school

And Simone sighed with relief,

She tried so hard with her wayward lord

That she felt a new belief,

But she lost a child in the early spring

And it turned his lordship's head,

She knew that she'd lost her only chance,

Her marriage, as good as dead!

 

A year went by, as a year it will

In the flash of an eye, and gone,

And Genevieve had returned one day

In a carriage, a bonnet on!

She looked demure as she curtsied low

To the lord, who smiled her way,

But she'd lost her pout, and her fire was out,

And she seemed no longer gay.

 

Now Genevieve takes her needlework

And she sits by the windowsill,

But she never utters a word to him

The Master of Harrington Hall.

He watches Simone as she trips the beach,

And her dress flares out in the breeze,

As she dances, wild as a gypsy girl,

To a lute that sounds through the trees.

 

David Lewis Paget

 

 

Reviews

[Ferg]

Ah, classic...Changing the very quality that attracted him..turning wildness into submission and in so doing, putting out the fire that enticed him to flutter his gossamer wings so closely to her fire. It reminds me of the warning to "be careful what you wish for because it may come true!" So well written as always, David. ;-)

[Holly]

I love that in losing her marriage she found herself. There were a few lines that tripped up the flow, but this was an easy read and still mostly smooth and pleasant as ever. Thanks for the always enjoyable read. =)

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

Ahhh! The inevitability of it all. Karma always circles round and bites us in the rear, and his Lordship certainly got his. Better yet, Simone obtained the freedom that her soul so greatly desired; and knowing that one such as his Lordship rarely learns from past mistakes, we are thereby joyful with the hope that Genevieve will obtain her freedom as well.

Wonderfully written, as always.

Love,

Linda Marie

[R J Askew]

'Her smile so bright, her teeth so whiteAnd a necklace made of fruit,' I can see the attraction over the manfactured doll. '...wild beribboned hair' oh yes! ach, but '...her fire was out...' sigh. Such is life, we want wild things, tame them, possess them, and they lose their lure. And the things we had and too for granted we lose. So your poem is wise and intelligent in its moral stance. But best of all it is delightfully told with a story teller's flair. That is the great thing about your poems, there is a story there, a thread to follow. I enjoyed this one as I fancied the gypsy, but you made me think twice at the end. And hom many tame women wld love to escape their gilded cages to play the gypsy?

[Valentine]

I am laughing as never would I have guessed that ending in a million years..The spited maiden gets her just dues..now she finally has his attention..Just goes to show you cannot turn a daisy into a rose..Another great write mate..love and God bless you and Lyn..Kathie

[Kerry]

This tale is wondrously told and all too often it plays out in real life. It reminded me of two things in particular: the movie "Dangerous Beauty" and some European cultures. It reminds me of the movie because there is a stark contrast in Veronica, who is a courtesan, and the women that her customers marry. It also took me back to old Europe where it was acceptable for men to have mistresses under the guise of hiring them as maids and such.

I have to wonder how many marriages/relationships are like this. Perhaps I don't want to know. This poem has so many layers and is so multifaceted that I cannot begin to describe all the emotions running through me as I read it. Each time I read it I discover something new or it inspires some other thought ripe with meaning. Well done!

[Lena M. P.]

To imprison one, to force a change...so often we do these to the ones we love. An yet, isn't it the wildness that drew us in to begin with? Eloquent as always and delightful. I love the tales you spin. You are as always a true artist and bard my friend.

[Dan Bullock]

Your visuals, as always, are fantastic. The poor girl initially but then changed, withered and replaced. Was a strangely humour-tangled piece of work....yet....deathly sad!

Maybe it highlights his lack of living and the girls who think life will be better, they appear to escape though so bizarrely, they are the lucky parties!

[Mark]

I guess, in the final analysis, it's about image: is it better to be your authentic self, happy and free, though poor, or to take the cardboard cutout proffered you, in order to gain social acceptance and security? I think Simone will never again take the latter path, as she has too well seen the price of it. One day, too, Genevieve will also regain what she WAS, discarding what she made herself APPEAR. Alas, I do not believe Carrington ever will realize that he is cardboard, through and through!

[Wildfleour]

You never fail to tell a wonderful story within a well-structured piece.