Unsaid Words Will Die Screaming

Quiet not
the raging mouth that sings
differently tuned

songs, which swim
with conviction, with outrage…
with words you’ve never held
between tongue and teeth.

Living words (and people)
will not be muzzled
without cruelty (or war)

unsaid words
fight to become.
Let them…
(we must)
be something,

do something,
say something…
or lose
everything.

.
the wee notes…
– On these days of turmoil and unease, we must remember that everyone has the right to state their peace, even if we don’t quite care for the thoughts oozing out of their pie-holes. Stillborn words will rot… and once the festering takes hold, everyone must suck in the stench.
– After I finished expanding the poem bit, I realized that I reversed two words from the original blackout. I wrote “unsaid words” instead of “words unsaid”. I left it like that. I like how it flows.
– Linked to the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads (Tuesday Platform).
– Hm… it seems I’ve contracted severe ellipses again… *sigh*.

Nothing Says I Love You Like a Brewer’s Dictionary and a Yoga Frog

I looked at Brewer’s Dictionary of Phrase & Fable, and burst into tears. Fine, I felt the burst… inside. On the outside, my eyes got hot, my lips trembled, and I found myself choked on words that turned into tears… of the bursting kind, I’m sure. My Piano Man gives the best gifts.

Don’t give me that funny look! If you shed no tear over a book that brings together definitions like Early Bird (“the Pentagon’s confidential daily news sheet, officially called Current News, which in 16 pages distils the overnight news report of the greatest relevance to the department and its followers in the White House, Congress, the military and the intelligence community”) and Bugger Bognor! (“a retort allegedly made by George V in his last illness when a courtier, seeking to lift His Majesty’s spirits, remarked that if he continued to make good progress he would soon be able to enjoy a few weeks’ recuperation at Bognor Regis, a salubrious seaside resort in West Sussex”), then your eyeballs (and heart) are made of stone. By the way, I someone told me that Early Bird will be renamed Twittering Crap, to make it seem important enough to the new administration. All right, so I made up the last bit. But the way things are going… who knows.

My Piano Man inherited his fantastic-present-giving abilities from his mother. My brilliant Mother-in-Law gave me a yoga frog. She probably heard about the incoming Twittering Crap, and looked for a gift that would make me smile. The wee yoga frog lives on my writing space, next to my bed. Every time I look at it, I can’t help mimicking its ear-to-ear smile.

The other gift I’m quite crazy about is a Terry Pratchett Diary, from my friend Y. I got it a few weeks before Yule and have been dying to use it. I love planners. And this one is full of quotes by my Knight Writer. I will use it to record my daily wordcount, plus a daily random sentence about something that stuck the day before. For instance, my January 1st sentence is: “Good friends find delight in the existence of skulls”, inspired by a silly chat with my darlings, Emma, Yvonne and Lynne. Speaking of Lynne, if you like planners as much as I do, you might want to fly over to the Insomniac’s Attic to print a copy of her marvelous (and free) monthly planner.

What was your favorite (material) holiday gift, my Wicked Luvs? What made it super special?

*happy frog, ginormous dictionary, and Pratchett(y) planner*