I joined the local living poets society a couple of years back and this band of word-peddlers has been a great source of encouragement and engagement for me. Tonight’s workshop gathering above the Cat & Fiddle Pub was no exception. Among some poems of remarkable depth, grace and humour, I shared a couple of recent poems, including this one that’s drawn from my life-long interest in Romany culture that was ignited one Spanish summer.
Romany
indentured to the wind
his existence
at times a gentle drifting current
at times a maelstrom
he possesses only
the moon and his own soul
prodded from ease
by the sticks of Gaje with accusing eyes
by stories of child-taking
and warnings of dark magic
he shelters himself
within the smoke of an open fire
within the deep, tunneled web of never-ending
secrets of his people, preserved and preserving, both
