20 Lines A Day

A Community of Writers and Photographers

Torn Apart

Never would I ever imagine that there would be a time goodbye was in order.

We had a relationship that nobody could tear apart, but that tore apart as fast as a scene flashed before your eyes.

Tears are finished

Hurt will always be there

We aren’t in the same city so there is no possibility of me running into you.

Things change

Season fades

And love dies

Hope it was worth the price for you.


When Silence Ends

When, as a child, did you play happily
by the stream, and come singing home,
passionately sharing your adventures,
only for the beloveds to tell you, “Quiet!”

And when, in your classes, did you
confidently speak your truth, answer
their questions, paint your construction
paper masterpiece,  and the trusteds told you,
“It’s not good enough.”

And when did you feel the whisper of spirit
in your soul, gently guiding you on your way,
and you shared, and they laughed?

And when did you stop listening, painting, writing, speaking, trusting? 

And when will you decide that the darkness has
lasted too long, that the  passion of a new day
can no longer wait, lest  you tear free from your
own skin where you’ve been confined all these years?

That stumbling across stones and briars,
feet cut and bleeding, is preferable to the safe
and righteous path, where no pain, in fact
nothing at all, makes cuts into your soul?

When will you decide that fear of words
without real meaning will no longer be the
prison walls that demand freedom of the captor?

And when will you stoke the flames, when will you once
again tend to the spark, blow the breath of life into
the still-smoldering ashes, collect the branches and
twigs that have fallen in your path, burn them on
your altar, and fuel the dawning of reclaimed light?

© SpiritLed 2014


Fear To Silence

Terrified of losing you

I feel alone,

The words

No longer enough,

I don’t believe,

Can’t understand why.

Feels like you’re a million miles away

Even when you’re right here.

Don’t know where to start

A conversation

Don’t know what to say.

Afraid of pushing you away

Afraid of making a mistake

Ruining it all.

If I’m afraid to talk

Then really what’s the point?

And I still don’t know where to start,

So I’m silent,


With my fear,

My sadness and longing to feel

The love you say you feel.

1 Comment

Break the Silence While You Can………………

A Hospice room Times upA Hospice Room just vacated. The tick tok of the wall clock, the labored breathing through the night came to a sudden, gasp, shudder and then stillness. Then you might wish you would have said…………………   Say it now!



I intended to post this here to begin with, but messed up.  Still getting used to being back, and there are changes to WordPress since I’ve been away that are tripping me up a bit as well. Anyway, I went to reblog it and accidentally reblogged it to my blog too. LOL…so I’m posting it here too.  I WILL get used to this again. :)



Amid the silence

Soft whispers of wind

Soothe my restless soul

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Private intimations

Stun and astonish,

With subtle divulgence,

Scattered scantily

Amid common communication

A monotone revelation

Drifting on halcyon air.

An ominous precursor -

Flashing red lights,

Bells clanging, flags waving

Madly with such tragic bane -

Even clouds burrow humbly,

Shrouding rays of the sun

Awed and moved

Propitious foretelling,

A brilliant full-moon flight

Withering silence

simultaneously freed

And paralyzed

By the escape of such

Transcendent truth

Rationed to a rapt mind.

Trust of the un-trusting

Meandering beyond boundaries

Of a self-conscious mind.

1 Comment

Where Went the Words?

Tonight I cannot think of words to say.
They waved goodbye and wandered out my door.
I’m stuck in silence, and have feet of clay.
Why deal with less when what I want is more?
Perhaps tomorrow when the sun comes up
I’ll find the nutrients on which to sup.
Perhaps my muse will tap me on the head
and say, I brought the sun. Get out of bed.

(a rispetto)

The Tick, Then the Tock

The Tick, Then the Tock

Do you know it? The Tick followed by the Tock.

In the quiet room, in the night hangs the clock.

You sit in the room, you can only anticipate

how the breathing will play out this late.

You ponder the recent events, they keep repeating

and it dawns on you that now life can be fleeting.

Tick’s followed by Tock’s, the clock’s special call

while you watch the rise and fall 

it occurs to you that short of the labored breathing

all you can here is that incessant ticking and tocking.

Soon the spark is gone, the breathing has ceased

but now in the total silence there endures

that damn tick then tock that has not ceased.

There is that clock that hangs on the wall 

that measures the time that runs from us all.

Now when I hear that ringing silence in the room,

I have a sense of doom and gloom

if I hear that rude sound of the tick then the tock.

There is no place to run

the journey has only really begun

for those left behind, who have to compose

that loving prose for those who lie in repose.

My advice to you is you will have writer’s block

if you try to compose in a room with the clock

and you can only hear the Tick then the Tock.

Silence Speaks…

Sometimes silence says what the words can’t tell,

Sometimes all it requires is being on the line,

“AHEM”, she spoke and “HMM”, I spoke.

And that was enough to convey ,

To each other that we care,

Whether the other one cares or not.

We miss each other,

Whether the other one misses or not.

We still think about each other,

And we hope the future would be better.

We wish the better of the tomorrow for each other.

We don’t use words much,

Ahem and Hmm says it all.

I miss her,

She misses me.

I care and so does she.

1 Comment

At Ease

Words never came easy to me

now I drink these words with a gulping familiarity, a familiarity

that soothes my throat with pleasure

frees my throat from this steel prison of silence.

How easy it appears to my starving unsatisfied soul

to pick up this glass full of language, full of words

and feel it glide like a cool river through my esophagus.

The wild well of pained/buckets full

of crap, releases like a snap snap/surging

fluently to the surface

it reveals itself

as if it were always there, waiting

waiting to speak. How easy it appears

from time to time the steel snap snaps!

and there you are

free, familiarity; facing directly

surly you speak, words surely familiar rise,

soothing my throat with peace

how easy it comes to be – 

at ease.

© [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.

1 Comment

The Silent Poet

No, lately I have not had much to say.
Emotion swoops in, takes the words away.
I try to speak, hear only choking tears.
Heartsore, the aching place there burns and sears

as if a flaming spear pierced with its fire.                                                   
A whispered voice: “You’re doing better.” Liar!
My dear sweet cat wove with his little paws
a place that heals so slowly. How grief gnaws.


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