20 Lines A Day

A Community of Writers and Photographers


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Ravaged

That greedy glint in the eye of the fooled, the eye of the lost

my heart left in the home of the tricked

What does it take for them to wake up?

to stop selling their fortunes

for the land of milk and honey, the land

where the streets are paved in gold

the lies told to lure them

What will it take before the tales

of fools are replaced with the folklore

of the ancient, the contentment of the

indigenous? What will it take for the

mad hatter to end his greedy voyages

into the hearts of the innocent?

I am ravaged like the forests of the Amazon!

Ravaged like the tombs of Egypt!

Where do the tombs rest now? In the land

of the greedy, the violent, in the land of the weeping.

 I am ravaged like the exiled

 ravaged like the land of the tricked

ravaged like the heart of the fool.

 

© [Jeanette Shihadeh] and [thepainterspalate.wordpress.com], [2012]. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material, artwork, or photo’s without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to [Jeanette Shihadeh] and [thepainterspalate.wordpress.com] with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.


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At Ease

Words never came easy to me

now I drink these words with a gulping familiarity, a familiarity

that soothes my throat with pleasure

frees my throat from this steel prison of silence.

How easy it appears to my starving unsatisfied soul

to pick up this glass full of language, full of words

and feel it glide like a cool river through my esophagus.

The wild well of pained/buckets full

of crap, releases like a snap snap/surging

fluently to the surface

it reveals itself

as if it were always there, waiting

waiting to speak. How easy it appears

from time to time the steel snap snaps!

and there you are

free, familiarity; facing directly

surly you speak, words surely familiar rise,

soothing my throat with peace

how easy it comes to be – 

at ease.

© [Jeanette Shihadeh] and [thepainterspalate.wordpress.com], [2012]. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material, artwork, or photo’s without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to [Jeanette Shihadeh] and [thepainterspalate.wordpress.com] with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.


Beeswax Neighbors

the man down the alley and across the street

is my guard, my night owl who beckons the night.

a lamp-post squared and watching; the neighborhood.

his cigarette glows, he puffs

with nary a ruffle of his body he sits; perched

in the early pitch of morn’

as i walk khalil, my fearful chocolate lab

past the obelisk monuments

of beeswax neighbors

sleeping with solid vacancy.

they are resting now

while the streets hum quietly, expecting their return.

a distant lowing bark muffles the gray black dawn

my heart races, moves me along my routine path

allowing khalil to sniff briefly

at the sleeping earth’s musk

marking his scent upon it’s’ dew.

and as the sun’s messengers begin to call

i retreat. while suddenly, silently, one by one

they awake and attack daybreak.

© [Jeanette Shihadeh] and [thepainterspalate.wordpress.com], [2012]. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material, artwork, or photo’s without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to [Jeanette Shihadeh] and [thepainterspalate.wordpress.com] with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.


This Pencil

 

this pencil is my savior, it is my voice

this pencil sings of lost love

of lost hope

the tree of life that grows

the garden of the dark fruit

this wood; it is my paint brush that

caress’ my soul, that soothes my heart

and whittle’s away my time

this pencil, this withering branch that

I sharpen and point toward the East

point toward the past and point toward

the gates of history

it is my mast that floats erect

on the swells of the ocean

traveling toward the shore

lightened with buoyancy

lightened with poetry

this pencil is my savior, it is

singing my tales, singing my songs,

singing the voices of hope.

© [Jeanette Shihadeh] and [thepainterspalate.wordpress.com], [2012]. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material, artwork, or photo’s without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to [Jeanette Shihadeh] and [thepainterspalate.wordpress.com] with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.


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Your Stories

The days I turn wild and rageful are

the days I long to spend with you

I long to see your glorious mind

to hear your stories of lost time

the days I turn to madness are

the days that I feel shackled

to the bonfires of my bosses

to the planks of those hallways

that lead nowhere. I return.

daily I collect paper

like ants collecting the sands of the earth

on their backs

I return,

mad and burnt by the monotony

burnt by this never-ending trail

of the mad, of the stuck, of the gluttony; the dreams of others

I carry on my shoulders and

I return

spent and burnt with the agony of longing

to hear your wonderful stories.

© [Jeanette Shihadeh] and [thepainterspalate.wordpress.com], [2012]. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material, artwork, or photo’s without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to [Jeanette Shihadeh] and [thepainterspalate.wordpress.com] with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.


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Edgar and Vincent

The melancholy of sweet depression

like Poe and Vincent Van Gogh

those who were fraught with despair

have created haute cuisines

of flesh, of reds, of spleen

they’ve picked up their brushes, their pen and ink

their palettes exploded, fit to repair

splayed open wide

their vision, their loneliness and

the haunting beauty that possessed their minds

their art, wild and wanton

masterpieces of expression

born out of tongues that spoke with hysteria

and sights of historical blessings

that spoke about The Starry Night

of Annabel and The Raven’s delight

that spoke of shimmer, shiver and fright

of howling, wailing wicked light!

Vincent Van Gogh and

Edgar Allan Poe.

(I wrote this poetry as a tribute to both of these amazing artist’s. The above painting I did is of Michael Wolgemut, Vincent Van Gogh’s mentor and teacher; I painted him because I love Vincent Van Gogh and his work and was instantly attracted to his eyes, “the eyes are the window to the soul” as they say)

© [Jeanette Shihadeh] and [thepainterspalate.wordpress.com], [2012]. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material, artwork, or photo’s without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to [Jeanette Shihadeh] and [thepainterspalate.wordpress.com] with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.


The Season of Breakdown

At first appearance

fear! strikes my soul

a closer look at

my wounded life

wrings salty tears

out of

my pillow case

sobs

of sorrow

the weeping

strife!

stringing

all my pains

and backward contemplations

around the gilded knife

of life’s thrusting complications

peeling off the layers

of dried out withered dreams

waking centuries of sweetness

beguiling and free!

© [Jeanette Shihadeh] and [thepainterspalate.wordpress.com], [2012]. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material, artwork, or photo’s without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to [Jeanette Shihadeh] and [thepainterspalate.wordpress.com] with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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