Paul Amrod

Gold Star - 18,243 Points (May 17th,1951 / Chateaugay, New York)

The Gypsy In Me - Poem by Paul Amrod

The gypsy in me has come to his last port.
He will not wander or roam as he did before.
The gypsy in me is truly tired and weary
My youthful adventures have vanished forevermore.
Quiescently, relaxingly calming down
It isn't the sea that made him so dreary
His search never found some treasures
as warm as home's life could always offer.
A calling voice so mystic and eerie
beckoned him to fleetingly return.
He harkend to this alluring sound
It wasn't the wind which blew him so distant
Despite his endearing friends he deplored
the criticism then to relinquish all scoffer.
His passion for excursions kept him resistant
to any other dream. His imagination was adorning
his fantasy to capture each moment of bliss.
Even if the world wasn't round and he fell into the abyss
nothing could of hindered him to feel this very instant.
Peering through his pirate's patch his periscope
caught images of flying fish and dancing dolphins.
He felt liberated from the doldrums of false hope
commanding his personal worth, feeling completely sovereign.
With his amusing parrot he landed on islands
tasting exotic fruits and hanging with the natives.
Exchanging sentiments with a joviality within
his days were halcyon and rewarding at the very begin.
Never remorseful over his challenges his reflecting
brought a smile to his face without regretting.
His inventiveness fascinated for his innovative
nature was a magnet which all did understand.
However awaiting were his silent pleasures
and quietly his lust did otherwise burn
keeping his hopes alive and solemnly believing
the time had come for some tranquilizing leisure.
A maiden he had held in embrace quite dearly
haunted him hours on end so he sought her.
He still remained constant and ultimately relieving
his existential worries and inward brooding.
So solitary and always alone he was conceiving
and it came consistently into his final thoughts her
solace was his final station and only choice.
When he was in utter silence there was no way of forgetting
her cooing and laughter with her enchanting voice.
Thinking daily and exclusively concluding
his arrival at his humble abode was clearly
the reason his trips must duly adjourn.
So the lighthouse on the shore did lead him homeward
Over the waves and through the hurricanes a-storming
this gypsy was heeding no Morse code or higher warnings.
Nevertheless the sunshine came blazing with seraphim gazing
pointing him to his destination guiding forwardly forth.
Nothing could halt him from his wish to reach
the friendly waters of his childhood memories.
Pictures flashed through his reminiscence and as each
mile was left behind him he was enthralled in utmost reverie.
His compass was set to Polaris our positional star of the north.
His resolute decisiveness accompanied his fateful journey
for he sang inside himself this charming soothing melody.
The gypsy in me has come to his last port.
He will not wander or roam as he did before.
The gypsy in me is truly tired and weary
My youthful adventures have vanished forevermore.

Topic(s) of this poem: adventure, homesickness

Form: Ballade

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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, June 14, 2017

Poem Edited: Thursday, June 29, 2017

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