Living Poetry



“You still stand watch, O human star, burning without a flicker, perfect flame, bright and resourceful spirit. Each of your rays a great idea – O torch which passes from hand to hand, from age to age, world without end.” -Karel Capek

Flickers of
her musical.
evoked Wild, Untamed

 – Mariam Rehman

the nib of a pen is more romantic, don’t you think?

All the energy of thinking is eventually shown in the nib of a pen.

Of course, here we can substitute nib by ballpoint, computer keyboard, or pencil, but the nib of a pen is more romantic, don’t you think?
To get back to the theme: words eventually condense an idea.

Paper is just a support for this idea.
But the pen will always remain with you, and you must know how to use it.

Periods of inactivity are necessary – a pen that is always writing ends up losing the awareness of what it is doing.
So let it rest whenever possible, and concern yourself with living and meeting your friends.

When you return to the business of writing, you will find a happy pen with all its strength intact.
Pens have no conscience: they are an extension of the writer’s hand and desire.

They serve to destroy reputations, make us dream, send news, trace pretty words of love.
So always be clear about your intentions.

The hand is where all the muscles of the body, all the intentions of the person writing, all the effort to share what he feels, are concentrated.
It is not just a part of his arm but an extension of his thought.

Hold your pen with the same respect that a violinist has for his instrument. 


Sprouting joy- Haiku

‘Your heart is full of fertile seeds, waiting to sprout.’ – Morihei Ueshiba

All at once, she saw

Spring and Sprouting flowers in

Bursting Joy and bliss.

– Mariam Rehman

Scarlet – Haiku

“The great hall was shimmering in light, sun streaming from the open windows, and ablaze with colour, the walls decorated with embroidered hangings in rich shades of gold and crimson. New rushes had been strewn about, fragrant with lavender, sweet woodruff, and balm… the air was… perfumed with honeysuckle and violet, their seductive scents luring in from the gardens butterflies as blue as the summer sky.”  ― Sharon Kay Penman, Devil’s Brood

Dance with the Stars and

Scarlet scarf enveloped in

Joy; drifting in Love.

-Mariam Rehman

You begin to whirl…

When you dance the whole universe dances.

All the realms spun around you in endless celebration.

Your soul loses its grip.

Your body sheds its fatigue.

Hearing my hands clap and my drum beat,

You begin to whirl.


The Swimmer

An absolutely brilliant piece!

Richard M. Ankers - Author

Rain battered the water’s surface. What had been sea was instead a myriad pools of individual ripples all bursting outwards, all seeking to be free. The auburn beauty who swam through them seemed not to notice. Her slender figure, a china doll cast into the ocean, battled against tide and weather, as though her destiny lay beyond the distant horizon, or the next, or the next. She was naked; she was free.

I stood on the clifftops and watched her leave. It was mesmerising in it’s own way to see her swim off into the night. I don’t think she knew I was there, how could she? But I think it would have comforted her to know that I was; to know someone cared. Because it wasn’t until I lost sight of her that I realised she wasn’t coming back.

I could never be sure what she sought in the…

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