Tag Archives: creative

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

 

 

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Shade

Image result for oroborous

Lost somewhere in translation,

crowds absorb any meaning and kill patience,

worse than most,

a subjective stance brought on by the host,

a predatory conscience,

talking nothing but nonsense,

till lines are drawn,

between each and every source,

till it no longer matters,

the mind’s chit-chatter,

observed through a lense unaffected by shame,

although in this game they have infiltrated our mind-frame,

the key will open this door,

and the snake eats its tail no more,

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

 

Slipping by

The majority of the time it’s the case of a means to an end,

Yet seconds slip through our fingers not unlike quicksand,

it seems in this paradoxical trend,

that abounds as we turn every bend,

in this maze with a conflict of interests,

at the core, making timing irrelevant,

the moment is always present,

so make time to cultivate these skills,

time being a construct we decide how to fill

or else someone else will,

and that is the only promise,

in a place where they are meaningless and un profound,

where words create circles for us to go round and round,

without taking the steps,

needed to progress.

Faatima

 

 

Let it be known

Innovation

Let it be known,

that words alone,

cannot get down to the bone,

of how it feels when stones are thrown,

or the stories of the places we chose to roam,

or even of that which we call home,

expression being our way to play fair,

each word written with precision and care,

a need to share,

the things that we cannot always blare,

out loud in plain terms,

quick and witty words,

are on paper so forward,

to make sense of and discern,

well that paper can burn,

from the fire of our creative desire,

maybe not a tale of pure laughter,

or the story of a happily ever after

but at least the closing of a chapter,

Faatima

 

 

 

Wait for it

Image result for Spiritual Path

In a small a matter of time,

this clock will chime,

the hour that spun it’s web has now woven into a tale of days

taken and stolen,

the sun is now setting golden,

a moon takes over the horizon,

don’t act surprised,

that she no longer wants to hide,

because when push comes to shove,

this inevitability is a must,

the iron has begun to rust,

tick-tock on the clock,

didn’t want to rock the boat but the doors are locked,

living like livestock

an age has taken it’s place, and we slowly conceptualise of this maze,

till we eventually erase, what does not need to stay and the simple black and white blindness now softens into varying shades of dark blue and grey.

To make a little bit of sense

of the images untainted by this lense,

a perceptive trend,

…keeping us in this loop that just wont end.

Faatima

 

A world in crisis

Image result for light

These smoky grey skies ridden with dust and disease,

overshadow a land where people cry and their pleas,

go unheard by the selfish, self-serving societies,

it seems they have created a crisis,

plotting and deceiving, twisting and turning, a kind of mockery,

served up like sweet pie, from those that make a joke out of lives,

amidst the uncertainty, upheaval, up in the air, we silently grieve,

the loss of sanity, the safe bubble, brewing storms ignored,

shattered illusions, the reality comes forth.

their intentions are a haze, our hearts and minds race, on fire, in a blaze.

Through the image of separation, division, instilled to create a mind game,

manipulation of our emotional state,

in order to dissipate,

our innate strength, breed fear, build strong convictions are you left or right? black or white?…

wrong or right?

unshakable so that we are guarded on defence, letting no one near,

refusing to hear,

anything other,

than what we led to believe,

the lies that they feed,

The new earth is being born,

whether we are aware of it or not, these leaves have turned,

nothing will be the same,

and I cannot promise that we will be safe,

in the moments to come,

just hold on,

we cannot lose,

if we choose to remember the truth,

over what they portray on the news,

refuse, to settle and accept this excuse,

of a world view,

Faatima

xx