Quiet Zone
I don’t like loud music and fireworks are scary.
Loud noises, in fact, make me nervous and chary.
So though I find music within a dog’s howl,
Loud barking’s a noise that my ears find most foul.
And although I like lullabies, ballads and hums,
I do not like tubas or cymbals or drums.
I like noises with dignity. What I am after
is whispers and titters, not shouts and loud laughter.
So if you’re my friend, this advice must be outed:
words with real wisdom don’t need to be shouted.
Prompt words for today are scary, howl, dignity, firework and chary.
This poem, I think, is very cute.
I must remember to be mute.
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Not mute. Just muted!!! ;o)
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Perfect last lines
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I agree, speak above a whisper but don’t shout….Some see the hearing aids and shout loudly at me, others ignore them and look the other way when talking to me, I must see their mouth when they are talking me. Part of my understanding what they have to say. I ask the waitress; “what kind of pie do you have”, she turns around, looks at the pie case, and names them off… I hear nothing but a mumble~! I get a phone call, some motormouth starts rattling something off at top speed, in a half whisper but a frequency above contralto, I just say “email me”, and hang up. Old age, hearing loss and fractiousness all come on at the same age, otherwise I try to be a nice guy~! However I have always said that I desire a good loud New Orleans Dirge with the best “black group” around when I die, with “When The Saints Come Marching In”, as the wrap up just to let everyone know that I am finished, and who cares if they are loud enough to “wake the dead”….(PS: that’s “wrap up”, definitely not “RAP UP~!)
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The masks make it hard. I, too, like to see the lips of the speaker. One can read the eyes to determine mood, but doesn’t work for words.
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I learned long ago that it is always nice to at least smile and a nod at others in the stores or on the street. This is an old Southern trait that is very nice, often lifting the spirits of others and thereby making me feel good as well…. That mask just ruins this~!.. Though if possible I wave or lift my hand in a gesture of friendship.. I guess that now takes the place of a man tipping his hat to ladies. I am still a southern gentleman, opening doors and other things I learned as a small kid, and it still comes naturally.
Which reminds me of something which happened to me long ago on the first week I was in Algeria.
Shirley had stayed back in the US and being alone, I rented a little Fiat “chinco e chento” and took a ride into some of the Arab villages. My usual ways, when driving, got me into trouble. If I stopped at a crossing to let pedestrians go across, I will normally wave them on, to let them know that they are safe to cross in front of me.. This turned out to be the wrong thing to do there, which I quickly learned (the hard way~!) If you wave your hand palm up, it is a dirty sign, much like our giving them the finger, (but worse) and especially the women take it very badly~! As several let me know in no uncertain way~!
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In Sri Lanka, bobbing your head up and down means no and side to side yes.. Very disconcerting.
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Yikes.
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It is interesting to learn such things in other lands but not always “the hard way” as I wrote about, using my left hand to eat etc. By the way Tami shakes her head side to side to tell me “yes” if I ask if it is time for a walk, or if she would like a treat. I do not know what she would do if the answer is negative because it never is~!
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ha.
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Obviously she is a Sri Lankan pooch.
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“Yeah, man.”
(You may intuit my exclamation point.)
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Just read your article–and a number of articles after, ending with the one on Jupiter. Fascinating. I only knew the “monster” definition of chimera. I had a can with one green and one blue eye. Wonder if this means she was one?
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You always speak in exclamation points, my dear One of your finest qualities.
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