20 Lines A Day

A Community of Writers and Photographers

Missing Her

She didn’t wear perfume, it bothered her.
But o, her fragrance as she entered any room.
My mother lifted any place to heights anew
by being present. How I miss her belly laughs,
her care for others, and her strength of self.
Yes, I have had to set upon the shelf
the music of her coming to my house,
the look that told me, Honey, I love you.
I harbored anger toward my father after they divorced.
She always told me, Please forgive him. It will set you free.
How wise my mother was. I didn’t understand
this until after she had died. Please, Mom, I want you now to know
I have forgiven him. How right you were, and we undid
the tangles of the years. It was because of you.
Is Thank you good enough?
Of course not. Your soft ways of teaching brought the lessons
gently into terra firma consciousness.
Funny, I the teacher, was the taught.

1 Comment

Crowded Room

Svein Koningen painting "The crowded room...

Svein Koningen painting “The crowded room” (Photo credit: Wikipedia)











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.


I don’t know whether I should Laugh or Not!

So smooth, so warm,

And a little spongy,

An ode to my tummy.

Please don’t mind- I was trying to write about something decent but I don’t know how but I ended up writing that stuff. It is funny, isn’t it? Well, I think it is.

Have a good night to those residing now in the nighty(bad choice of word, I know) world like me and have a good day to those, still, in the presence of the daylight.


For God’s Sake, Why did I write this?

That sweet aroma of the asafoetida,

I remember the last time I cooked rice,

With those soya chunks,

No oil, but perfect pinch of salt,

Adding some exotic flavor, I used soy sauce,

And then there was that pepperica,

Along with the cumins.

I breathe in the same aroma-

When I’m here trying to write.

The sweet aroma of the words,

I am stringing together forming a poem,

With those comparisons,

No rhyme, but perfect pinch of metaphor,

Adding some exotic flavor, I use the theme food,

And then there is that mildness,

Along with the silly effort.



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