Category Archives: creativity

The heart centre

Image result for heart art

Memories swiped,

An amnesia that hides,

buried in the worlds within worlds,

but as the veils grew thin these realms unfurled,

fragments and shards spinning vortexes whirl,

as forgetfulness and slumber became impossible to maintain,

reality looks at us right in the face,

there was no place to run and no place to escape,

back to centre stage,

medium, a calm place,

knowing beyond knowing these verses became congruent,

lines in my mind’s eye which is observant and fluent,

well read in these arts,

but now integrate and start,

to do the real work all we ask is if you do dare to stare

into the abyss beneath these muddied layers,

handle with compassion and a slow and steady care,

tricky at first,

as illusions tumble and bubbles burst,

you’ll master it once you come out the hurt,

practice and patience,

surrendered without waiting,

aeons of tales weaved in the webs of times past,

blunders direct us to blind spots if we last,

and bloom from seedlings to flowers,

for they left us wide open in a place where souls get devoured,

projections and stories unseen and unheard,

yet felt all the same through the onslaught of words,

to those few that know,

empathic warrior souls,

we either take it on and dwindle to their whims

or the other choice is to light up and be still

returning us back, back to what is within.

Faatima

XX

 

 

 

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

No more colours

Just like an empty Sunday,

We wish away,

The barren moments taking form and shape,

Playing tricks in the light, painting a maze,

a blurry haze,

In between new ideas,

There lie dormant fears,

Colours seep,

From view and we are knee deep,

Wading through layers,

Finding our own way out,

So don’t tell me to smile,

Hold back or live in denial

Till I am ready, and have walked this mile.

Till every stain has been washed away,

and nothing remains.

Faatima

 

 

 

Wild Winters,

Image result for art winter

Sleeping away sickness,

as songs stream through wild winters,

Composed by all these singers,

leaving behind a trail of fingers,

atop the grand piano

white, orange, gold,

don’t believe everything that you’re told.

the stream flows both ways,

water murky and grey, like a painting of a rainy day,

and as ships pass through the shore,

just like that the calm is restored.

Faatima

 

Chaos theory

Image result for chaos theory

Endless, the loam and the abode,

In the realm where things erode,

Fall away, sometimes explode.

I am what I am,

So let bones be bones,

and ghosts, just that,

absurd to most,

feeding off a host,

oblivious, let’s make a toast,

continuum,

yet something still looms,

unplanned, no time to make room?

Growth, a thing imminent,

Either getting better or worse,

but don’t you forget the chaos that comes first,

Faatima

x

 

Inner child

Image result for dreams state

Hey little child,

Everything your little heart desired,

was meant to be yours,

tapping into subtle details and walking through doors,

the cold breeze we ignored,

trying to keep warm,

when the sky hit the floor,

and when they fled from their stores,

simply selling objects became a bore,

what for?

chaos made us crave more,

engaging without remorse,

as we board upon our horse,

heading north,

and without much force,

left it all behind,

but as the clock chimes,

it catches up the tide of time,

sure as light blends into the dark night,

eyes drag south, shutting, we are blind,

sleeping you’ll find,

never-mind,

I guess tomorrow the sun will shine,

Faatima

Rivers gushing beneath

One at a time,

the ripples melt into the stream illuminated by the sunshine,

the calm of the water looks like a goldmine,

colours and shades to watch as we sip fine wine,

the stasis not too different from the verses of a rhyme,

as the story unfolds line by line,

the story of the hill that we climb,

layers undressed,

as we reach the crest

so very steep,

though tempted as I was to peek,

I did not turn back to look at the river beneath,

the water is not shallow instead it is murky, deep,

…and gushing to the extreme,

quite unlike the setting of peace,

described so well, now my visual receptors have been released,

from that particular spiral, put it safely to sleep.

Faatima