Category Archives: allowing

Breath

Image result for flowers blossom spring time

As wisps spin forth,

wind, words and swords,

eventually settling down,

beneath it all a humming sound,

of water that fell,

slowly into the well,

to which we can return,

any moment in time, to discern,

the storyline,

which we can move on or rewind,

for there is more still to find.

Keep walking on,

Keep playing your song,

the tones, hums and hues,

as we refuse,

to succumb to their web,

let us paint this city in red,

with words unsaid,

they insist but we have no regrets,

choices make us as we move ahead.

Faatima

Do as you please,

Image result for realm of fantasy

It is burning me,

how these days I just cannot seem pen down and weave,

fairy-tales and stories,

from a web so tangled and paper creased,

call it brain freeze,

temporarily blocked I cannot receive,

inspired reason to vent and release,

energy in motion flowing like rivers run deep,

under skin, we grieve,

I watch on as lost bodies retreat,

back in to their seats,

unable to believe,

that we can always choose to break free and just do as we fucking please.

Faatima

 

The hall of mirrors

Image result for mirrors room

In the hall of mirrors,

you’ll find them playing rock, paper, scissors..

till each reflection is revealed,

true colours that were concealed,

splashed against glass by the sunshine

a trick of the light

they came tumbling down,

when the image had been found,

to be like nothing more than the sound,

of an instrument in a band,

playing a melody to direct the stories painted by words written by hand,

not the story in and of itself,

which bridged the gap between heaven and hell.

an artist’s way to ring a bell,

alerting the populous without the desire to sell,

Like metaphors they tell it well,

Faatima

 

Preservation

Instinct reigns in,

as moments keep passing,

the ships fly mile-high,

up in the sky,

reaching places,

these races,

a mass of faces,

there is no stasis,

in the zone,

with something to resist and something to condone,

as we roam,

objectives rendering us alone,

in the circus show

to and fro,

empty spaces between us hollow.

Swayed by the winds of change that blow,

so that preservation is futile, the seeds have already been sown,

and grown,

the first one to cast the stone,

will reap the fruits of the harvest that is to come,

the  orange and red season

we have all but anticipated,

with bated breath,

when wheat becomes bread,

we have already made our beds,

to lie in,

as the veils are thinning,

and the glasses are over brimming,

no turning back these miles,

have been walked and all the while,

the truth remains that preservation is futile,

Faatima

 

Discovery

Image result for stars

Some things are fated,

undebated,

the trick is,

not to think,

and before you have the chance to blink,

red softens into pink,

we make a link,

and take a drink,

from the fountain of what it means to exist,

what it means to not sink,

under the pressure,

of the waves that cover,

each and every endeavour,

because reason is stronger..

and there is still more to discover.

Faatima

All the way into the dark night

Image result for dark night of the soul

Do not turn back at half past midnight,

do not succumb to the horror and fright,

go all the way, follow this field of sight,

I can only describe,

it with these few adjectives but you’ll find,

justice is not served to something this divine,

what is realised is a shattering of these crimes,

the blind-side of getting by just fine,

the burn of getting to the earth’s core,

is melted away fast when we do reach the source,

there is no chance for you to sit on the floor,

wallowing in the fires that were brought forth,

nor is there time to climb the high horse,

to escape from the shores of a mind war-torn,

which stays firmly once it’s been born,

in the mythical pages of folklore,

till it is washed away in the pages of time,

scratching at the surface will not erase these fine-lines,

they draw patterns to ignite a beam of light,

a trail through the mist and murkiness of the dark night..

it will end soon,

but the only way out is through,

the dark night of the soul devoured us whole,

it was a brave step to follow,

at dawn we arose, with nothing but this poetry, this prose.

the world of a writer,

intuitively inspired,

by the ethers and something untapped,

creativity inspired by all the mishaps..

and that is why we must embrace the shadow,

so that growth is finally allowed,

in uninhabited places, once undiscovered now found.

Faatima

 

Nothing will last

As the water fell on to the rooftops,

dripped down and fed the crops,

the last cloud had been drained,

the sunshine had long waned

and they all took it upon themselves to complain,

boarded their trains, home-bound nothing here left to gain,

the crowds have been entertained,

this turn of events was like a stain,

on the canvas of this beautiful day,

which went away,

just as quickly as it came,

which took a turn for the worse,

was this a curse?

In the midst of this decay,

no one wants to stay,

no one wants to play.

No this time there is too much to pay,

and that is all I have to say.

Faatima