Category: Silver Linings(Personal) (page 2 of 10)

Meaning To My Life (poem)

We all have things in the past, demons inside our heads, insecurities, shortcomings, complexes and a sense of purpose, all these we choke on and we need to find release, something that diverts yet propels us in the direction where we can find some kind of a mutual ground between dreams and reality, if we’re lucky the escape becomes the meaning to our life. In a minuscule way I have kind of stumbled upon that mutual ground is what I like to think, I maybe wrong though, for I can see not the big picture and also life is notorious for being unpredictable.


I once woke up looking for the meaning to my life
and strangely thought I’ll find it near the sea…
the waves would look for it and come
running back with empty hands to me…
I didn’t have it in me then
the patience to chase it any more…
I went back to my mind-slumber
and retreated back into my chaos…

soon enough I was choking on my
thoughts feeling constrained in my mind…
I had to release those before
my sanity was jeopardised…
I instinctively wrapped my fingers around a pen
and my fingertips bled words…
the blotches on my pages was the meaning to my life
coming back to me over time in these blood spurts

©Seema Tabassum 2016
©lifeshues.org 2016
All content and images copyright 2016
All rights reserved.

picture courtesy : unsplash.com

To read a post which is not a poem but something straight from my heart kindly click here. Thank you.
My website is self-hosted I don’t have the regular features where you can just like my poem, so I request you to leave a word or two so I may know if you liked my post, thank you for stopping by, most appreciate your time.

Drifting Contemplations: My Poetry (micropoetry)

If I’m asked what poetry is to me I would have no answer, I could write and have written poems on what poetry is but I still find myself stumbling across notions and words to say anything, if one thinks about a new idea to write a poem every minute of the day will you call it obsession or passion?
I call it desperation, because there are a million poets writing a million poems in a day so if an idea is out I cannot write for it anymore because that would mean copying and I don’t do that, I have at least a hundred poems in my drafts and I’m scared to death that if I delay putting them out there for all to read there will be someone else with that idea in their head and I will have to give up posting it as mine if I don’t post it first, in the past I’ve had to let go of two micro-poems because a fellow poet had already posted something on those lines, so that has now come to become my life, constantly trying to come up with something that no one has written but this is about micro-poems, of course there are long poems where we repeat lines but I try my best to bring something new to the reader’s mind, I mean how many times can one read about stars in eyes right?
They say we are in a golden age, networking wise, but I find it more a bane than a boon, at least to a poet, all ideas and lines are out there hovering in web-space and I have to break my head over what to write which is new and not recycled and refreshingly different for the reader, it is a task, so of course I am thinking about it all the time, to sum it up I’ll say that poetry to me is my baby of which I want to be proud so I go about my work with integrity and I am very desperate, desperate for new ideas, for new lines and desperate to be the first to come up with a refreshingly different take on a million year old topic `love’ …
the following micro-poems are about what poetry is to me, my night sky and my oozing wound, I truly do wonder if my vulnerability can give birth to my poetry then my strength can do wonders, but like they say, a poet exploits everything, maybe I’m just exploiting every experience, mine and other’s, well, I should right?


My vulnerability
has birthed
the night sky…
unfathomable then
what my strength
can originate…

**artwork by the very talented S.I.N.A’S. D.O.O.D.L.E.S do check this artist’s page for inspiration.

©Seema Tabassum 2017
©lifeshues.org 2017
All content and images copyright 2017
All rights reserved.


I bleed love…
and they call it poetry

**artwork by me, but the idea was from an illustration I came across on Pinterest.

©Seema Tabassum 2016
©lifeshues.org 2016
All content and images copyright 2016
All rights reserved.

To read another poem on `Poetry’ kindly click here. Thank you.
I hope you enjoy reading.Thank you for stopping by and please leave a comment because my website is self-hosted I don’t have the regular features where you can just like my poem, most appreciate your time.

