For Mr Paul Brookes ~Wombwell Rainbows~ National Insect Week , 21 – 27 June 2021 ~ The Prettiest Butterfly ~ A Letter to Nano ~

Grand children are nature’s greatest blessing and I am profoundly blessed Alhamdolilah.

When my illness and a major surgery became a matter of grave concern for the family,this love filled letter and art work made me cry.Tears kept flowing for long.
I realized how love flows from the tender hearts, instils new life with warmth comfort and peace, curing all pain and suffering.

The sweetest letter from my grand daughter Sana Fatima Mir (my younger daughter Mahwish D Haider’s daughter)

In Collaboration With Mr Paul Brookes Wombwell Rainbows ~ Artists ~ Writers ~ NAPOWRIMO 2021 ~ Day Ten ~

In Response to Art Work by Jane Cromwell

Faith never shattered
virus took away master,
in grief will ever be

In Response to Art Work by John Law.

I thought,
I heard,
a tap,

on the window
as if
a branch
had awoken
from a nap,
shaken by one
unseen.


it was quiet
cold and dark,


and I heard again
Its Ok,
You are not alone
dont lose the spark,

In Response to Art Work by Kerfe Roig

Blues surround as blackness shifts, is it
going to lift or grow less? am I awake ?
or sinking, or rising, ascending into
more darkness,darkness before being
and darkness after?

I am not aware…
my being is being created, in fluids unseen
I have no voice, nor breath, it is not Death.
I float and swim, it is dark.

put on some Light’ O Light’,
Light Up The Light’

Who do I call? who will hear?
Who will come near? who will bear
the pain and make me well again?


It is The Light, The Truth, The Unseen One
that is Character, No Myth or Matter
Look up , it is day, it is full of Light
Look up, it is night, it is bejeweled with Light
Light Upon Light ‘ and The Book is Bright

NAPOWRIMO 2021 ~ DAY TWO ~ The Most Important Choice,Someone Else…

Write a poem about your own road not taken – about a choice of yours that has “made all the difference,”

sdr
A war dominion for birth another country for life
to be a girl and by almost everyone, be called a boy,
to wear a finger ring or play the harmonica
to have books to read than to play with a toy,
to hold a stethoscope or to wave the paint brush,
to focus a fine camera or to observe by a telescope,

Above all these, I chose a pencil not just plain, but
pencils of all colors and all shades,no preference,
I can write ,draw, sketch, scribble note and hence
That has made in my life, all the difference.

FOR ~Poets United: Midweek Motif ~ A Million Years Howl When Voices Whisper Among The Trees ~

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Evening shadows fell all over the lane
soon one could not discern the window pane
this one tree out of three we planted -gave
relief to heated pain, saved all from rain

but that evening it was pitch dark, the car
was parked in the shade, but wait -a sound
strange could be heard, the flurry rapid
flight of birds,small dark swooping round

left to right and right to left, flying in and
falling flat,disappearing from darkly sight
could hardly see them in the dim light-
not at full glare,wanted the birds to fly away scared.

But no,they kept coming and hovering around the car
preventing anyone from opening the door-what next
as fear increased -who had sent these bat-birds here?
small black sharp and shrill, recitation of holy verses

finally made the kill-all flew away as quickly as they
had come, and hoping that all had gone , we took the
back seat, the food basket in between us placed,
dinner to deliver at the hospital gate, trembling still

at the bat attack, cautiously moved on to the road
hardly a furlong had we gone,when sister let out
a loud scream-something shuffling, flapping dark –
Stop the car Oh Stop- Another scream, a loud screech

door crashed open-out flew a dark black bat,
somehow it had clasped the basket, and had
slipped inside -never ever so terrified  was I
that night, Halloween or magic – wondered Why?

But then we knew Mother would not be with us
for long, doctors helpless signaled the Swan Song’
with food for Mother we were going, when Bats
flew around –  Myths say they warn of Death –

soon soon Mother would be without life
without breath- to Heaven taken, to Heaven
gone-

For ~ The Poet By Day ~ G Jamie Dedes ~ Wednesday Writing Prompt~ A Poem ! ‘Words and My Writing Place ~

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‘Write about your writing place’ was the prompt’ A Place to write is a Place to Shine’, my writing itself involved me to such an extent that I missed sending a response. Well, I thought I would carve a piece out of my writing repertoire itself , present and share it with my readers, so here goes….

