Rianna Shaikh's Blog, page 16

The joie of 22!

 

                              January 8th, 2022

Dearest rabbits,

I hope your year started well rather than with an

exclamation!I do feel like there is a
grand pause
in anything I shall do this year,
I am trying to recover from
last year. 12 books back to
back Et the
completion of my novel
has knocked me over.
Truthfully, a few other things
has left me winded beyond
my wildest of thinkings. 

When you are born to do many a
things darling world, it shall
happen to you slowly Et most
unexpectedly.
 But like they the wise have said,“where there is a will there shall be a way.”

Hence, I will update my page not as frequent, as I am going to be busy, terribly busy, pausing to listen to sounds of nothing.
Sure this year my riding I shall go, as I fear my fear of saddles ought to be placed back on the shelf.
I said it Et that I shall do.

Meet Wibert wishing Wells,He seems to be a great thinker too!

And this year, I should like to think

staying out of reach as much as possible should help me attain my peaceful joie of doing nothing. Till I am ready again to Print Et trot forward.
Rest is mandatory as I have become a great storyteller in a matter of months. Et Golly it has left me depleted in the creative story telling department.
Still dearest I shall say, Gratitude for it all.
I shall hope for you a year of great happy things.

Et may you too know the joie of existing silently in thewilderness of our existence.I wish me Bonne Chance.

Signing out for a bit.

     Forever,                RS

     Ps. The video to this masterpiece makes me overthink

Dearest rabbits,I hope your year started well rather than...

Dearest rabbits,

I hope your year started well rather than with an

exclamation!I do feel like there is a grand pause
in anything I shall do this year,
I am trying to recover from last year. 12 books back to back Et the
completion of my novel
has knocked me over.
Truthfully, a few other things
has left me winded beyond
my wildest of thinkings. 

When you are born to do many a
things darling world, it shall
happen to you slowly Et most
unexpectedly.
 But like they the wise have said,“where there is a will there shall be a way.”

Hence, I will update my page not as frequent, as I am going to be busy, terribly busy, pausing to listen to sounds of nothing.
Sure this year my riding I shall go, as I fear my fear of saddles ought to be placed back on the shelf.
I said it

And this year, I should like to think

staying out of reach as much as possible should help me attain my peaceful joie of doing nothing. Till I am ready again to Print Et trot forward.
Rest is mandatory as I have become a great storyteller in a matter of months. Et Golly it has left me depleted in the creative story telling department.
Still dearest I shall say, Gratitude for it all.
I shall hope for you a year of great happy things.

Et may you too know the joie of existing silently in thewilderness of our existence.I wish me Bonne Chance.

Signing out for a bit.

     Forever,                RS

2022

Dearest rabbits,

I hope your year started well rather than with an

exclamation!I do feel like there is a grand pause
in anything I shall do this year,
I am trying to recover from last year. 12 books back to back Et the
completion of my novel
has knocked me over.
Truthfully, a few other things
has left me winded beyond
my wildest of thinkings. 

When you are born to do many a
things darling world, it shall
happen to you slowly Et most
unexpectedly.
 But like they the wise have said,“where there is a will there shall be a way.”

Hence, I will update my page not as frequent, as I am going to be busy, terribly busy, pausing to listen to sounds of nothing.
Sure this year my riding I shall go, as I fear my fear of saddles ought to be placed back on the shelf.
I said it

And this year, I should like to think

staying out of reach as much as possible should help me attain my peaceful joie of doing nothing. Till I am ready again to Print Et trot forward.
Rest is mandatory as I have become a great storyteller in a matter of months. Et Golly it has left me depleted in the creative story telling department.
Still dearest I shall say, Gratitude for it all.
I shall hope for you a year of great happy things.

Et may you too know the joie of existing silently in thewilderness of our existence.I wish me Bonne Chance.

Signing out for a bit.

     Forever,                RS

A life to live

   My dearest friends,

I have sort of been of the east of things. As I, well I try to sought through my very own existence. It’s uneasy to feel things that you cannot write off. But I imagine if you sit still alone in the midst of pine trees Et mountains painted near, you could hear the falcon fall near to the very grounds you stomp on.
If you listen.
For every moment thereafter, there is a moment lost. In 2021, I did an exceptional job as a writer. I printed 13 books, but somehow I counted 18. Profound if that’s all I should feel forever.

