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
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], . 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.
Just a prickly sickly thought,
What if the world was that of,
Harry Potter or even Percy Jackson?
What if it was all an adventure,
The games of life being played.
Well, how much different would it be?
Because in the present context as well,
There are the games,
For life and never forget those,
Being played by life.
Just a simple plain thought,
What if the world becomes the same,
As the world of Potter or Jackson?
How much different would it be?
The hidden rat plays with me.
As soon as I try to catch it,
It would gaze at me.
And run away in the room not lit.
I enter the darkness looking-
“Where are you” dear rat.
Now I’m tired, shallow breathing,
I know you are under the mat.
I am coming to catch you.
As soon as I uncover the rat, so small-
It sees me as if asking now what to do.
But then rolls like a ball,
Out of my reach,
And now I find myself awake on the beach.