The wretched racket of quiet
has entered this room
dancing mockingly at your gloom
I laugh back
for I am in love with solitude
little had they knew, I relish and catch-up
on conversations I started with myself
by clear water lagoons
they had forgotten
I passed many a moon
Still the dancers; erect ears
set on doom
I will tap on their shoulders
for a spin about my room
laughing playfully
they thought they could
grate my ears with
their crackling croon
of quiet performances
bowing down at my gloom.
© [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.
