Poem: Shadorma – “Worry Not” #wordhighjuly #introtopoetry


The prompt for Poetry 101 is water. I’m doing a Shadorma with 3, 5, 3, 3, 7, 5 syllables. It is Day 2: July 2 for Word High July.

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A glass of, 

Water poured is clear, 

We drink it.

Leave water, 

Half-way in the glass, half-full?

Half-empty?

—–

You never, 

Replied, never said why?

My vantage, 

Of water, 

Mattered to you so much; you’re mad.

Pessimist.

—–

A fight breaks, 

It’s only water and, 

I can pour, 

It back in, 

The sink, an empty glass.

Your glare smarts.

—–

Argument, 

Just water hon; not, 

As if we, 

Are without

It; as in some countries, 

They are parched.

—-

Where’s your thought, 

When you speak angrily,

It’s me here.

And I drink, 

Entire glass, leaving drop not.

I’m quenched.

—-

Yet thirsty, 

For you to,

Have self-control and, 

Not be mad, 

Offended, 

By my optimism.

I’m realist.

—–

I’m telling, 

You the truth, relax.

Half-full or —

Half -empty, 

It’s all in the timing of —

Life lived.

——

Timpi, calm,

Whatever storms rise, 

We’ll overcome, 

Control thoughts, 

Don’t worry of unlikely,

Scenario.

—–

Let the wind, 

Summer breeze and heat, 

Relax your,

Tense soul and —

Think of each day as it comes, 

Be tranquil.

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

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Poetry: Silence, my Old friend


Sometimes I just need silence, it’s not an easy concept to explain — partly I’m an introvert — and partly it’s the fact that noise is wearing, can tare through your head in a pounding severe as hard rain on pavement; sharp and painful to your skin.
Sometimes I just need quiet because I do my best thinking in my head when you muse your questions out loud, it’s just the way I’m built and your brain was formed a different way… And when I was a little girl somebody told me that it was better to listen, to actually hear and comprehend the various foods on the speakers spread.
And sometimes I just like listening, to her the cadences of sound, to hear the up and hear the down, and understand what your telling me well before I make my peace — I’d like to give you the best advice because I’m weighing consequences and scenarios.
Other times, I like to say something smart — a witty thought– a word sharper than not; I used to be better at these retorts but these days I’m caught up in thought and weighing the conversation in my head on scales — these things I’ll remember and these things I’ll probably forget.
Sometimes I’m just use to silence — a long hot summer with many entrancing books, a family on vacation, a family at work, a dog who breathed her last before the dog days of summer began.
Silence is a funny thing, at times it can be utterly defeating and deafening, and I wish so hard for some conversation, to be around people and bask in a parade of voices delighted, bemused, upset, and hurried.
And sometimes silence is like a tear in a waterless desert. You never knew you had in you, what with being parched — obstructed by a harsh cacophony — you never knew you needed to cry — to be in a noiseless atmosphere — until that day, until water arrived; or until silence greeted you and flowed down your throat refreshing everything within you and bringing back life inside you.
If that analogy works, then you might understand silence.
That silence is completely necessary and quiet completely calming.
You might challenge the thought if you live for the rush of booming sound but some of you know silence and greet her like an old friend when she hushes you goodnight.
And when you find that the silence between you and your friend is a delicious moment you both understand, then you’ve truly understood silence, are restored by it’s gentle breath.
The quiet of the moment, the calm before the storm.