A Poem First

Each moment each day
as words come and play
move around right and left
settle down in words inset
take my thoughts feelings
hold my heart when it is
reeling, gather my tears
as they slide with fears
letter by letter line by line
‘like a bridge over troubled
waters’, they lay themselves
on the page smiling, doubled
and I smile back at them
meet them with my watery
eyes,again and again, to
remain beside and be at peace
heavenly…

 

I once wrote the following story….

Your writing place must be comfortable otherwise you have a backache and a head ache plus a pain in the neck.’ Who ever said that?

‘well….

For the umpteenth time I have changed the position of my writing table.In fact I have three tables now’. What?

 

Light Keeps the Spirits Alight

Three tables?

Yes, one for the laptop…

‘LAPTOP! The laptop is supposed to be on the lap…

well, it is supposed to be but its not. One table has a drawer for small stationery items and my medicine bag and the mobile charging wire and…well, some small cash….and yellow stick on notes’..somehow I am not comfortable with the seat, the elbow placement, and now I cannot see what I am writing for the page needs to be manually scrolled down…here, that’s better…

Oh there goes the signal…tnnnnn’ my opponent has made a ‘word’

What’s that supposed to mean…well, let me share the fact that I am a bit of a ‘distracted one’…I am a Gemini and I need to do two things at a time, only then I am …er…moving on…am able to move on…

Facing the window

writers desk.jpg

I need to face the window for that gives a view of ‘freedom’ a sense of the ‘open minded environment’ though I am still behind the bars…the windows have very strong grills…meant as security, safety and to keep away the flies and the bees and the lizards…though the lizards do visit, stay and then slither away…and to keep me safe inside…facing the window I face West and that is better for I can offer my prayers easily and be in the right direction and keep my place….

Lights in the evening

what about lights on the desk?

‘well, I have three again…one is for the background white light , the cool one, one is the standard lamp, a British style tall elegant stand with a maroon shade. ‘Oh the bulb is an energy saver-in fact all three are energy savers…these days only energy savers are available and they are highly effective for they save a lot of energy…the human energy…one doesn’t have to keep getting up to switch off …

‘It does nothing to save the electricity bill…that keeps increasing while the energy is being conserved…at least some achievement.The third one is the smallest and you may call it the reading light’ I only switch it on when I really need to read…

‘Is there any lamp on the walls? well, yes when I have to knit then I use that one for it brightens up the whole room and I can comfortably see the stitches…er…needles…er…needle points…Oh whatever…

‘words,words,words’…

‘what about the words?

words are no problem…actually I am reading emails from ‘Content Marketing’ and I am collecting a lot of words plus I have six assignments…

SIX? how come what are you studying?

well, its for someone very dear to me I promised to help read up the material and believe me its so interesting I wish I were …social media and mass media and advertising-I love the way the world has gone digital…its so different so colourful and amazing the way consumers are sharing so much….

I could be a Marketing Strategic Planner…If Only…well…

‘Teach English for that whats the world needs to learn at the moment…

Oh Dear I wish I had not heard that phrase’..

‘it is the fastest than….OH UH…

where was that? not in an English class? I hope…

Distraction again…’

‘Hmm I was not listening…what did you say?

‘well never mind…its OK…

I know how it is ….my writing place is now half facing the outside world and half inside.I donated the computer chair for it was hurting my hip bone and I thought I was growing old and developing arthritis and literally started limping…but thanks to the Almighty …I discovered the real thing…? not sharing with anyone at the moment…

‘well, whatever it is I have managed to gather some tips for the writers…keep changing your place and it helps to freshen up your perspective, hear the crows caw and the birds sing and if possible view the lonely clouds perhaps you may compose a Wordsworthian style poem ….good luck…’did I hear…Happy New Year?

Happy Feet-I may say…and ‘where do I begin?

In Response To Respected G Jamie Dedes’s Wednesday Writing Prompt ‘Sports’ ~ A Preamble ‘

Photo Credit © CER 2019
PG FG College for Women
Wah Cantt
IMG_20190530_074735Cup and Certificate Awarded  for Organizing Managing and Participating  in Table Tennis Inter Class Competitions at Post Graduate FG College for Women Wah Cantt  Pakistan.

