Spoken Face

Spoken Face

We look at many faces during a normal day and in doing so we seldom seek something beyond the superficial nor apply any expectation to acquiring a result from indulging such observations.

Realize that this can also result in missing out on what might otherwise be seen and appreciated in the introduction of a new and uniquely unveiled personality that was previously invisible.

A face’s shape or proportions or features are most often genetically prescribed but, the individual characteristics that reflect in the evolving face’s profile can put pen to paper and tell of a very detailed story.

Next time you look at someone’s face and if only for a few extra moments, look at that face of whomever as if you were studying a map.

A map that could provide you directions for how to become familiar with the map’s legend of symbolized markings.

In choosing to re-focus your attention to the details between the lines on just such a map it can illuminate the obscurities that can be lost in the shadows.

In those few extra seconds might I suggest that one also attempt to delve into the meaning of scaled weight for the worth of another man’s soul?

In the reminisces of expressions that are spoken between the lines on a face doesn’t something equate as valued. For in these lines of face it tells us of a story that could otherwise lay hidden.

In those furrowed shadows of time’s wrinkled weathering doesn’t the investments of one’s most precious commodity “time” scribe meaning to the lines that are our face’s story.

For each recorded day’s events leaves a new line as it’s mark in a silent unspoken sentence or paragraph for deeper meaning to one’s story?

I believe in entertaining a truer meaning for others, we come to appreciate a deeper meaning for our selves.

As well, I also believe that it is a wonderful opportunity to just spend a few extra moments pondering the story behind the lines on a stranger’s face before becoming distracted with the words.

These lines can be easily written off (no pun intended) in the midst of our hurried day to day distractions as simply being wrinkles but, really they are more like a map of one’s personal journey.

While traveling over hills and valleys, struggles and pain, life and death, these experiences become manifested in the physical affirmations of one’s self expressions one line at a time!

While engaging conversation with a new or old face, a good conversationalist will seek meaning from the faintest of lines.

All are connected in a curious way to an involuntary subordination that causes an uncloaking of the minds reflexology.

The face reacts as a given subject revisits the origin of the spark of emotional ignition or the splash of cold water extinguishing the flames of passion and desire.

The commandeered nerves in a face can offer up the opportunity of refinement for one’s observational skills, if such skills have a desire to become more developed.

In attempting to distinguish who is residing behind those lines, a glimpse, a twitch, and or furrowed frown can actually tell a truer story for the way-point of the subliminal mind’s heading.

Our unconscious minds can lay sleeping in its zone of imagery comfort all wrapped up in the lambskin swaddling of self involved illusions.

Comfort can arise while assuming obscurity amongst the wrinkles and the transparencies in meaning may even offer up a false identity.

Imagine a singular view by those on the other side of a one-way mirror that have become familiar with such defrauds and distractions.

As part of being a good listener the generosity in bestowing your attention to exchanging a broader perspective for dialog can also become recognized by those mindful.

Those who are willing to be more observant allow an exchange to become something more than just mere words that takes place.

Most all of us recognize when such wordless connections occur and these are generally marked by the differences between being spoken to or listen to.

As we scale the value for reciprocation or inaction in our responses remember most often we only choose to fool ourselves in turning deaf ear to the lines of a Spoken Face.

This is a poetic summation of what I see while peering at the obtuse meanings that can span the test of time over generations of life.

Spoken Face

In Old Man’s frowns and folds in brows lays days and months and years, of places been and choice in sins and fears n’ tears and scolds to ears.

Peer deep and seek to sneak a peek of shadowed faint resemblance, in life bestowed before the bows took aim upon defendant.

‘Tis seen the screams when face is clean of furrowed face’s heart. In wrinkled nests, hides life’s protests of days ‘n months stowed junk in trunks ‘n lows ‘n funks and times of drunks as lines scribe words to mimes.

In peering deep some run oblique across thy face afar, yet told in lines expressions chime of fears in floors that squeaked.

As curled toes caused face new folds in anguished contemplations, forlornness cares and year’s despair ceased smiling eyes suasion’s.

In Celtic tones and Gaelic groans the strings of lute strum song’s refutes, and creases seen are face’s screams of soundless toils of genes embroiled. They’ve snuff lit fuse and give few clues to paths of alabaster.

‘Tis not from shadows cast between nor cereous coating that shines of glean, crevice face reflects the race ‘twas won or lost thereafter.

In days of long and summers gone the arms of clock chime rhythmic song, in ticks of tock from sound of clock a wrinkled face hears tunes that mock.

The wrinkles quote half octave’s notes between thy whispered tones, as hovered cast of history’s past strum songs twill lead them home.

In forehead’s folds a life is told in silent screams and buried scenes, as wrinkled folds caused twitch and pulls contorting soul’s response to tolls and debit’s scar from plow spade’s mar shaped maze on face bizarre.

May truth be told see wise in old respect the winds form breath of cold, and know that some have ran the race and wear the scars on wrinkled face.

Was lump in throat and pain’s disguise that furrows brow just kept dry eyes, twas life’s obtuse in action’s ruse, gave cause to cringe in missing friends.

Look inside those deep set eyes and understand life’s reasons why, there’s no disgrace in wrinkled face for lines describe both love and pride and men inside don’t run nor hide from bellowed crows and arrow’s foe.

Imagine spans of years my dear in walks alone in headings feared in sun baked rays and foggy haze as travels measured girth of earth.

In clefted words that seem absurd or sticky resin gum from myrrh, was Magi gift of frankincense that equaled gold in wise men’s sense.

Take time in passing verdicts, on the men of wrinkled face, for some have lived life’s journey, adding wrinkle for each day, and some will still be yearning for a life of once they played.

In smoky plumes of yellow moons and times of life be birthed was views amused in times to loose that wrinkled coat of worth.

Excuse reputes thy reasoned truth for settings in thy ways, ‘twas anchored views while in the pews gave cause for hope and pray.

So know of source in silence, that came from blood and bone, in solemn stares and old man’s moans, there lives a man of years of wise, who now wears face in lines disguise, and from those lines of measured time these men in view with lines askew, learned weight of truth and love’s abuse and cost and loss of life to youth…

Michael Chaffee – 3-1-14

Click on image below to see the 8-year old child…

Spoken Face

There is an eight year old child that resides in each and every one of us.


The Eight Year Old is what we represent no matter how long we live, this is the truest form of our soul’s character.


RETURN TO HOME PAGE

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Writing with the Veiled…