growing up in shadows

growing up in shadows
never measuring up
binded
by your rules

competing with beauty
a wall flower
homely
never good enough

always on the outise
looking in
alone
soltitude my fort

lost in thoughts
walking on
andonded
to my fate

seeking comfort in shadows
reaching out
touching
longing warmth

I fall

Running away
Free
The wind
Tugging
Me on...

Embraced by
Swirling
Autumn leaves
Twirling
Above me...

The earth
Cushioning
My fall
Shoved
By fate...

Moi...

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Connected yet drifting apart...

These days there seems to be very little 'family' time. People living in the same house often need to 'schedule' some time to get together. Days go by and except for 'Good Morning' and 'Sweet Dreams', there's no time to say anything else. Meals are consumed alone or on the run.

Work, college, the Mosque, errands, chores... There's an endless list of requirements to keep you on your toes and off someone else's!

Sometimes, they only time one gets together is in the car. Sometimes I thank heaven for traffic! The time spent stuck in a traffic jam give me the opportunity to chill and catch up. Discuss. Re-connect.

My pet peeve is the mobile. Eventually, I'm sure, mobiles will follow us to our grave! Family time in the car gets set aside with mobile calls perusing one determinedly through the journey. Refusing to be set aside at each destination.

Somehow... the more 'connected' we are, the less 'connected' we seem.

I Meant To Do My Work Today

I dedicate this poem to myself. I've been tying to 'study' for an 'exam' but spent this last weekend in the rain! :) There's always something I need to...

I Meant To Do My Work Today
by Richard LeGallienne

I meant to do my work today,
But a brown bird sang in the apple tree,
And a butterfly flitted across the field,
And all the leaves were calling me.
And the wind went sighing over the land,
Tossing the grasses to and fro,
And a rainbow held out its shining hand,
So what could I do but laugh and go?

Smell the roses

I've been juggling too many balls my end. When that happens, you know you'll drop some balls soon. There's only so much of a load that you can carry.

*thud*

The first ball I dropped was... blogging!

*thud*

Food!
I eat on the run. :) But I've lost some weight, so that's not too bad!

*thud*

Then sleep.
Thank God for coffee!

Which brings me to my point...

Life is so beautiful when you take a moment to stop and smell the roses.

To sit still and observe...

The other day, I was overwhelmed by too much work. My inbox pile was increasing at an alarming rate, whereas my outbox remained empty. Plodding on with all that work, I heard a bird chirping outside my window. A cheeky looking black bird with a yellow beak.

I watched it for a while, hearing it's song. I'm sure it sang an ode to the joy of the world. It sat there for all of 10 minutes till I moved to grab my camera.

It flew away leaving me all the better for its presence.

Eid Mubarak

Eid Mubarak :)

كل عام وانتم بخير

Ramadhan Kareem!

The Story of My Life

This poem touched my soul. I'd like to share it.


The Story of My Life

i was ready to tell
the story of my life
but the ripple of tears
and the agony of my heart
wouldn't let me

i began to stutter
saying a word here and there
and all along i felt
as tender as a crystal
ready to be shattered

in this stormy sea
we call life
all the big ships
come apart
board by board

how can i survive
riding a lonely
little boat
with no oars
and no arms

my boat did finally break
by the waves
and i broke free
as i tied myself
to a single board

though the panic is gone
i am now offended
why should i be so helpless
rising with one wave
and falling with the next

i don't know
if i am
nonexistence
while i exist
but i know for sure
when i am
i am not
but
when i am
not then i am

now how can i be
a skeptic
about the
resurrection and
coming to life again

since in this world
i have many times
like my own imagination
died and
been born again

that is why
after a long agonizing life
as a hunter
i finally let go and got
hunted down and became free

Rumi.

Discuss...

I'm going to do something a little different this time. I've just read this passage in a book and think it has the making of an intresting discussion. I'll quote it then open the floor to all you peeps out there. :) Let's see where this discussion takes us!

I think I'd rather be regarded as a mere luxury and self-indulgence then regarded sternly as a First Duty. I'd rather a man felt that he was enjoying himself looking after me than that he should feel I was a duty to be attended to.

Death in the Clouds
Agatha Christie

No Time To Blog.

I haven't been able to blog for a while. Way too much happening my end.

