There was a Woman



    There was a woman who wrote all night
    We wonder why she wrote all night
    Perhaps she wanted to do what she felt was right...

    There was a woman who wrote all night
    We wonder why she wrote all night
    She wrote all night to capture thoughts
    We wonder why she captured thoughts
    Perhaps to remind those who forgot
    Perhaps to stop the rot...

    There was a woman who wrote all night
    We wonder why she wrote all night
    She wrote all night to capture thoughts
    She captured thoughts to shape her actions
    Perhaps she wanted to share the notion
    Of all that was good and beautiful and ancient

    There was a woman who wrote all night
    We wonder why she wrote all night
    She wrote all night to capture thoughts
    She captured thoughts to shape her actions
    She wanted to share the notion
    Of all that was good and beautiful and ancient
    Perhaps she truly believed
    In the wisdom of the old manuscripts
    Lie buried under fathomless seas
    Unless we seek to unravel mysteries
    Legends long past hold the key
    To our coded history

    It was never mere fiction
    Fuelled by imagination

    Copyright 2015 ©  ninotaziz
    All Rights Reserved

    The Hikayat belongs to all of us
    To love. To share. And to cherish.

                                                          Season of Reflection






                                                          haiku

                                                          a thousand days
                                                          without face or reflection
                                                          sense of self diminished


                                                          II 

                                                          haibun

                                                          We walk the hours that make up our lives. Talk to the minutes - the hand, the dial, the markers of time. Capture the seconds, stored for days, labeled eternity.

                                                          Time, past summer
                                                          is measured in the flight
                                                          of the butterfly, so free

                                                          We take the path that leads us home. Talk to the trees - the leaves, the flowers, the gifts of the seasons. Capture the fruits, ripened and sweet, labeled health.

                                                          seasons, past chapters
                                                          measured by flight of stairs, 
                                                          increasingly painful

                                                          We face the reflection that shows us truth. Talk to the man in the mirror - the eyes, the lies, the carefully painted image. Capture the truth, staring back accusingly, labeled proper.



                                                          III 

                                                          quote

                                                          to live is to be thrust into the sunlight, crying - 
                                                          and to leave in the glow of moonlight, sleeping.


                                                          Copyright © 2015 ninotaziz

                                                          ______________________________________








                                                          Dune dreamers

                                                          Painting by Daria Petrilli



                                                          if only you could see
                                                          the world I fear hidden
                                                          we would sail away down 

                                                          the duncan idaho

                                                          march with fish speakers
                                                          who keep peace for 
                                                          love of humanity

                                                          Leto II


                                                          __________________


                                                          It's World Book Day soon and so, this month I pay tribute to my favorite dreamers and thinkers.










                                                          Carved in repose


                                                          He : 
                                                          I will stay by your side

                                                          She : 
                                                          Until ?

                                                          He : 
                                                          Until the world forgets
                                                          the trees and forest
                                                          the stars forget to shine
                                                          the wind forgets to sigh

                                                          She :
                                                          What kind of world would that be?

                                                          He :
                                                          Ours.

                                                          She :
                                                          Not mine. 
                                                          I need beauty to exist.


                                                          _____________________












                                                          THE MANY ROADS


                                                          Dedicated to my daughter, Inas, who just turned twenty


                                                          the many roads that you choose to take
                                                          will lead you to the unknown
                                                          and what such excitement awaits
                                                          discovering little treasures of your own

                                                          do not stop to talk to strangers
                                                          yet do remember to make new friends
                                                          do not pick the wild red roses
                                                          but linger over delicate white's scent

                                                          dreams pass us by like clouds that drift
                                                          while you build your treehouse on sturdiest boughs
                                                          and in this way, your life will be lived
                                                          hopes and hard work and love... for now

                                                          hopes and hard work and love... for now


                                                          _____________________________



                                                          For magpietales


                                                          Ever since Inas was ten, she decided she wanted to become an architect to 'build a treehouse hotel'. She is in second year university doing architecture and I miss her.








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