When Silence Holds the Why

It has been a busy couple of weeks and I had hoped that the last couple of Poems woulod have gathered a better response or would have been received better than it was. But I did not expect or calculate as it were that readers would have little of no interest in Celtic Folklore. Also I admit that there was too much mention of Irish language words that need far more explaining than what I had time to provide.

Or the following Love Poem that may not have reached heights I would have thought. Yet I keep working on composing Poetry and learning as I compose.

Todays Poem, Comes back to composing a Poem from a word or phrase in mind, Or as in this case “A Fly in the Ointment” was the beginning of what is todays Poem. A nuymber of question could be had or voiced following reading this poem. But I aim to let all of that to you the reader.

Even IF you do find a question for such a poem, Or if you waalk away from this poem with any moral or thought in mind at all? If you do, please let us know in the comments.

About The Poem:

This Poem is based in the now normal structure of Aa, Bb Rhyming with as much alliteration as this poem would permit. All of this is to fit the sound and flow of the poem, giving it a more musical kind of feel. bascally My aim is to have a poem flow easily and sound good as you read it.

There is no great expanded waffling on about things to catch the interest of readers etc. Just this little piece and the usual finish of this section that leads onto the Poem itself.

If you find any thoughts that linger after this poem, Please let us know!

Having said all of the above: Please Enjoy This Poem:

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((This is the closest image that fits the image for I had for this Poem, But it is as close as possible. All thanks go to AI and its attempt to provide the image I asked for. Thus credit goes there))

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When Silence Holds the Why 




Hard-soft footsteps linger, looking long to find,
A level line of stillness, table-top confined.
This Sun-soaked skin of morning, mellow with ease,
A fly in the ointment drifts - unmoved, to appease.


Crystal colours cluster, caught in fragile glass,
Winter’s wand, sun scatters jewelled hues en masse.
Where Nature’s quiet patterns, delicate, deftly felt,
For a fly in the ointment -  its patience long  dealt.


Cold coffee cup stands, silent at the side,
No dread of dried up dribbles, the daylight cannot hide.
Why have the waiting cobwebs never called at all,
While winter’s wide hush lets a single shadow fall?


He slips back softly, shoulders steeped in chill,
To the seat he’d left in search of an absent will.
His breath bends light as the bitter draughts arise,
And there, in the ointment, the fly meets his eyes.


Does the small dark speck simply mark the day,
A pause in the pattern, a mote in the gray?
He breathes, lets the moment settle and stay,
And leaves the why for the silence to say.






Copyright © Pat Fitzgerald 2025

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ENDING THOUGHTS:

Thank you for following me on my little journey, that is composing or writing poetry. If Life is a journey which we all walk on and my journey in creating Poetry is a journey of it’s own. Which I still learn much on as I write.

At times I experiment on methods or way how I can improve my poetry, therefore getting feed back is always most welcome for such as these.

When I write poetry, some readers may be offended with something within the poetry. I do not write to offend, But such are written for reasons I outline in the posts. Often I miss typos and mistakes when publishing each poem. I correct the moment I discover such mistakes.

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Until next time Slán