First, my laptop crashed, so I've lost a year's worth of stuff, all replacable really except for photos. I could *cry*. Those photos can never be replaced. I know, I know... I should have made back ups, but it's too late now. :(

I've planned out so many blog enteries. One I aimed to dedicate to my feline friend. I saved some quotes, some comics, some poems, all gone with the wind now.

Then I managed to get a temporary job of sorts. So that's been keeping me busy. I need to get up with the birds as work here starts pretty early. However, night's end late... So I've been living on an average off 6 hours of sleep. I think I am getting old... *creak* Perhap's that's my weary bones creaking... I remember a time I could live on 6 hours of sleep. Now, too many such days or should I say nights leave me feeling sick the next day.

Now I'm done winging, :) I can start penning out some 'real' blog enteries for my many fans out there.

Watch this space!

TAG... I'm IT!

Farsh tagged me.
Who’s next? :s


* Alone, or with people?

Depends... there are times I love being in the midst of a crowd, family and friends spilling all over the place.

Other times I need solitude, some me time to re-energise myself for the hectic week ahead!


* Summer, or winter?

Neither... autumn's my season.

Autumn brings with it the richness and maturity of life.

The trees gently shedding their leaves, stripped bear for the world to see.
Leaves twirling in the wind, dancing to a rhythm unheard by us mere mortals.
We tread on a carpet of many hues embossed across our path; red, yellow, brown, orange, green.

Autumn brings with it fun and frolic.

Leaping into a puddle of leaves, sending them sprinkling into the air.
Hands seeking warmth, clutching sizzling, roasted chestnuts.
Curled up cosily with hot chocolate, hearing the wind roar outside.

The hues of autumn adding colour to our lives.


* Black, or white?

This should be obvious seeing as autumn's my favourite season… Red / Maroon. I can't have too many things in these shades!


* Observe, or get along from the very first moment?

I'm cautious by nature. I wait and watch... and trust my intuition.


* Clown, or Drama (Queen/King)?

Both! I can have everyone in stitches. I can also throw a real right royal tantrum when I choose! :D


* A Hummer, or A BMW convertible car?

Horse and Carriage. I like to travel in style! ;)


* Loyal or………

I'm loyal and expect others to be too. Can't stand hypocrites. I'd rather know upfront what to expect then have someone say one thing but mean another.


* Favourite Material Possession....

Everything! Yet material possessions are replaceable and so above all, I treasure my family and cat.


* When I look at someone, the first thing I see is....

Nothing! I’ve been told I have my head in the clouds and don’t notice things. I do try and get a 'feel' of the person. Later, as I get to know them better, I take in their looks.


* My Life Is...

This quote from While You Were Sleeping sums up my life...

"Dad always said, 'Sometimes life doesn't turn out the way you plan it.' I just wish I'd realized at the time he was talking about MY life."

Intresting Strip...

The Match Making Game...

I seem to have not one, not two but three people who now want to play match makers... I'm not sure to :) or to :(. I have a feeling the number's growing...

I suppose I don't mind them match making as much as I object to the people they match make me with. I reckon it's easier all around if they ask what I'm looking for. Then have a go at the game.

I've had some weird people come knocking at my door.

One was a person on a very short visit here; all of 2 weeks. Not only was he job hunting, but it seems, bride hunting At what point do I find out he's interested? A day before he's due to leave the country. Which meant additional pressure... meet him before he leaves so you can decide. He really needs to know now.

Um.. hello! It doesn't quiet work that way. I'm supposed to be choosing a spouse not shopping for potatoes. I can't decide in one meeting that yes, he's the one! These things take time.

Apparently not.. it's just me being difficult...

There's other stuff that's important to me. I seem to meet people who don't share my beliefs. Nice as they may be, we appear poles apart.

I seem to have met a whole lot of Misters...

Mr. Irreligious-don’t know what Islam-is-and-don’t-care-either...

Mr. I’m-threatened-by-your-feminist-educated-views…

Mr. Bow-to-my-superior-views-cause-I’m-a-man…

Mr. I-can’t-support-you-and-our-kids-you-need-to-work…

Mr. I’m-so-shy-I’m-blushing-far-more-than-you-possibly-can…

A whole lot of other misters too…


Which brings me to the question...
How does one know who the right person is?