 

A Preamble

Respected G Jamie Dedes Sports Prompt this week has coincided with the opening of ICC World Cup International Cricket Competition 2019 being held in England.
For me the prompt was like the drop of a silver stone in a clear water pond creating ripples of fond nostalgic memories of life in the early years when sports events were followed almost with near religious sanctity. Radio and newspapers were the main source of information. Listening skills were sharpened and newspapers helped in creating scrapbooks of key players of national and international teams. Collecting and compiling and organizing data was the best learning activity. Before I share my poem I would like to share a few pages from my memoirs with my readers. I am sure this would be an interesting  addition  to the growing variation of contributions to Respected Jamie Ji’s exciting thought provoking and thoroughly enjoyable weekly prompts. Thank you Jamie Ji for creating these wonderful writing opportunities. 

Indoor or outdoor ‘Sports’ had a sacred place in daily activities as a favorite hobby and leisure time occupation at home in the early years of life in the new country.The 1950s and 1960s reflect high standards of national team performances in the games of field hockey,tennis, cricket, squash, and athletics.The whole family was deeply involved in each match tournament or international competitions.My interest in Sports was the result of the high enthusiasm at home specially manifested by my loving father. He himself was a good hockey and tennis player. Indoors the games played with family members were Bridge (a card game) Carom and Chess. In fact the truth was the ‘absence of digital technology and television which left ample spare time for healthy sport activities. An occasional classic movie like ‘The Cruel Sea’ ‘Gone With The Wind’, To Kill a Mocking Bird’, ‘The King and I’ and specially the comedy series of Laurel and Hardy were a treat enjoyed  at the local Cinema Houses.
fampics 0011.jpg0099Here one can see father in his white sports shorts  black blazer and white socks and sports shoes , commonly called then, the ‘PT Shoes’. He is holding my younger sister, his third daughter. Almost every evening a couple of tennis games in the nearby GHQ Tennis Courts were part of the weekly routine. The weekends would be set aside for home affairs.
An ideal personality for many friends and family my Father’s smoking style would always be captured too. During the International Cricket matches of Pakistan with either England Australia or India (these were the top  teams in those years) after office hours listening to the running commentary of the match on the radio was not missed.
Field hockey was another favorite.I remember when Pakistan was playing the quarter final match with Germany in the Olympics in Rome in the 1960’s. When Germany scored the equalizer goal father was quite disturbed. Listening to the commentary he would remark, ‘Oh No, why give a back pass, there is no back pass in hockey, one needs to play forward , attack the opponents goal’ Pakistan won by 2-1 score and later also won the Gold medal  by defeating India in the final by a single goal.The historic goal was scored by Nasir Bunda. The excitement and anxiety of the match involved everyone at home. The game was fully enjoyed by all and we learnt much about sportsman’s spirit and how to accept defeat bravely. Other important lessons were following rules, sharing and making  efforts as a team. Over the years sports has undergone tremendous change, from white dress and a red ball to multi colored clothes and a white ball  and from the radio to live digital internet / telecasts.

I still believe old times had a special charm in  sports and to top it all Pakistan has a former cricket team captain and a world cup winner as its Prime Minister. The Political party symbol being none other than the ‘cricket bat’, obviously…

2019 ~NaPoWriMo ~ Second Week of Poetic Responses to Art and Music ~ Dedication to Mr Paul Brookes of Wombwellrainbow.com and Synaesthetic Artist Mr Sammy-John ~ Making Connections…

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Poetry acts like a bridge.I believe it is not for sale  It has value for generations gone by and for generations to come. It awakens spirits of drowsy nations, entertains guides and instructs. It is colored and scented as carnations. If poetry is defined as the ‘spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings’ then it would surely be enriched if combined with art color and music. Strangely yet possible in this digital age the  ‘connecting bridge’ between Mr Paul Brookes of Wombwellrainbow.com  UK the Synaesthetic Artist Mr Sammy-John and Myself, was the social media ‘messenger on line’  Quick communicative connection kept the challenge  alive and moving. A new painting a new music symbol title,  requiring fresh research was the challenge for me. Before I begin to trace words on paper I visit two  great  sources of knowledge namely the  Divine Knowledge source and the World of Mythology. The beauty of knowledge lies embedded in these boundless realms. The third area is the repertoire of language vocabulary and semantics. The discoveries are amazing spectacular and spellbinding yet so simple at times.The Collaboration took shape as a triangular link, from Word to Window and from Window to WordPress…

Presenting Week Two

Day Eight

Wild Flowers

Beyond the beauty, revealed, quest of finding more persists,
on green and brown sky on land tiny yellow blue and white, exists

