The tides came and
Washed her steps away
As though footprints were never engraved
Her feelings washed away with the tide
But the tides come and go
So do people.
Hello wordpress I am back finally and here to stay not like tides hopefully.
Tides on daily post
beautiful picture is not mine but i have a post liking to the owner of this image
Salma babani copyright 2018
misogyny is enamored by us
boys will be boys , they said
but she is a girl, why not………..
endless improvement suggestions
pushed down our throats
why can’t you keep your husband straight, you have failed
see so and so her husband doesn’t do this, why not………….
why is he beating her, she is not clean
she does not know how to keep a man
why will he, if she had been coy, sweet talker, better cook
better yet always improving herself
Be more patient, are you praying ?
while no effort is made over there,
so i say, why not….he…………….
can she clap with one hand ?
better yet, is he still a child ?
endless rhetorical questions
“In the end, the basic ingredients of existence never falter, whether you’re flying business or red-eye economy, or staying home.” Erin at outerNotes reflects on the lifestyle of a worldly jet-setter and wonders whether she’s “made it.”
via On That Life I Always Wanted — Discover
Now i know whats probably on your mind as a reader, that oops here she comes again, she probably ate rice and can’t keep shut or its the santi, the rice was talking it possessed me “but no! ” in my beyoncé voice, it was just as inspiration goes, so without further a do, can you guess i have been watching nach baliye and i don’t care whether its divek or ishima and vivek but i want them to win.
rice rice rice oh what have you done to man on earth
you so plain looking yet exquisite
savoury and sweet as in pudding or salty and fried as in naasi goreng
even while bare you roar up a fight
from the commoners to the rich you are best to all
with the best stir fry you create a tamashah ( ruckus )
with the least of ketchups you make ears roll
to the hungry stomach you are music
jollof rice na you ; nations are at twitter wars for you
fried chicken is your icing on the cake
maggi is the sugar in your tea
pepper is the key to your flavour
tomato is the door to your beauty
sorry for the interruption in the book please a round of applause for rice, thank you, now for the loverrs of rice, just think about the best rice you have had in a while, now use the brain cells you have left after all that sweet memory to give rice a huge round of applause.
A snippet of my book on wattpad A heart for the slum
Sometimes I have no idea of what to put on my watercolor paper. Today was one of those days. I like drawing lines with my dip pen (more so with the broad tipped nibs than the more narrow tips). My pen strokes weren’t as smooth as I would have liked. Instead of fullness of convex […]
via Ocarina — Brotherly Love
see the thing is,
life will always have challenges whether you sleep beneath a tree or in the loftiest palace,
whether you have a car or not,
it cares not about how ugly or pretty you are
as they say the grass is not always greener on the other side
you may look and envy them
but you did not see what they hid behind their smiles
you saw but the glitz during the day
nor the tears that cuddle them to sleep
or the pills that give them peace
you highlighted the darkness in yours against the brightness in theirs
had you compared your dark to their dark
jealousy would be a foreign word
envy a forgotten feeling
I just know someone pointed out that it is on ENVY AND JEALOUSY NOT ANGER AND FRUSTRATION bilkul corrrect , though it was intentional , just see the irony in it yaar, these two feelings can sometimes be intertwined.
I will post on the opposite next week insha Allah , now without further a do , to get access to the other posts on the ON SERIES , just click on the #Theonseries
In the detail from Botticelli’s painting, the one of the oranges in their deep green trees at twilight, I’m able to feel it again. As a child, I didn’t see the brush strokes but the painter’s pure vision, standing between the real and the oils that caught it. What floats between the thing and […]
via Doug Anderson: Morning Poem — Vox Populi