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The things fly through the air:
the diskettes, the cds, the books,
the sheets of the bed, the blankets and the pillow,
you pace up and down the stairs
you cry and scream..
“Where are the keys?”
I look for the keys in silence
I dare not talk
They do not appear
You slam the door and leave
I sit at last and eat in silence
I am at peace for a bit and I think
Is this God´s will?

Excellent Sandra.....this reminded me of a song/poem by Jacques Prevert (i think or was it someone else) that I'll post later on in the Other Poetry section.

Very nice, Sandra. You certainly captured the essence of what many of us have felt. The futility.

"I look for the keys in silence
I dare not talk"

Oh, yeah. I can relate.

Linda.

Thanks for your words...!!

Id like to read that poem you mention Kush!!

Hi Sandra ~

I really like the way you captured the mood, with his movement and external activity......and then contrast it with your silence and inner thought, the still, small voice inside.

I'm interested to see the poem that you 'compare' it to, as well, Kush.

~ Elizabeth

I used to lost my keys all the time and get really under pressure for not being late, as the time was passing and I was not finding them. Or I would just think they were in my bag, and was locked outside when I came back.

To avoid forgetting/losing my keys I developped an habit of choosing bizarre key rings : A red heart in metal almost as big as a real one (that could serve as a weapon in case of attack when walking in the streets late at night), a little green phosphorescent alian (with red brilliant eyes) that glows in the dard, a cricket on a cucumber-like piece that sings three times, when you press on it (made in Japan) among others. These was those that puzzled people most where they unexpectently faced the thing. The cricket, in particular, had a gift to begin to chant when not sollicited while I was sitting in a bus full of strangers that were all looking at me everytime the bus jumped on a bump and my too-full-of things- bag was making the damned thing goes clear and loud "crickt-crickt-crickt".

This could be very annoying in a life, these little pieces of metal without importance. Until we need it. Reading your poem brings another side of this fact.

Keys kept disturbing my life emotionally until I bought a special chinese bowl just for them. The bowl is placed near the door, and the keys are throning there the minute I enter, and they do not move until I get out. Peace therefore, installed itself, and was fateful to me for all the last years.

Very interesting the poem about the keys, Sandra.

Keys are such a symbol! Also.

Tchoco... I will give your ideas about keeping them at sight to whom it may concerns...

Thousands of years ago, people had achieved a high degree of awareness and an alchemical formula for converting what we know as sex energy -- called by many names, such as Vital Force, Elan Vital, Soul, Chi, etc. -- into a state of divinity.

Their spiritual philosophy held sexuality as a divine rite and an expression of union. Through an awakened consciousness, they practiced Tantrum Sex with an artistic and cultural lifestyle of pure bliss and harmony.

Once your man foud his keys and you made up, it seems you would be guaranteed a great night together.

With much emphasis on the 'sacred feminine'.

ll, get on with your comp. pome!

I did not like this poem.
The reason being, it made me feel uncomfortable.

"Where are the keys?”
I look for the keys in silence
I dare not talk"

Fear echoes in these lines...

Did you like the Jacques Prevert poem Kush posted in the other poetry section? Either one?

No.

Sometimes the pain of memory will sting a wound thought healed ~
I must have had one too many glasses of wine with Sunday lunch ...

Linda Lakeside - I am a troll.
Do NOT feed the trolls!!!

Sandra, it could change the world! At least in this field. So I hope the idea will make its little sucessful path. "At sight" is not enough, it takes a special place just for the keys. "At sight" could be too many places to search for the keys at the last time (believe me, I experienced it).

Oh! If only theyknew how harsh words/energy left painful marks for very long, even if they smile and say "excuse me" after and think about something else like if nothing had happen few seconds after. If only they knew they would not be so careless with harsh words/energy, I'm sure.

Perth, honey, you always said you weren't a troll. Now, you tell me you are a troll. Is there someone else? Please? I can take it. Really. I can.

Linda Lakeside