I have found flowers, flowers wild dancing, waving, studded in green
visible in the weeds, I hear the velvet tripping of the footsteps of Spring-

Summer pheasants’ eyes shine- agave branches out to meet Alder
or trumpets at ‘baby blue eyes’, or the Barren Strawberry white roses’

Wild flowers touch me like poetry, swaying to soundless sacred sweet
symphonies side to side in obeisance, to invisible conducting companies,

Offering soft cool overtures to  burning soles of injured souls,
enriching meadows to the core, offering ample colorful cures,

wild flowers in deserted desert dunes, dream to possess, as King
Ozymandias waits in stony silence, slithering snakes undulating weave

their colors in the sand, dreading the deadly Peregrine, embroidered,
jaded, studded, laid for romances, wondrous world of plant fragrances,

wave upon wave of variegated crowns, at times, in remote treks, God’s prosody
wild flowers grow, the sight so asking for journeys, ventures and a supreme odyssey’

Day  Nine

A   G Minor

Cue by Mr Paul Brookes :  a key for disgruntlement, a feeling   as  if being a victim


It’s her ’ and no one smiled.abandoned, just a heap of trash

In many lands, born of any caste or creed, not differentiated,

cashed song composed without G Minor fifteen to a forty niner, old miner-

might as well dig coal or carry bricks facing negligence torture injustice

books burnt, sold destroyed tricked  yelling in silent agony, ravaged into

zombies senseless, has humanity not metamorphosed, song stilled , shot.

Day Ten     

C  Sharp  Minor

 

It will not be in a tin fruit can with sweet juice
but in gardens high of a hundred levels

with flowing river water falls and fruits
in plenty none forbidden nor prohibited,

but tasty fruits I saw in childhood would
be a surprise studded rubies in yellow

without space, like Berries, bananas layered ,
dates figs and olives grapes, apples

I loved and dreamed about
Dreams colorful peaceful and brighter

than the brightest star, skies opening in
circles of sound C sharp minor , symphonies

of fragrant flowers, celestial overtures
descending in harmony, all these emerge

as ecstatic aquamarine in numbers in
thousands of pearly castles in golden

diamonds O beautiful gardens heavenly,
I hear notes in C sharp minor,

I gather good deeds to be in, with
the symphony

Day Eleven

My Croci

 


Oh Croci ! no more do I see you on wine glasses,
nor in wreaths crowned on the heads of joyful

Youths, winter white shawl lies cold spread out
all over the valley, river runs red with blood of

Martyrs, the young who still had life to live and

love, but freedom lies fettered , glaciers gaze

From snow lines on the peaks, the sun timidly peers

Oh Croci, wake up’ it’s time wake up before death

Plays its tune, in colors blue white and golden yellow

wake up in purple royal, let the golden strands flow

O Croci bring dignity pride and success, and saffron

let the rebirth begin, the season rise with your perfume

The early bird waits on the bare branch silently-

do not despair oh winged warner’ gold will bloom

Oh Croci come let us be joyful and welcome Spring

many grooms are waiting for many brides to bring…

O Croci may the prayers be answered may freedom ring’

Let freedom ring…

Day Twelve

September in E  Flat

During the senior school learning years,
there were hardly any troubles any fears

the best I remember, song ‘Come September’
in rhythm and dance, I can still hear the

silence of the summer, turn to E Flat murmur
in melancholy, half cooler,  half warmer

younger days when responsibility ensnares
but that September, war, felt in E Flat chord

the only outcome, smoke n oily metal smell,
 falling leaves, an occasional falling petal-

when we could hear the drops of  falling rain
light was the hurt,  and  less was the pain

we could dance to the tune, but softly
now I hear the E Flat octave tremble

but  what should I really remember,
the melting melody or just  the number?

