Season of Reflection


a thousand days
without face or reflection
sense of self diminished



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.



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 :

She :
Not mine. 
I need beauty to exist.



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.


© 2014 ninotaziz


to understand the world and the how the wind lifts us up high, 
simply remove the elements and then -  perceive a moment
a day, a month, a year

still endless summer
no breeze to sooth tired limbs
out on empty fields


to grasp the importance of the wind at sea, climbing mountains
laden with rain to nourish the earth - perceive a time
a decade, a century, a millennia

no ships to sail across
the wide open seas
no more oceans to conquer


crystal like droplets 
remain heavily floating upon
raging waves

never to miraculously ride the wind to the highlands,
or turn to dew upon the grass in the morning sun


to imagine legends long forgotten, the absent wind
fails to carry tales around the world - perceive that tradition
a story told at bedtime

who would take 
the princess seeking her love
to the West of the Moon -


don quixote would no longer have -
his imaginary foes


when the sun climbs the sky
to play with clouds
flying horses ride no more

flying horses ride no more


to grasp the importance of the wind, snaking through the forest
no longer rustling in between trees - perceive eternity denied

birds grounded
with nest on forest floors
easy prey to all


our world without the caressing breeze, is not our world at all -

Copyright © 2015 ninotaziz


for dversepoets

I imagine this is better as four poems. It seems a tad too clumsy being strung together like this. But the idea behind this poem was to show how the wind influenced so many aspects of our lives.
Our psyche. Our history. Our traditions.


I have made some changes. I hope it reads better.

Remember to play kites this weekend, everyone!

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