It’s said marriages are made in heaven but celebrated on earth. Why then do our future spouse(s) not carry an ID?

Shame there's no *drum roll* and in walks… Mr. Right. You see him and the orchestra start playing your song. Better still, he has a sign around his neck saying he belongs to you. It would be so much easier to be sure.


All that happens is that you have the one, two, three or four meetings. Meetings arranged in a controlled environment. Meetings where you learn very little but what the person chooses to reveal. Meetings where everyone seem to be on their best behaviour…

Then you're asked to decide. To make only the biggest decision of your whole life...

Walk along the seashore...

Walking along the beach, I notice the moon playing hide and seek with the clouds, watched benevolently by the twinkling stars.

I see some stars twinkling brightly, flirting with the wind and clouds. Other stars content to stay in the background, shyly hiding their beauty, veiled by distance, made all the more beautiful in their obscurity.

Fuelled by the anger of the wind, I hear the sea roar and feel the waves lash out, icy droplets spraying against me.

I feel alive, my once dead heart rejuvenated by this walk along the seashore…

Hot Chocolate and Sandwiches

At college, as part of my Graphic Design course, we were presented with some words. Thinking out of the box, we had to research visuals to best represent those words.

Let's take the word, say... cancer.

Cancer.

What do you think of?

Zodiac sign?

Astrological truth or rubbish?

A personality trait?

An illness that attacks other people?

A lingering and painful illness?

Loss of hair?

Chemotherapy?

To me, the word cancer conjures up images of hot chocolate and cold sandwiches. Sneaking into the staff cafeteria to grab some food, knowing which hospital serves the best hot chocolate and which the tastiest sandwiches.

Of Iftars broken at the hospital and lonely Eids spent celebrating alone at the Oncologist ward. Staring sightlessly outside the window, watching, waiting… Looking up, hearing footsteps go past… wondering how long Eid celebrations last... one day, two days, three days... yet no visitors…

Of facing up to the horrors of chemotherapy; loss of appetite and loss of hair. Late night emergency visits to the hospital… emergency blood transfusions… Never the loss of will to live or the strength to fight.

Of despair and grief and whispered prayers, rosary beads clutched to for support and comfort.

Of tears... lots of tears. But above all, of shared smiles and laughter.

Laughter through the tears.

A long & weary battle...

Chemotherapy can be terrible. It's sometimes said that if the cancer doesn't kill you, the chemo may.

Each person reacts to chemo in a different way.

Some bear up well showing little sign of the assault.

Others suffer agonisingly. Each drop of the chemo drug entering the vein acting as soldiers fighting each cancer cell within the body.

It can be a long and weary battle not only for the patient but the care givers too.

A battle where there is no respite, no cease fire. Where each dawn brings with it a new declaration of war. Where each sunset does not bring with it a guarantee of arms laid down for the night.

A battle fought... to death.

The battle begins...

If someone asks me what it is like to live under the shadow of cancer, I'm not sure I'd be able to answer.

There are so many different hues and shades in the palette known as cancer.

The first time someone you love is diagnosed as suffering from cancer can be a terrible experience. There's disbelief. Your pretty sure the Doctors have messed up the results and are incompetent. You demand second opinions and further investigations. You are in denial.

But then comes acceptance. Accepting the fact that yes, maybe the Doctor is right, and maybe he knows what he's talking about. Maybe.

You start to Google and to read up everything you can get your hands on. Information is power. Even though the Doctor managed to get his diagnosis right, you need to verify every action he takes.

With acceptance comes a declaration of war... The battle has begun...

Eccentric me

To a certain extent, I identify with this poem. Sometimes, I think, this is what I'll end up like; eccentric.

When I am an old woman, I shall wear purple
with a red hat that doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
and satin candles, and say we've no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I am tired
and gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
and run my stick along the public railings
and make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
and pick the flowers in other people's gardens
and learn to spit.

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
and eat three pounds of sausages at a go
or only bread and pickles for a week
and hoard pens and pencils and beer nuts and things in boxes.

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
and pay our rent and not swear in the street
and set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.
But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.

Warning - When I Am an Old Woman I Shall Wear Purple
By Jenny Joseph

My favourite poem...