But since I feel more that one can contain, it’s a good start. I am very hard at myself for reasons.
You know like they say,

“for every troubled adult, there is a rather questioned childhood.”

I sigh. Because at my age Et the level of maturity that I shall limbo to I have been let down in so many ways, by some many people that call themselves blood. Rather daunting you say, not really, life my darlings will break you till it either kills you or makes you. 
Your faith will determine your reach.
Hence 2o22, here we are. I use to think that all of my life’s accumulation would mean I was a success. Today I have found that it’s not what your conceive in your networths but your self value.
Your self love.
Your self.
I am sharing this as i am a year older. And the truth is I have seen so many misfortunes around me that I sit Et question it all. I do this daily, but lately it feels like a brand new day kind of sorts.
I have made many decisions in my life, but the ones ahead will be made out of maturity rather than bitterness and spite.
If you are reading this and I have shut the door on you, it’s not because I loathe you,

More simply because you no longer fit
the growth that which i am headed
towards. A few of you, are simple
stupid,
playing games that quite frankly,
my father hath mastered when
he slept. 
A few of the few, I am sorry for
because life, life has something
called karma, and when she spins
around it’s sort of like musical
chairs, you may loose your chair.
Be left standing. In the cold.

with a mirror at hand. But don’t panic,

what you see, is what you have done.
I hope you forgive you.

Please understand
when you hurt a person, that had
done nothing to hurt you, when it
comes back to you, know that the
hands of time isn’t fair.

oh no, she’s rather worse than the witch from that

forest with a small red apple.
Go on fall of your chairs.

Rather now, I
write when I feel as if the Paper
allows me peace to. If not, there
are just letters. 

    “Happy birthday once
little
rianna
katey Kate Shaikh.
You are one year older
Et a whole lot wiser. It’s why
you can actually write books upon
books.Never let the world take that
from you.”

            Forever a writer,   Rianna Kate Shaikh  

 

Ps. My favorite Song at 20.

The December hurrah

    Ps. Just like Alice, except she had more time to gallop abouts        Dearest,

I feel like I fall terribly short when it comes to writing lately. I feel as if everything I write are read under a microscope, as my existence. Being so very commonly published you’d think I would be better off printing books Et hiding in a bloody cave. Golly.
My truth people is simple, I am just not that into jaunting the world making my existence public, so I could be famed.

Not my cup of milk.

It’s sad because the very little I have in the world to be read, isn’t what my books are like anymore Et also it’s all privately published.

Which I have made my portfolio because, well because I can simply Do so. I have very little luxuries in life, this is one. Well that sounds quite awful but it’s the truth. I have zero privacy being Rianna Shaikh,

or whatever the world sees me as.
It’s really annoying to me, can you tell?I think it’s why I no longer write on my dearest diary as I did.Nor do I jaunt around the globe posting it on the web. Ah hallo, not me. For so many reasons. But if you are that person, I admire your bravery Et your happy. It’s simply not me.I should be like the hermit that write books Et sat in her corner, watching the days fall into night Et the night escape the wandering Et careless hands of time. I sigh.

I think to a lot of my readers, the art of becoming is one turbulent chapter. Because you ought to know, when you write, it should be a story being carved on paper. It’s not about becoming the bestseller, a lot of bestsellers put me to bed. I swear. It must be wonderful when your best friends daddy owns Simon or knows a penquin non?
I feel like the rest of the world, waiting for the right moment to make my many books public. I am also very stubborn, meaning, I want my works as they are, I will not be another number. I fear that my stubbornness is my gift. I shan’t budge. I am not desperate to be paid to sell my books to lions.
Yah?
Also I should never believe in mediocre. And also the biggest of my problem, according to my husband, I am way toooooooo private now. I know it’s like I tell him let’s play golf in the country club Et he looks at me Et says,

“there are bugs out there, and mosquitoes Et you don’t like stepping on grass.”Gee I sound really like a masterpiece but guess what dearest, I am that. I am so that. So looks like my husband would need to open up his own publishing company Et print the most expensive Childrens book EvER to be made. Because that’s my new job, bringing the world to children.
I fear….

