Biography of Scarborough Gypsy
Gypsy has been living in Australia since 1992 but was borne and bred in London. She has travelled extensively and now resides in the coastal town of Scarborough in Perth Western Australia. Gypsy is a happy go lucky person who believes that fun and laughter should go hand in hand with life.
Writing now since the age of thirteen, the poems that she writes are mainly inspired by life experiences. She likes to vary her subject matter as much as possible and tries to offer the reader a wide scope of emotions to experience through her work.
If you were going to read any of Gypsy’s poems her recommendation would be to start with “The Decorator”, “Love In A Teacup” and “Reflections”. These are her three personal favourites.
Please feel free to comment on Scarborough Gypsy’s work but do not worry about scoring as she does not believe in the scoring system and does not score on anyone's work for this reason. Gypsy does however welcome all verbal feedback both good and bad providing it is constructive of course.
Scarborough Gypsy Poems
Forty Is An 'F' Word
I look into the mirror By accident these days For it’s not my own reflection That meets my startled gaze
Alcohol Abuse Is Not An Addiction
Am so afraid of how you feel Listening to what you’ve said Chills me to the bone Our whole existence is on shaky ground
Cup Of Rain
He’s written his rules In invisible ink She’s thirsty for answers But can’t get a drink
Love In A Teacup
Shop of curiosity, dimly lit within wall to wall and floor to ceiling, a museum full of memories bursting at the seams,
This one's a real scorcher A flaming true one too The subject – my 'hot' sister And the things she likes to do
Cry For Me
Cry for me, please cry for me, I want you to feel hurt, I want the pain to dig at you, And make you feel like dirt
I lay awake in my bed Awaiting only sleep Last cycle of the dish machine Stopped – and then went BEEEEP!
Just A Sniff
Sometimes I get just a sniff A whiff of a memory A time or a place Of people
Leave Me Alone!
I’d like to awake Without being woken To just sit and think With no word spoken
Hot Cup Of Tea
Hot cup of tea Now that for me would be Such a luxury Hot Cup of Tea
Paris In Springtime
We were blessed with an angel, The day that she came, Only a child so perfect, Could carry her name,
Once again alone and lost, This empty feeling is the cost Of many regrets and dreams I’ve tossed Onto the heap of mental compost,
My heart sank As I watched her go That familiar pain returned in an instant And I felt hollow inside
Your ever lasting kiss touched my soul long before we had ever met.
I know he hurts inside
He misses his boys so much
But I am helpless to his pain
I tread on eggshells when we speak of them
And I see the signs he gives
That tells me not to go there
Their mother won’t permit visits anymore
Black heart and bitter soul
It’s been a year now