Quixotic (poem)

Quixotic is the word(Masha Allah) and I don’t mean to exaggerate…

I’m the kind who
pays attention to
the details…
if I have a conversation
I have a hundred questions…
why did you say this…
when you said it
did you mean it…
or you said because
you were angry…
what’s going through
your mind…

questions become walls
and my entire life
I’ve been tormented
by these walls
which gave more questions
less answers…
you you and you
everyone thinks it’s frivolous…
I think it’s essential…
how will you deal
if you don’t know
why what and when
and how…
how to resolve…
I felt cornered
cut out and unwelcome
each time you left without answers…
when a conversation ended
without conclusion…
I felt cold and stupid…
and I have a side which doesn’t
want to be a pain either
by asking questions…

but in this entire world…
in this entire world
I have this person
who answers every question…
asks questions…
is concerned…
won’t let me be…
won’t let me wither…
is clear like stream water…
will answer till
I’m convinced
even if it takes the whole night…
will not shut the door on me…
will never leave things unresolved…
and no matter how stupid
or unnecessary my questions are
he answers all…
all till all’s understood…
till there’s no misunderstanding…
till there’s not an ounce of doubt…
till I’m at peace he won’t sleep…
and in the morning
when he wakes up
even after we’ve spent the whole night
trying to get things clear
his first words are
“Tabassum, Mamma, all’s well right, then hug”…

my work place is a couch
from which I can monitor
both the boys…
their beds I see from where I sit…
Taher(hubby) when he wakes up
flashes his phone’s light at me…
I’ve come to get so used to it
I wonder what I’ll do if a day
comes when he won’t feel the need to
or is not on that bed (God forbid)…
I hate to love so much…
depend so much…
hurt so much…
that’s why I like to
remain detached
and focus on other things
and not on our love…
our love is sacred…
I’m scared that my over involvement will jinx it…
that’s why I like to keep
the storm that is our love at a bay…
because it is oh so unreal and dreamy…
it cannot be true
and that scares me…
I don’t want anything going bad
to the only right thing in my life…
all my relations have been messed
except this one…
this one thing
that is right in my life…
and surely that only thing
that I got and I don’t deserve
am unworthy of…
that one thing I can fall back on…
that one thing that has no doors
that will close on me…
block me…
leave me in the cold or dark…
that one thing that makes my life
even worth living…
I cannot lose this heart
that is the purest form of love…
will love me even if I’m a cripple…
will overlook my flaws…
with whom I don’t have to worry
if I’m being a pain or asking the
wrong questions…
with whom I don’t have to worry
about showing the right side of me
because he embraces even my ugly…
the lost side…the confused side…
the emotional fool side…
emotionally dependent side…
drowned in nostalgia side…
living in the past side…
divided among so many things side…
the aloof side…
the selfish side…
the obsessive compulsive side…
the perfectionist(in vain) side…
the condescending attitude side…
the need to be left alone side…
the misanthrope side…
the hot head side…
the impatient side…
the restless side…
the superiority complex side…
the feels incompetent side…

each and every flaw in me
just goes unnoticed…
this man was made for me…
to fill the void for all that
I don’t have in my life…
to fill the hole that is my heart…
grateful is not word enough
and my actions don’t convey
gratitude either…
but my heart which longs
for a sea of people
has home in his heart…
we have home in each other…
if there is a word soulmate
it is him…
because a million times
we’ve talked without talking…
resolved issues without arguing…
answered without questioning…
accepted without judging…

though my heart longs for the world
it’s here with him where it
truly feels it belongs…
or is wanted and welcomed…
questions and inconveniences
and all

©Seema Tabassum 2017
©lifeshues.org 2017
All content and images copyright 2017
All rights reserved.

*The handsome man in the picture is my hubby.

To read another personal poem kindly click here. Thank You.

Drifting Contemplations: Muse (micropoetry)

Muse and musings and the poet, I don’t know what to say about my muse, I’m not even sure if I have one, I mean if I have only one, are we supposed to have only one? Maybe my mind is fickle, kidding, I find myself inspired by anything, everything and also nothing, maybe in my case the nothingness is what begets my poetry, the numbness could be my most favourite muse, I find myself writing just because my pen needs a run, but sometimes I write from heart too when I’m overwhelmed by emotions, it used to be a lot of heart earlier and so my tag line was `straight from the heart’ which I changed because now honestly it is more an exercise, but here, this post is all heart, his effects, his beautiful eyes and voice, hope you like…


drunk on
your voice…
my mind spews poetry

©Seema Tabassum 2016
©lifeshues.org 2016


I read
the best poetry
in your eyes

©Seema Tabassum 2016
©lifeshues.org 2016
All content and images copyright 2016
All rights reserved.

picture courtesy : unsplash.com

To read a post on Poetic Definitions kindly click here. Thank you.

