Don’t watch. Wait, no, I know you have to count
the minutes so you know how long it lasts,
this seizure with its dynamite that blasts
my brain to temporary shreds. With gaunt
eyes, lost in fog now, I depend on you.
You may not know just what to do, but still,
I beg: Don’t let it drive my avenue.
Please, help to quiet down its voice so shrill.
Brain firing function,
Seizure stopping steps,
World blacks out,
FLASH !
Out blacks world,
Steps stopping,
Seizure function firing brain.
Beware: It is quite difficult- at least I think so.
Here are the rules-
Here is what I wrote(its a little silly)-
shadow in light,
brain’s light is
slight
is light, brain’s light
in shadow.
Brain.
Thinking machine
Not working today.
Busy week end, tired.
Sleep.
Sleep.
Refresh me.
Not working today.
Too much to do.
Work.
Work.
Exhibition coming.
Not working today.
Running around in circles.
Stop.
Stop.
Do nothing?
Not working today?
Need off switch for
Brain.
What is the relation of this picture with the giddy thought?- I don’t know. I just felt like posting this picture!
A giddy thought strikes my mind
I know now what to think of
What to think about for another day
And torture myself by thinking about
it again and again till the mind bursts
with pain, for pain is better than confusion
prevailing thoroughly, in an amazing way
within the nerves and the brain.
How interesting to see that I’ve been writing many these, but with a slightly different rhyme scheme. They go abab ccdd. Anne, I think I’ll use your topic, if you don’t mind.
My Brain
With all its neurons doing what they should,
my brain stays wide awake and in the light…
unless, that is, a seizure draws a hood
of darkness down. Then all things turn to night.
I love to use my brain and use it well,
but hate when seizure throws it into hell.
Most times it functions in the brightest sun,
although I’m never sure what I have won.
If you’d like to try a Rispetto, here are the rules. Shadow Poetry – Rispetto
Here’s my effort, with a bit of frustration and a bit of humor. :)
My Brain (A Rispetto)
It seems that my brain has a mind of its own
Won’t do what I tell it, as hard as I try
The thoughts just keep coming, won’t leave me alone
I’m trying to focus, it leads me to sigh
~~~
I’m needing to study, and did just a bit
The dumb doorbell rang, and I said, “Oh, I quit!”
I’ll sit here a moment and take a deep breath
And then get back to it, though it be my death!
A seizure plays its tunes in minor key,
the untuned music in a minor key
that screeches STOP! to all that pleases me.
Its dissonance makes nonsense in my brain,
nonsensical the dissonance. My brain
no longer hears the rhythms as they wane.
I play piano, use my hands with skill.
The many lessons have increased my skill,
but seizures cause my hands to then be still.
I love my life and want to live it well,
I try, o do I try to live it well
but seizure often throws me into hell.
I wait for melodies and songs to hear,
but dread the obbligato cast in fear.
The lone walker going by the war-field,
Without nothing that could be used for a shield.
He was there weeping for the ones that have gone,
Silently with no noise what he did was moan.
He lost everything to the war,
Now he is left crying with a throat so sore.
He was crying, weeping all alone,
Never could he see his child grown.
The small child who was still in his wife’s womb,
Now he has to be buried within the tomb.
He had nothing else to live for but his pain,
Which is there settled for eternity in his brain.
But all of a sudden a voice within him speak,
The voice he did seek-
“Do not cry for the dead”, it said in a firm way,
Now he knew there would come a new day.
He won’t lose himself like he lost his beloved as such,
He would now try to survive, he knew this much.
He would live for his wife,
Dedicate to her his life.
He would live for that child, he could never know,
And love the people once again to show,
That he is still alive even after what happened to him,
And would outcast his grief full to the brim.
He would try end all this violence, so futile,
He would have to walk on a long mile.
Never would he allow anyone else to face,
He would pray to the Almighty for his grace.
The lone walker would live another life,
This time he would not allow the use of knife.
He would live, he would save,
So that not another person go in this way to grave.
The lone walker going by the war field,
With nothing that could be used as a shield,
Because he doesn’t require it anymore,
He has gained after all the ultimate lore.
The furniture that occupies my mind
takes too much space. This room is not defined
by loveliness or style, is not a place
where I can live without the frightening chase
of seizures that move in as residents.
They hide within my brain as if in tents,
and I can’t rest in my own living room.
I feel entrapped as in a stone-cold tomb.
Sadness abounds the narrow soul
to control, explain
fear rides side by side
gripping at the throat!
of life
listless and in stupor
they contain all the pain
too much to swallow in the hollow
shallow smallness of their brain.
Narrow souls can never dance
if by chance
they entrance
then – the locks on their minds slam shut!
to “forever time”
destroying the essence of the sublime
forgetting the spark that lit their fire
snuffing it out to forsake
their desire
in control the narrow soul
is consuming sadness whole.
© [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.
Bird, if I may…your words “I’ve had a love-hate relationship with my brain…” stirred something in me and I hope it’s all right that I bounce off in my own direction from these words.
I always thought my brain would serve me well,
until, that is, it swerved and went to hell,
showing me how a seizure could attack
and throw me off my balance, off my track.
