Shrinking Violets

I feel for gentle hearts in this loud world, Ever suspect, dismissed and derided, For long has been the shy a songless bird, That Darwin dismissed as ‘odd state of head’, Jane Austin gave shyness a broader scope, Calling it a ‘moral, mental disease’, And Freud, his fame fending for men no rope, With sub-conscious cladding, a twist of his That smelt of ‘displaced love of self-scored goals’, A simple disposition framed as law, Oh poking fun and scoring birdie holes, In matters straight, cobwebs of gauze he saw, And sensitive violets were on blame, Poor things, shrunk with self-deprecating shame. Violets shrunk with disparaging shame, And shyness drawn from society’s unease, Scarce unto standard mould can ever squeeze, O get condemned— a jade that could be gem. Though sensitive nigh to a gawking gaze, Here am I basking still in benign bliss— A shy soul, they say, more inventive is, And tolerant the more to worldly ways That mistake plane shyness as being cold, Aloof, and worse still, somewhat arrogant, And value those that be loud, neddless bold, I’m happy now that they were ignorant. Let critics bask under ill-informed bliss, I marvel, how creative this bird is. Creative, this touch-me-not kind of bird, Or call it a flower called violet, An introvert of an easy mind-set, One blessed with fecund skills, a bit absurd— Skills lacked by too talkatively inclined, While some greats confess to ‘fainting with fears’ Ere giving speech to some so-called speakers, Some loners lack the skills called social kind. I know, shyness has no one ever hurt, But self that feels cosy under own skin. Let shyness stay forever verdant green, Let it never make me an extrovert, That I live in my own solitude proud, Innovative, gentle in world so loud. _________________________________ Two recent books set my thinking bird brooding over bashfulness: The Man who mistook his Wife for a Hat, by Oliver Sacks; and Shrinking Violets: The Secret Life of Shyness, by Joe Moran. These books advocate that the shy should get a better deal, for they tend to be more creative. Here is the why: musing over, these three sonnets (crown of…) materialized that made me feel a bit elated. Crown of Sonnets | 01.03.2017 |