Aki Momiji (Autumn’s Maple Leaves) haiku

Aki is Autumn in Japanese and Momiji is maple leaf…and this ladies and gentlemen is probably my last post this year on Autumn,it is time for my heart’s transition from Autumn to Winter and I shall(hopefully) make it obvious through my poetry here…

This haiku was written for an event where I had to write for a dear friend and she was gracious enough to reply to me through poetry,now we’re working as a team for Poetry For Peace

Manuelle Augustine lives in Japan and I have lived in Japan and that is our biggest connection though not the only reason for why I love her immensely,she’s the sweetest soul,a great poet,passionate about poetry and people,is gentle,most patient and very beautiful,our friendship is unconditional and a bit painful for me because her pain from her poetry moves me and because I feel for her deeply and at one point we almost lost each other in this sea of people but we’re working together and it’s great that I get to interact with her more…

HAIKU

atashii tachi
no yuujou ga setsunai–
aki mimoji

あたし たち
の ゆうじょう が せつない–
あき もみじ

TRANSLATION

our friendship
too painful and bleeds–
autumn’s maple leaves

©Seema Tabassum 2015
©http://tab1525.blogspot.com 2015
©lifeshues.org 2015

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Written by +Manuelle Augustine​​

My Dearest Ever Sweet Loving Seema

Drowned in my deepest seas
I lost me…
Forgive that I fly away in the skies…
Your friendship I treasure along with time…
No words could suffice my gratitude to thine…

Atashi tachi
no yuujou ga setsunaii–
aki momiji…
happa kaze ni notte
oozora takaku

あたし たち
の ゆうじょう が せつない–
あき もみじ…
はっぱ かぜ に のって
おおぞら たかく

Our friendship
painful and bleeds
autumn maple leaves
Leaves blown away by the wind
high above the wide blue skies

©Manuelle Augustine 2015

Seema-Manuelle Japanese-English Haiku

To understand the significance of Momiji in Japan kindly read this elaborate post The Japanese And Their Love Affair With The Maple Tree,I’ll also take the liberty to say that only if you’ve lived in Japan can you understand how deeply it’s embedded in their culture and hearts…

Haiku is a form of Japanese poetry, consisting of 17 morae (or on), in three metrical phrases of 5, 7 and 5 morae respectively,these typically contain a kigo, or seasonal reference, and a kireji, or verbal caesura(cutting word).English-language haiku poets think of this as a Japanese form of poetry generally (but not always) consisting of 17 syllables, usually within three lines, with 5, 7 and 5 syllables.In Japanese, haiku are traditionally printed in a single vertical line, while in English these usually appear in three lines, to parallel the three metrical phrases of the Japanese form. The essential element of form in English-language is that each haiku is a short one-breath poem that usually contains a juxtaposition of images.Most writers prefer poems that refer to nature and social events, but some of them don’t always place an exacting seasonal word in the poem. Furthermore, a few of them compose on one or two lines in less than 17 syllables. Currently the majority of poems in this form are written in 11 short syllables in a 3-5-3 format.
Senryu is a Japanese form of short poetry similar to haiku in construction: three lines with 17 or fewer morae (or on) in total. However, senryu tend to be about human foibles while haiku tend to be about nature, and senryu are often cynical or darkly humorous while the other is more serious. Unlike haiku, senryu do not include a kireji or verbalcaesura (cutting word), and do not generally include a kigo, or seasonal word.It is often said that both forms can be funny, but that if it’s funny, it’s probably senryu. Both can be about nature, but if it’s about nature, it’s probably a haiku. In addition, both can be about nature or human nature. Both can be serious or humorous/satirical. A serious poem about nature is certainly a haiku. And a funny/satirical poem about human nature is certainly a senryu.
information courtesy : akitahaiku.com

picture courtesy : unsplash.com

To read other haiku that I wrote on autumn again kindly click here. Thank you.

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