Miami Beach, Queensland
A drop may travel slowly from end to the next. Still. It will never be a stranger to the ocean.
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Tag: poem
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a lover knows no distance
Posted at 11:00 am , on April 6, 2020
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Bull & Fish
Posted at 1:54 pm , on April 2, 2020
♓️ ♉️
Once upon a time, there was an olive coloured fish who fell in love with an olive coloured bull. Bull loved him too, but she wasn’t ready to take the plunge.
For one, she lived in a small, sunny grassland; far, far away from his waters.
And for two, Bull not that long ago had dived head-first in a shallow pond and hurt herself.
Despite the distance, and a heart 💔 healing, they created happy bubbles for each other. Fish promised Bull that as a caterpillar turns into a beautiful butterfly, her heart would soon flutter free too 🦋🎈
Bull was a dancer. She moved with the grace of a
shooting starShe also sang. Her voice tasted like caramel cake. She was the envy of every bird.
Fish was still at school. He learned about stories. He read poems he’d read to Bull. He wrote love letters so overt Bull was convinced Fish had never come across the word SUBTLE.
Fish and Bull shared everything together. They shared everything that was exciting in their day and everything that wasn’t exciting in their day. This was always exciting.
Fish found himself swimming in a lake of happiness each time he made Bull laugh. He found himself swimming a lot.
Bull occasionally pawed the ground. Fish could get annoying sometimes. Like, he’d repeat the same thing. Over and over. Literally, the same thing. He’d repeat jokes. Over and over. Fish would repeat himself so much that—•
But she also loved to tease him. Especially when she felt he was out of water. This would usually happen when they talked about feelings…
They didn’t live together but it didn’t make their story less real. They didn’t just love each other because of all their happy qualities; they loved each other in spite of all their unhappy qualities.
They found joy in each other’s arms. The End.
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The day God took my photo
Posted at 3:20 pm , on April 1, 2020
Mashhad 5/1/2013
Last night I was changing the bedsheets when that day sprinkled over my mind like snow caps a mountain. Beautiful. Brutal.
This always happens when I’m making the bed. I’m banished to that day at that hotel we stayed in Iran, when time stood still or it slowed down or it vanished or as the calendar tells me, it went on as normal… Seems like a galaxy ago now. Seems like yesterday. It was snowing in Mashhad. You took a photo of me outside the hotel and laughed because I was wearing gloves, remember? Back in the hotel room, it seemed like the bedsheets had conspired with the world outside, for they were also criminally cold and snow-white. Do you remember feeling them, dad? When the paramedic gently pulled them over your face…
Come visit. Please. We’ll take photos again. This time, you can don the gloves.
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destiny of a tree
Posted at 8:42 pm , on March 24, 2020
autumn trees, Victoria
“oh bewitching nightingale, i’m ready to commit!” the grounded oak tree confessed
but the free bird took flight chirping “i need time to ponder with whom i shall lay nest”
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a sprinkle of stars
Posted at 10:11 pm , on March 23, 2020
He had curly hair and curled words to make strangers laugh and sometimes the strangers felt good and sometimes they didn’t but he never gave up and even though he had the recipe to happiness he wasn’t the best chef then one day the universe sprinkled a winking star over his sometimes rock-strong sometimes rock-tender heart and it took him one gaze to know
She was a queen. He learned she was formed on a planet called earth and her magnetic eyes had the power to hypnotise the moon and brew tides and it took him one gaze to discover that tidal waves shift the heaviest of anchors and that night before the sun clocked in for a new shift he was tamed under the lullaby of her splendid spell
And her eyes. They were like a star’s song and her smile was like a star’s dance and in one gaze his heart surrendered its pilot and he fell short of words and short of breath and he just fell
The moment the two of them locked souls was as beautiful as a natural disaster. His heart and her heart sang a beat so dulcet that volcanos erupted and lava cascaded over rocks and the rocks melted and his heart which was sometimes like a rock thawed
The queen. She liked that he had curly hair and curled words to make her laugh and sometimes she felt good and sometimes she didn’t and she also liked that he never gave up trying to make aliens laugh too and with that one gaze before the sun clocked in for a new shift it dawned on her that even though she had different ingredients her recipe to happiness was the same as his
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twenty-one questions part one
Posted at 12:35 pm , on March 22, 2020
gorgeous green grass, Victoria
When grey skies suffocate earth’s feelings, has the sky really turned grey?
What does the grass feel when its soft and prickly fur succumbs to a mower’s sharp teeth?
Where do ideas come from?
Did dinosaurs see their extinction coming?
Does God care if I vote?
Do you see evil saying hello in the mirror?
Who is the real enemy?
Can friends become lovers or do lovers become friends?
Shall I break a promise to keep a secret or shall I keep a secret and break a promise?
Will we finally see peace upon colonising Mars?
Is it important to highlight a stranger’s flaws?
Are fish aware they’re in a school?
Am I the only soul who thinks this way?
How does one survive the gnawing sound of loneliness?
If time was an animal, which would it be?
Has it really been that long since we last kissed?
Have you heard the joke about the Muslim walking into a bar?
Had God allowed Adam and Eve to eat the apple, would Apple exist?
Could I lose everything – every thing – and still find beauty in a sparrow’s chirrup?
Should a beast ever consider plastic surgery?
Would you hold the door open for a convicted murderer?
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Love in the time of Corona
Posted at 10:30 am , on March 20, 2020
Uncertainty rained
She was cold
Fear reigned
She remained guarded
He didn’t want to pull her tight
He didn’t wish to push her away
He yearned instead to caress her Beautiful soft face as gentle as a golden dream and behold her soft being float🎈
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happy world refugee day, princess
Posted at 5:45 pm , on June 21, 2017
Original Artwork by Mariam Sawires
If I were a kitten
the world would be smitten
but I am a seven year old war-bitten
little honey-eyed girlLocked up in detention.
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Mr. Rashedy, 1994
Posted at 12:33 am , on June 5, 2017
Original Artwork by Mariam Sawires
Such is tyranny, hard and cruel
Morphing gifted men into foolsWhen the splendid past haunts their dreams,
They smile, douse themselves and set alight the fuel. -
to live and give birth and make love
Posted at 1:09 pm , on May 21, 2017
Original Artwork by MARIAM SAWIRES
I turn, bidding to see life, and whenever I do
I see pain and poverty, hurt and hunger, labour and liquidationBut instead, I adore but these, infinite sensations
I like to descry a wildflower, gentle
I have never seen a flower give birth
But I have seen mothers separated from their offspringIn Spring
I like to touch the lilies and feel their coarse and supple silk
I have never seen a flower make love
But I have seen lovers hung from ropes, forgottenIn Autumn
I like to taste the rainwater left on the bracts overnight
I have never seen a flower so thirsty, it begs to die
But I have seen children ripped by a sniper’s tender bullet and sinterIn Winter
I like to listen to the soft wedding bell melodies created by the petals as they marry the grass
I have never seen snow bury a flower in cold blood
But I have seen powder detonate and deliberately rob the soul of a loverFrom next Summer:
I will turn and accept life is full of these unfair stories.
I wish it weren’t like this.
But I’ve learnt these injustices harden my flower.
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Good Muslim Boy published by Hardie Grant; book cover design by Mark Campbell; weaving by Cathy Tipping
