He sits alone in his room at midnight
Having dreams as bright as his youthful eyes
His inventions take forms of drafts and sketches
And his eyes begin to sparkle
A satisfactory smile adorns his dry lips
Then a sigh of peace spreads in the darkness
Would the world even appreciate his evergreen spirit ?
Would his hardwork of years receive due respect ?
Or just taken for granted ?
His struggle to make a difference in the lives of poor countrymen is so precious
Happily he wards off a dream of luxury life for himself
For him the real life means to live for others
Never give up on them my dear !
For men like you are not born every day
Your kind of love is the only one , I long for ,even today
Your kind of beauty ,my heart absorbed and wanted to keep forever
Even after so many years , yours is the love so vivid that I can almost touch it
For some it might be an insanity
Your kind of insanity, was the one that revealed a vast world of reality to me
Though you may not have known it
Your kind of love gave my heart a new faith
The fabulous intensity of your love ,made me loyal to you in life and death
Until I was able to mend all the broken links of my heart
Our love may have become a distant illusion for your weary mind
For sure , that illusion is the rare wealth between you and I
I am the faerie whose whispers you often try to catch in your long summer days
In all my dark times your bright smile is still my rock
How sweet was your magical aura ,that allured me into a misty world
Thank you for loving my wayward heart and mystic mind
Poem by Ruqia Ismat
Darling, when I miss you as hell
Logic and rationale have lost their spell
The wisdom has left my side and went to hide
My intellect looks timid, then screams for disguise
I yearn for your beloved countenance and ache for your glorious voice
The prudent mind yet mocked at when heart made that odd choice
Your absence, darling shreds my spirit
I see it disintegrating bit by bit
Now I wonder if your recollections can deliver me from this hit?
The agonising moments linger with such a sluggish pace
Don’t I deserve some compassion or grace?
The clock ticks in a sinister and bizarre tone
The world has never been sufficiently known
Life is an enormous and scary game
You, me or nobody else is to blame
For sure, they list me as a lunatic in love
Darling I smile, then embrace all the above
Poem by Ruqia Ismat
Sunday, 7 August, 2022.
Roses have long stories to tell. 🥺🙏🙏🌹🥀🌺🌼🌻🌷🌸💐💮
These lovely softballs reduce the stress about life. The black kitten absolutely hates my touch. But the white one lets me touch him and then observes me closely. At this point black one calls him back ( stupid come back she is not mom ) then the white one protests. And I let him go
They have strict lifeguard policies. They trust me more when their mom is around me and if I pick them up in the presence of their mom, they are quiet. Years of keeping cats made me understand them. Now I can write a book about their behavior. 😄🥰🤩💓👶👶🐈🐈🐈
Watercolor minimalist line art. This one I did last winter.