My books will be too expensive for anyone to print, but I made a decision, my books and I, well we sort of of want to stick to our standards, sorry world, not budging. Imagine this, you bring a book to storytime Et you read it, Et then the children fall asleep, yawns then no pictures, then oh hold on,

it’s just simply to much for a lot of children to imagine. There are a lot of children today that cannot walk, talk, be simply like the rest, and then they ought to believe in the fantasy of this world?

So my job isn’t helping Tommy or Jacky to imagine. It’s to bring to them that which they have not seen. My books are like encyclopedias, With pictures and color. Truth is my little guy adores them, Et let me whisper something to you world,

He has cerebral palsy. And when he smiles and laughs, I know I’m doing my job as a writer. I know i am in the right place. I am the best mummy dearest to him. With books at hand Et and adventures I had not yet seen.

Oui?

So i will not be Jane G or dr Seuss. Though I like the cat in the hat, I’m just a different  bird in the flock. And personally, my standards are alarming.

I frown.

On the good side of this matter,
I am personally signed for 6 books.
In private publication.in 2022.Which of course I should share,
by the graces of god.I know I often say that
Et people look at me in
astonishment like I couldn’t
believe in such. I am catholic 🧐Henceforth, my second cover to the blanc rabbit 2, is in, and it feels archaic. I love archaic, you know this. Well I must go Et fetch myself a routine. As always.
I hope my dearest world your new year resolution is one that you successfully achieve. But what I wish for you is happy. Because happy is a rare glimpse of the rainbow after the storm. And also happy is for everyone. Little big, all colors Et all people en all steps of life.
You ought to be happy, hey it’s free J’adore you.still your complicated writer, 

Rianna K Shaikh (y’all)
Western accent

December publication

My dearest world,I did it. Our 12th private publication. In 12 months.

And I must confess there was so more behind the scenes of this year. To my silent helpers, I thank you.

To all of the other conflicting parts, I thank you most, because I think this year my heart felt so much that kept me moving along. Oui, before I set foot on this publication, I have to answer the most asked question from my readers,

“You seem broken daily, but your life looks Perfect, what could possibly break you?”Well for starters as a child the most important of Many lessons were taught to me, in its own manner. Never judge a book by its cover.

Though it flatters me when people judge me so well. Because I can make pain beautiful. My greatest skill really. Hence, my pain has a lot to do with fact that I was born with a Mont Blanc in my right hand.

Writing is my way of existing. In case you ever wonder about such.So here we are December, I sit looking at my desk, and I can’t barely open one book, because I fear to you though they are but books to you, to me they are pieces of my existence. Past Et present. Though you are yet to see them in their glory, I know that the time isn’t yet ripened.It does something to me to write, to feel, to be one with the existence of lost tales. That’s what they are, they find their way to me Et I simply, I simply accept it. Though I be most honored, you can see I have little tolerance for any humanly encounter.
Weirdly true.

Probably a great disorder.

So if you are out there Et someone told you I did something, I beg you to reconsider, for I have zero time for anything but what I do. And what I have done dearest you, are in my books.You are most welcome.

My last publication of this year, as you can see my hard work paid off,

the blanc Rabbbit, Deux. The second book.I wanted to end the year with a book that brings the great big world of the forest Et it’s creatures to someone little that holds my heart. That’s why I chose this book. My darling boy, oh he adored this book. So much. And you guessed, I’d do anything for his smile. His laughter.In my life, there are only a few people I feel this way about. And world if you can read me, when you have this kind of love, you protect it.Oui,like Mr rabbit protected his forest, we call it, la forêt profonde. The deep forest.You could say, I am finally becoming a Children’s writer. Merci my little boy. I love you my baby.Well  I must go, apparently my husband thinks he can temp me with eating croissants et sipping  latte like I were, well like I did years ago.  Little does he know, I have not eaten flour in 10 years. Oh save moi happy holidays my dearest,RSps. my husband bought me lots of orange boxes this year. Et I think I should of at least packed them away. Non?
don’t have time rabbits. Got to be Santa Claus this year I know, he gets all the credit Et I well…Unedited shaikh desk Et you so know it… au revoir!
Pss. Monsieur Louis at its finest, but hey it was business

Helicopter over the blue seas

 

darling you,        It was early in the day. When I looked far above the lands to the sky. I wasn’t thinking anything. All I knew was, they all came to see her. In her daily glory.Which was something to behold. She was youthful in her thinking. Her face glowed like it were kissed by van Cleef. She reminded me of Elizabeth Taylor. Wasn’t she to pretty?Her eyes were a piece of stolen  ocean, not the kinds you see around here, but the kinds, if you ever flew over the carribean seas on a small helicopter, from way up into the blue skies, you look down et you see that one circle in blue, did you?

