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Now, What Else Can I write?

I am now afraid to tell myself the truth

The truth I’m avoiding

The truth that is there, present all the same

Why is it so difficult to let the truth seep within you

The truth can hurt, that is also true

The truth that is true

I’m now real afraid truly

Because I think I would have to face the truth.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Truth- the game of true and lie

It is played every where

Sometimes the truth that is true wins

And even the lie can claim its victory as well

I am not making much sense

That is indeed really really true

But what if the truth is not true

And the lie may have been true, if given a choice

And the truth that is now a lie subsides

This game is amazing

The truth that is true

And that lie that is also true

And the truth that is a lie

This chakra would play its part

The lie may claim its crown

But the truth can also steal it away

Because after all truth is quite true

And the lie can indeed be a real lie.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The true colors of the nature rise

Sweetens the wind blowing by

The true flower emerges from within a bud

And the wind bathes in the scent of the truth

The soil truly nurtures a plant

The wind really blows by

Sweetened with the taste of truth.


3 Comments

Rain

Green gray

this day

warm icy wind

tickles my skin

goose bumps live

under the rain drops

solemn moods

and soaking cries

illicit friends

burning sky

birds no more

intrude

the sun snoozes

behind gray clouds

as if to never speak aloud

again to light

rejoice

rebound

night-time moon

crescent crown.

© [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.


4 Comments

Masks

We often dig our masks out from the drawer
to cover and disguise what we can’t face:
Perhaps a conversation, or a place
where we can’t bear to visit anymore.

We want to hide, to speak in silent voice,
and disappear away from rushing crowd.
Without a word we talk, but not out loud.
For just a time we need to make this choice.

What does your mask look like? A smile when frown
is how you feel? Something you cannot fix?
Instead of happiness a pile of bricks?
A drooping hat instead of sparkling crown?

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