Sugar crystals

Oh look its a calender.
Only it doesn't really function. (yet)
Time has told me not to ask for more.
Also-
After months, I think its time to finally make it official:

so yes.
That.
:O)
doo bee dooo de doop doop de doooo.
May you be showered with a dozen balloons.

Fireworks

Today there were fireworks in my city.
Not in the sky. But 8 explosions.
Yes, It didn't hurt. It could have been worse.
But it represents a drive that worries me.

I understand destruction.
With each drop of ink the space that was my canvas is broken.
with every syllable silence is dead.
But out of this death is born creation. the cycle continues.
(and on and on and on)
and there's so much love to give. there's so much love to give.
Here we are. Poets.painters.philosophers.politicians. desperately trying to grasp what we're born into. All the immensity. trying to imitate. trying to emulate.
'but art can never imitate. It can only inspire.'
We cannot play god. through bombs. through paint.
The approach should then not be to imitate. To have 'creation' at your fingertips.
but to thank.

I could spend years painting a mountain. It will never be the mountain itself.
trapped on paper. not so vivid.
in technicolour.
(It will never be the mountain.)
It only expresses love for that mountain.
It is not to make it mine. But to make it me.
Love is:
Anterior to life.
Posterior to death
Initial to creation
the exponent of breath.

From a set of 22 Illustrations
for a Children's book of poetry in Hindi.

About a little girl. Starry eyes.
Braids in her hair.
Falls into dreams,
Sails to the Moon, Speaks too soon.
She climbs trees, makes wings and wonderlands.
Falls through rabbit holes into bluebacked skies.

Half Shiva Half Shakti

Half Shiva-Half Shakti.

Blue skin. Rivers flow from your hair.

Lotus. Love. Creation. Destruction

The end. A beginning.

Masculine. Feminine.

With the moon near your crown.
and a lotus on your skin.

Thank you.

your eyes have their silence

I've always been afraid
of bringing things I create with my hands
into a digital world. I was afraid that maybe somewhere between the
blinking screen and the ink on my fingers
something would be lost. like the silver key you kept in your coat pocket.

blue lines that only some light can percieve.
I've decided to trust electrons zipping through invisible space
with my soul stretched out in inks

And scan pages off my notebook. for a million mirrors to see.
and open me.

"we can create kingdoms of our own
grand purple thrones
those chairs of lust
and love we must
on beds of rust"

me beaootiful mother.
she now has a blog that I maintain.
go fishity :)
Nilofer Suleman