You haven’t lived unless you took a little plane up into the big skies. Only to see the hidden islands that most can dream of threading.

…but her beauty drew him to her.
She smiled, knowing that
he was driven on all sides
of the compass, only to be
beside her. Her frail heart.Her unexcited mind Et her
raging lust. Her lust for
wanting to life. To life not live.

Sometimes we get love
from the most unexpected of
sail winds. It’s like that
helicopter over the great
seas, colors of oceans melding
together.

You breath, you exhale,
you wish that somehow
all that you had,
could be enough. 

 Like her Et him.but you know, you do… it never is.
But all you got is that one moment in the sky, with another. And that ought to sometimes  be enough.
Like the blue skies over the Caribbean sea.The way Enya sung it.        Up late, of course I’m thinking,   RS

The youth of your discord

       Circa 2017  My dearest,I hate to think of things to say, whether it be a book, or my diary  or dusty letters from the attic of my heart.
I feel like this last while I couldn’t possibly pen anything,  anything.
I felt normal.
Which for me isn’t a luxury.I feel more than the human heart of a girl, sullen in the floors of her life. In tears not knowing how was she so little yet so desperately broken up to one thousand slivers.   In life we are all born for a journey. Again, we are all birth for a specific path. Some of us are in it, some are loathing every moment of it, a few are contentious in their own Et many are living as the clouds scurry on by, as the clocks decide the day Et the sky, night.
We exist. We wait. We remain friendly to our inner discord but if we look deeper, we could possibly see that this moment in our life is about growth.
When I was a teenager, I never understood discontent very well. Actually it was all I had. No matter what opulence in this life I was given, myself Et I, well we weren’t a glisten of happy.
I suppose you could say my pen was already in my hands,  just couldn’t grasp it well enough.A flaw of being in your young youthfulness.I know, imagine that. But the most funniest thing happened to me, motherhood. I think now looking at my very children grow Et feel Et think Et most importantly speak their opinions, I smile, because in life what you have has little do to with the growth of your existence.I figured that out, today, of all bossy days, 13 books this year later, I swear to you. Getting older means feeling more. But you ought to try to be productive with that immense new feelings.
Or  you shall drift into a sadness that no one can save you from. In fact come closer I shall let you in on a secret thought ….you could even drown with ONE TEAR drop.yup, welcome to maturity darlings. I hope you are well. I honestly go through phases in life where I feel like I close the door Et I sit Et gather myself then, I slowly open it.
It happens when you are a great thinker of sorts.Good talk. Sipping tea. Thinking of where on earth my  phone has gone.

I don’t know whom I am to scream,

Alexa, Siri or the husband.

yours,RS

Where is your heart?

 

 She likes to sit alone, she pleads to be alone.
She wonders about the day in the sky Et how Et why the night has drifted without goodbye.
She thinks that life is what not you dream of,rather that of deceit Et despise.
She is no longer with hope, nor does she mope.she thinks you are all fools, searching for her to loose her Witts Et sensibilities.
she fears you not. 
she cares you never.
Your racing tactics Et foolish jaunts.

dearest, dearest you must run along.

For in time you shall see, you won’t find her. 
none.power oh power, spare her the fables….Go back to your stables. Working on poems, because
by the looks of it, 2022 shall
be a very hidden agenda. 

yours,RS

 

The face of grief

 

Dearest you,Its like a visitor that comes
in unwelcomed. A wind of unhappy
that uproots your greenery, a
cloud that hovers Et leads you
to insanity. 

A pain most of hearts cannot recover.

A stolen sunrise Et a dark ever after. 
The face of grief stays forever. 
The maze of peace, lingers together.For in this life pain is common,
laughter stolen Et happy never. 
For it is here, here together,
pain Et rains, they go together. 

My dearest  world, waking up to this masterpiece of darkness. The heart of a writer finds content in all stages of life. Especially the darkened sky.Yours,RS