Poetry

Land of the liberated

Her lips are frayed, her voice is numb. Her heart is heavy, her eyes are wrung. She’s marched and sang. Pounded the streets that were once chambers of freedom. But the man at the podium doesn’t hear her pleas to stop. The man in the big, old, white house. Slowly the dream named after her, starts to crack. People worldwide watch the show – some clap. Her spirit still rings out, as she claims that she’ll never stop. Always believing in the greater good, she keeps marching on. Red, blue and white are her stripes. A blend of vibrant colors, all unified. History has witnessed her stand taller then all. But will she now stumble, crumble and fall? 

Maalika Kazia

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Poetry

Yours

If you are the artist,

let me be your canvas

Paint me in gold at dusk

Sweep across my cheeks,

the brush of your hand

Draw me in the image of your fantasy

If you are my painter,

make me your masterpiece

Color me in hues of pearl

Allow me to shimmer on the mantle of your heart

If you are my potter,

mould my skin to your will

Touch the clay of my flesh,

and bend it to your taste

Refine it with your breath

And let me be alive in your hands

_____________

Featured Image:- http://www.afremov.com

Poetry

Marked

Sitting in the coffee shop with large, orb like eyes. She see’s everything. The colors shift and their shapes change. But nothing is hidden. How foolish human kind can be, so easily enslaved by their emotions.

Narenia’s eyes do not require the sweeping look she gives the shop to spot him. He is bright as the sun. The pure gold aura which is coveted beyond all becomes him. Even the humans can sense something special in their midst. Many turn as he walks in, and Narenia can see their vibrations alter as he passes by.

“Which one is she?” mutters Santos. Of all the dull tasks his grandfather could have given him on a Saturday afternoon, this had got to be the worst. He could be at the beach right now, surfing or chatting up the blonde life guard. Carrying the bag of tools he had to deliver, Santos squinted around the coffee shop looking for an unfamiliar face. She was not from around here after all. He spotted Milena and waved, hoping he looked cool while doing it.

Oh, that could be her! The woman with gigantic eyes and gleaming red hair. His grandfather had failed to mention that she was young. And pretty.

“Hi there! I – I think you must be Narenia?” he called while approaching her table in the corner of the room.

Why was she looking at him in such a peculiar manner, though Santos. It was as if she was assessing him.

“Why yes I am. You must be Santos? Your grandfather told me I’d meet you here.”

“Yup, that’s me. Here is your delivery – if you do need a hand using those tools, I can help. Grandpa taught me a few tricks,” he said proudly puffing out his chest. The sun bounced off his golden curls.

Well, he was charming, mused Narenia. Perhaps it would be easier to talk to him under normal pretense. After all, she had no idea how to use these tools, let alone fix her car. Here was her mechanic of choice.

“Sure thing. Why don’t you pass by the place I’m crashing at this evening. Say, 7:30?”

“Where are you staying?”

“Over at Mrs. Jonas’s.”

“Great! 7:30 it is. And get ready, I’m an excellent teacher,” said Santos with a wink.

“Oh I’m sure I can teach a few things myself. Goodbye Santos.”

Santos watched her walk to the door, red hair swaying in her wake. Men from each side of the coffee shop turned too. Some looked disappointed indeed. The young man with the golden curls however, looked hopeful.

Look Book

Slayage 

I made another friend at the Museum ! On that note, I am very strongly anti poaching. These animals which are the true gems of Africa (and the world) must be protected. Otherwise, we will be left with nothing but metal figurines, while their essence is squandered for money.

Remember – The Earth is home to all creatures. Humans have no real right to claim 100% of the resources available. Especially not those which innocent animals are born with for their survival.

One love, always…

_____________

Photographer: Sabrina Said (www.itssabrina.com)

My Take

Thoughts on: Brida by Paulo Coelho 

There’s something to be said about starting to read a novel while travelling. It’s as if you are literally on a journey, that your eyes are but reading off a page. Of course, every book is a journey in itself that a reader takes.

Brida,  the main character in this novel is on a journey too. She seeks to learn magic. Now, I don’t mean the bunny from a hat kind of trickery. It’s the  magic of the world. Her search first leads her into the forests of Dublin to seek out a Magus who coincidentally is her soul mate. She does not realise this until much later in the book.

Her second magic related encounter is with Wicca, a witch. She takes it upon herself to be young Bridas teacher. Her prescribed practices subconsciously awaken Brida to the Gift she possesses.

Finally, we witness Bridas initiation into witchdom. This is after trips into her past lives, tarot card revelations, experiencing undiluted physical love and much more. We also see how true love sets the Magus free because his soul mate encounters yet another piece of her soul in another man.

From teachings of the sun and moon, to euphoric trances around bonfires – the book incorporates many practices associated with ancient magic. Coelho’s style certainly includes journeys between planes, occurring within an individual. Rich in visual imagery and mystique, this is a perfect short read.

My take away from the novel includes three teachings. Firstly, that the universe exists and so do we. There is simply no why to the equation. Secondly, life must be entirely immersed in, with each moment becoming our focus. And lastly, love has many forms. It is the greatest teacher.

Share your thoughts below, i’d love to read them!

Writing from Daresalaam, Tanzania 😊