If thou must love me, let it be for nought
Except for love's sake only. Do not say
I love her for her smile--her look--her way
Of speaking gently,--for a trick of thought
That falls in well with mine, and certes
brought
A sense of ease on such a day--
For these things in themselves, Belovèd, may
Be changed, or change for thee,--and love, so
wrought,
May be unwrought so. Neither love me for
Thine own dear pity's wiping my cheek dry,--
A creature might forget to weep, who
bore
Thy comfort long, and lose thy love thereby!
But love me for love's sake, that evermore
Thou may'st love on, through love's
eternity.

Sonnets from the Portuguese
Elizabeth Barret Browning

http://www.webterrace.com/browning/sonnet1.htm#xvi

The beauty of the rose...

For most of us, the beauty of the rose lies in it's perfection.
In it's submission.

No thorns to mar it's beauty with droplets of our blood. A dewy, blood red, blooming rose.

A rose that lives.

Little do we realise that the beauty of the rose lies in it's thorn.
The thorn that adds character to the rose.
The thorn that guards the rose from all but the most persistent of lovers.
Testing each lover with it's many jabs, drawing forth blood and pain.
Chasing all but the most determined away.

The rose gives true beauty when it submits.
When it gives up it's thorn and blooms for the lover that sought it.
When it envelopes its lover with it's fragrant scent, a blushing blooming beauty.

There's beauty in a withered rose.

For a rose that submits embraces death, dying a little each day, petal by petal.
Loosing its scent, unable to envelope it's lover in fragrance.
Sacrificing its life and beauty to the hand that plucked it.

Are we getting immune?

Today's papers are filled with images of children... little children. Some asleep, other’s awake, eyes wide open.

Asleep in eternal peace.

Awake to the horrors of war, displaying bloody wounds, a sign of carnage for all to see.

Dead children.

It's interesting to note how each of us reacts to those image.

Some see the papers.

See the poor, mutilated dead children.

Carry on with our meals and our lives.

Some of us loose our appetite, shed a tear. Each mouthful we eat reminding us of a family mourning the loss of an innocent child.

Nursery Rhyme Modernised

Found this in a mag. It's quiet amusing, an update if you like, of an old fashioned nursery rhyme.

Little Bo-Peep has sold her sheep
By putting them up on e-Bay
She surfed the Net
Found Easy-Jet
And flies to Spain next Friday.

Little Bo - Peep
in the 21st Century
(Judy Sleeman)

Cute :)

Blog vs. Conversation

Reminds me of something I heard on the BBC...

This wife comes home and sees her husband on the internet.

She speaks to him, but he’s like "um", "uhuh", "ah". So he's acknowledging her, but not really listening.

Exasperated, she insists he converse with her.

He insists she read his blog. After all, it saves time on face to face conversation, proves his ability to be amusing, to glorify trivial happenings, builds up his hits and proves his popularity.

She refuses.

He promptly enters in a new topic based on his wife.

She’s annoyed and decides to podast her spat with her husband.

He agrees to talk to her.

They look at each other… and mutually agree to continue working on their laptops.

Forgetful Me...

Yesterday was awful...

I left home in a rush and went to meet some of my cousins. Had a blast. Made some plans. Laughed a lot. Almost shared a few tears!

Then... at 1 AM, I discover, I'd left my keys at home. Luckily, I managed to get a spare set off someone at 3 AM, after waking a couple of people in the process.

I couldn't sleep... too much on my mind. So at 5 AM I'm sitting writing crap poetry. Still need to work on it. I'll paste it here though.

~~~*

Tired and worn out,
entered my house.

Dying for a cuppa,
some tea to unwind.

Relaxed and rejuvenated,
I look about.

Amazed to discover,
the signs of stress.

Keys in the fridge,
my used mug in the bin.

The cat on my bed,
me on her mat.

Treading on my Dreams.

Discovered, ah... rediscovered Yeats...

I would spread the cloths under your feet
But I, being poor, have only my dreams
I have spread my dreams under your feet
Tread softly because you tread on mydreams.

He wishes for the Cloth ofHeaven
W.B.Yeats

Walking in Shadows

I walk in shadows
lonelyness my compnion
solitude my friend
I seek refuge in company
only to find my selfalone once again.
I reach out a hand
and watch people
obliviousley walk past
lost in happy thoughts.

Testing! :)