Memory woven

The Icarus Quandary 
All my life, I play hard, write poetry with passion, love deeply. Since I was a young child, I was with a book - always. I could trace the passage of time through books I read at home, in school, while I waited for life to embrace me. I wanted to be three things – a writer, a writer, a writer at all cost

Words - a trailblazer
Going out on a limb
Flying high

For a while then, I forgot my dream. In the quest for the ordinary life, I forgot my burning desire to write, the poet and writer buried deep within a place dreams did not visit, hopes did not sing

Lost, I fell
From paradise at the tip
Of a pen

Then sparkling moments, the birth of my firstborn, finding my muse - the love of my life, me – embracing life as never before, moment upon moment leading me to this point in time

Awaken!
The writer within
Grasp your destiny

In the blanket of the bluest of nights, despair engulfs me, I know within me lies a poet of fierce nationalistic pride. Yet my country lies sleeping, unaware of the beauty of our land, our history, our people, our legends, our forest and skies. Sees only glimmering towers, eco-tours and jungle treks without understanding the turtle’s song of regret upon the waves of the ocean or the story of Onangkiu of  Gelanggui.

Tears like
Pearls escaping from
The broken necklace

I press on… for in this quest, my children’s children will continue the dream of the pomegranate – a story within each translucent seed of awareness.



Words by ninotazizCopyright 2010 © ninotaziz.
All rights reserved. _________________________________________________ 

Today, Victoria over at dVerse prompts us to look at our memories for inspiration. Here, I feature an old poem but one that I feel so strongly reflects my recollection of my life (for which I thank God for daily). And poems which recap my childhood memories too! As a writer, I often felt that  my own memories overlap with those of my ancestors. This could be due to the fact that in our family, we talk about events one hundred years ago as if they just happened yesterday. My name is ninotaziz daughter of Abang Tik, daugher of Chu Rahmah daughter of Yang Chik daughter of Bebunga, storytellers of old. And Zalina, daughter of Abdul Aziz, son of Tok Muda Salehuddin, son of Tok Awang Pekan, son of Tok Nik, son of Tok Tunggal, son of Tok Ghafur, son of Tok Haji, son of Tok Sabur, ancient warriors all.  Here are some of my  memory woven poems, written throughout my life : Ancient Storytellers   Childhood   The Island The booklover   Van Gogh Snow   New York   Yumiko The Cat and The Fiddle     The Eternal Fountain