Tag Archives: poem

Thrown away the key

Image result for fantasy art

On the edge of atrophy,

rampant revolution with the sea breeze,

brewing in the air,

the mist, beware.

We no longer have a care,

for the now frozen lakes far off in another galaxy,

the little people are free

weeds surround the beautiful sweet flowers that breathe,

life into the ether as between the lines we read,

grow, uproot, resist, feed,

through perpetual death and rebirth on the shores of grand rising we bleed,

transformative, awakening from the haze,

fires blaze,

as seasons change

earthy, watery an elemental stage,

passage through the malaise,

wounds cut open and the memories fade,

escape,

it’s too late and we can no longer wait,

sitting ducks and enslaved,

You may have thrown away the key,

but this you did not foresee.

Faatima

x

 

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

 

 

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

 

 

 

Calm

Image result for calm art

Straight from the belly of the beast,

the flames were unleashed,

the tidal waves were released,

to quench the thirst and quell the flames, they died down with ease,

as we release resistance to this disease,

so do as you please,

but in the process, I digress,

that some things we do not forget,

through our attempt let the day turn on it’s head,

staring into the darkness of this abyss,

with clenched fists,

a dare,

this game is certainly not one where they play fair,

architects of challenging us all,

with zero sign of a soul,

beyond and through the dark hole,

myopic, unexposed,

when from the horizon somewhere,

the winds of change arrive swirling in rhythm with our dancing hair

flying around, moving to the melody of what remains in the mist, a place unaware,

everything takes shape,

in this dreamscape,

everything that we cannot escape,

Faatima