 

Day Thirteen

Commission for Pennies

 

Colors, in water, rare reflections of emotions,
of efforts endless, often in darkness defined

Jaded pale stones, oils, a mixed media, priceless,
commissioned for pennies, what pieces of art

undiscovered, melodies unheard, for pennies
in low moods maintained, painted, dabbed

on eager canvases, hung on lonely easels,
hidden in art rooms abandoned…

Awaiting the sunlight of truthful recognition,
A  Vain legacy in history

Day  Fourteen

 Movement II

movement ii
Cue :  Moving from a comfort zone to a challenging one

 

Clutching her mother’s coat sleeve
holding on to the warmth and security,

of grey white and red checkered tweed,
a natural bond, but a futile struggle,

someone larger than life led her aside,
slowly pulled away, she let go-

swept away by a figure,
clad in thick folded clothes, she

drifted along the blended figure’s
firm movements, brisk and balanced-

suddenly, all was quiet as she tried to
look back, her mother’s painful silent

but determined gaze was no longer visible,
neither was she-

the figure’s movement went
on to a door marked ‘KG’

small chairs and tables filled the hall
a large black board stared at her

eyes now tear less, body obedient, mind
blank- she sat down and gazed back-

movement two had begun-

2019 ~ Mythical May Story Poems for Ger O’Neill’s Group ~ The Girl Child’s Mystery~ It Happened Twelve Years Ago …

No photo description available.

How things happen how time flies 
how things end how time crawls 
how people come stay and go
how people come make you wait 
how you wait and they do not show
how you grieve and feel deep sadness
how they smile laugh, display madness
how they seek joy in other’s torture and pain
do they think that they will  be blessed again ?

The Beginning -In the Forest A Mystery Unfolds…
‘Time to move.It was 2.a.m.In the small hours of the night as thunder rumbled across the dark skies.Flashes of lightening lit up the slumbering mountain town,high in the majestic Himalayas,unknown, never climbed rugged mysterious valleys stood silent motionless
In the flash two forms started their strange journey,their descent from the tor,No one could see them now.They seemed to appear from nowhere.Slowly they made their way not missing a single step.Madam Goldwood opened the door as usual with the first ray of the sun cutting over the mountain top.The sun was not so bright today,trying to force its way out as if to warn the people.The two beings slowly approached the Inn,their faces half hidden by their sleek black coats.They were silent.They stopped at the wooden steps of the verandah. Madam Goldwood rubbed her eyes.

‘Customers? so early? who were they?

One after the other they stepped on the porch. ‘Madam Goldwood could not stop them from entering.She was now wide awake and noticed the dark expressionless eyes of the visitors.Their look was serious and determined. One of them started to take out something from inside his long black coat.It was a medium sized black wooden box. he stretched his arm towards Madam,motioned with his head , nodded slightly, and spoke in a heavy voice ‘ Take this Madam.We are giving you something special and precious.You have to keep it safe for five years’ Exactly on this day when the sun rises open it at your doorstep and move a little away from it.Do not look at it but go inside and wait in your room.It will be a tough waiting time.It will take more than an hour.

‘A child will appear, a girl child’You will take care of her,groom and teach her well,feed her for good health, till the time when one of us will return.

2019 ~ Mythical May Story Poems ~ For Ger O’Neill Group ~ In The First Forest Clearing …

forest Mythical May

 

In The First  Forest Clearing

Welcome Mythical May
During the night,not during
the day
days are getting warmer
nights are getting charmer
come out to play
for some the coming nights
will be holy and bright
but really nights are dark
and lonely
If there is no moon
dark spirits are out soon
moon fairies hide, trees breathe
somewhere in a clearing, a
secret meeting will decide
who will be the next Forest King’s
bride?

2019 ~ NaPoWriMo ~ Day 15 ~ Dramatic Monologue ~ A Pencil’s Soliloquy ~

Today, I’d like to challenge you to write your own dramatic monologue.

PENCIL

Image Digital Painting :   2019 © CER

   

                   A    Pencil’s   Soliloquy 

How child like I am sometimes, how immature and yet so human
Held by humans, used by humans some human qualities
have seeped in my slender nature, stub and point,
front and back, top to bottom;

I too have keen anxieties, pressure points, and cutting edges,
I too roll and turn lie on the floor and twist around in circles
yet I do allow myself to be accepted, played with and bear
the slings and tappings’ of my wooden frame and fortune makes
the better of me, in the bin, cut or chiseled, I lose shape and skin”

Gradually become short, naked and remain sleek and thin;
most dangerous trial that I ever face, is when placed behind
the ear I lose  my  grace, O’ what shame I feel when scraped

painfully from my sides, is the maker’s mark and  my graceful name.

Think not that once my form is broken, my shape distorted,
I lie, cry, fly, spy, pry, buy, ply, try, tie ‘n untie or just die,
to end up in Dubai.

I am remade to serve humanity, I live forever , shine sharply-
to write sketch draw note scribble or scratch to appear like
a brilliant comet in the sky—

 

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