speaking is listening
let that sink in
when we speak
we hear our own voice
so
let’s speak to another
the same way
we would like to
be spoken to
as
we are the main
recipient of
our words
now
choose
wisely
choose
kindness
Category: Uncategorized
The Mystery of Poetry
Why is it that we prefer to read a few pages long text rather than a short poem?
We live in an era where our screen time is measured in hours, when our attention span is limited to a few seconds and when we are generally more attached to the screen than to our loved ones.
When it comes to reading, we often prefer a few pages of text to reading a short poetry.
What reading does
As we read, there is a voice inside our head, which spells out the words in the text inside our head. The thing is, that voice is there if we read or not. However, if we are not reading the voice may often sound like a negative self talk. While we read a written word, either on the screen or in a paper book, it gives us an opportunity to supplement our own self-talk with an alternative material.
What makes poetry such an outsider to our reading time
Let’s postulate here that poetry is hard to read. Is that true?
The hardest part of a poem are the gaps that the reader has to fill.
Poetry offers a helping hand on a journey within one’s mind. That being the mind of the poet, as well as the mind of the reader. There are, of course, different types of poetry, and each poem reflects the state of mind of the poet as they composed the words together.
Poetry is usually succinct. As much as possible is written in the least number of words. The words that are written in a short poem are very carefully selected for their value and combined with the other words to deliver a punchline, or to evoke specific feelings.
Now, the reason we may pass by poetry is that while it does deliver, it first needs our direct involvement. It requires us to feel. To let memories flow freely. The reader becomes part of the poem.
And that can be an unnerving and challenging experience for many of us. To feel, means, to let flow the stuff that is below the surface. That is often subconscious. That is carefully pushed down and protected from being felt.
While most media we generally follow mainly hypnotize and numb our minds into stupor and inactivity, poetry, as if magically, does the very opposite.
However, it may bring up more than our conscious mind wants to digest.
So, are you ready to lift the veil and unlock the secrets of your unconscious mind?
Just beware that the ride may not be what you expect, though it surely will be transformative.
MIDNIGHT POETRY – ‘Hideaway’
atop a mountain
secret hideaway
expansive views
crystal clear lake
only a few know
this special spot
still less can reach it
being that remote
timeworn hut stands a witness
to the ever-changing elements
at such high altitude
unique climate for sturdy plants
local animals make their burrows
in the shorter brown grasses
while adventurers hiking further
set up a tent for a chilly night
freezing cold can be experienced
with a snow falling any time of the year
warm clothes real necessity
four different seasons in a day
the less known part of
the land down under
where furry wombats
give a good night
MIDDAY POETRY – ‘Gran Memories’
soft humming of the ceiling fan
for some mysterious reason
brings up memories of my grandmother
her kitchen always smelled of food
while the pantry hid some treasures
delicious translucent cheese
the kind that contains zero fat
the smell grows stronger
with more time in the open
there were healing herbs
collected in pristine meadows
dried on trays in the shade
used to heal ailments
we collected more herbs
than all of us could utilize
during the year so the rest
was obtained by a health store
in the pantry were also treats
one particular comes to mind
it was a juicy pink chewing gum
that did the biggest bubbles
it was right on the top shelf
so that we kids would not reach
we had to ask for it to get one
a measure to protect our teeth
my granny had some tricks
down her apron ‘sleeve’
she knew how to stop cough
with a help of a fatty onion
another delicatessen from
the seasonal kitchen of my nan
yellow apples from the garden
fermented in a sauerkraut crockpot
they still had a nice crunch
yet were full of the kraut juice
so sweet and sour flavored
perfect to bite into for a snack
granny also made her own pasta
dough rolled by hand
the sheets then dried
on tea towels on a sofa
when we came for xmas
the special folklore cookies
many shapes forms and tastes
all perfectly decorated to savor
xmas at nana also meant
there were mandarins
the fruit signaling arrival
of the winter season
and as the ceiling fan
now blows away the heat
these dusted memories
fly back to their former
location