I want to live in a caravan
With yellow painted doors and a chimney so rusty blue
Drawn by a handsome pony up front
His coat a gleaming brown, his eyes gentle and kind
Aries be his name, a burden so great he bears
Yet never in solitary for his lifelong company is me
I want to live in a caravan
Not confined, not restricted as a free person should be
When the days are bright and the clouds are banished
These are the days I truly cherish
For the green grass spread out so far is my haven
Glad be my heart and my worries thin
I shall run and laugh and skip and sing
Of songs of plants and moss and leaves
Fresh they be from the morning dew
A sight so precious yet seen by too few
A gentle breeze caresses my face, calling for dusk
The sun bids farewell, the moon smiles at last
The land is near silent but for our caravans
The chirping crickets add to the musicals of insects and men
Wood crackles in the spitting bonfire near where I lay
With all my beautiful friends so merry and gay
A fine instrument of strings we pluck and play
Singing songs of comfort and friendships and passing days
When the fire dims and the songs run low
The sandman is king until the morning crow
And when my body succumbs to the calls of the years
Ending my days of running and laughing like a little girl
A large yellow cloth I shall sprawl
On the green grass underneath a tree so sturdy and tall
A book in my hands bearing the tales of the world
Yet none seem so fair than my caravan and travels for sure
A soft breeze rustles the leaves shaking off the dry golds and browns
Whispering sighs of a different note yet in sync they sound
On withered limbs I stand, my grey hair flowing free
Looking beyond the horizon and there I see
Another adventure ahead which I must adjourn
To a final destination, a point of no return
Though too great a price to pay it seems
The wind tells me everlasting peace it will bring
Roamed the earth I have
Traveled far and wide I have
In Aries and my caravan I trust
No more than what I had shall I ask.
.::. .::. .::. .::. .::. .::. .::. .::.
I thought I should explain a little more about this ‘poem’, if you will. Like all the best manuscripts (ahem) I wrote it on pen and paper, took perhaps a week and a half to really sit down and think of what I want to say.
When I was little I read Enid Blyton’s Mr. Galliano’s Circus series over and over again. The first book was about little Jimmy and his family being asked to join the circus and they moved into a caravan. Like most of Blyton’s books (Faraway Tree, Wishing Chair etc) I was caught up in the dreamy almost mystical unreal world that captures a child’s imagination. The traveling circus and caravans were stuck in my head for a very long time.
Basically ‘Gypsies’ is a sketchy desire for freedom. The idea of being utterly free and not tied down to anything more than what is necessarily appeals greatly to me. From Enid Blyton and a lot of childhood imaginations, being free involves fields of green, a host of Mother Nature and a great deal of seeing the world.
The thing is, we all know that such absolute freedom does not exist. As ST plainly said, “remember you have to shit in a bucket and live by the side of the highway.” Even gypsies had more than societal problems. So forever will it remain an ideal.
It has to be that way because we have seen the effects of those who imposed their definition of freedom to the world. What happened later was, it went back to bite them in their arses. However so caught up they were with their own beliefs that a vicious cycle thus came into place; destruction, destruction, more destruction and self-righteousness on both or more sides. A little imagination can be a terrifying thing.
Nevertheless imagination also fuels the human spirit to either undo what they have done, or reach a pact of understanding between various cultures and societies. Two quotes from two movies illustrates this : from Spiderman “With great power comes great responsibility” and from Lord of the Rings “All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us”.
Power, time and responsibility. It is up to you on how you would use it.
Don’t bug me, I’m a dreamer
Besides I would never name my horse Aries.