captainfatimahabiba

www.instagram.com/fatima_captain

if you stop chasing the bad things, good ones may get a chance to catch you❤

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  • captainfatimahabiba 3d

    #art


    NATSUKASHII- is a Japanese word used when something evokes a fond memory from your past. ... But natsukashii – which derives from the verb “natsuku”, which means “to keep close and become fond of” – indicates joy and gratitude for the past rather than a desire to return to it.
    ■■■□□□■■■


    I've been a die hard fan of these lines:

    “Everyone has a happy ending, if you're not happy, it's not the end.” ----The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel.

    I feel not guilty of admitting myself an #escapist. I don't like tragedies, conspiracies, seriously evil plots and above all, the sad endings. I still prefer watching cartoons that suck my stress honestly.
    》it's quite hard nominating my favorite cartoon show, I like not all but many��

    #Cartoons have been the best form of art for me If I refuse to give a fabricated reply to today's prompt by @miraquill .

    Read More

    N A T S U K A S H I I

    For two decades and a half,
    Tree of my life has been up growing,
    shedding a leaf every year

    No matter the taller, the top is getting,
    It is yenning to meet the roots once more,
    to rejoice the beginning

    For up above here,
    The good not stays for good
    Where sadness sometimes wins the ending
    And happy ending seems, a myth of childhood

    Ours, was the world of cartoons
    Swords swirled, but no bloodshed
    Funny battles fought over piece of bread
    Prince and wench could happily wed

    Now with the change in world,
    Words in our dictionaries also changed
    Novels fulfilling the promised novelty
    Tragedies in demand, to get entertained

    No U turn in route of life
    But I am not despair
    If not mine, I can share theirs
    Kids who're sparkling with same glare
    ©captainfatimahabiba

  • captainfatimahabiba 4d

    #quiet @writersnetwork

    》》all allusions credit to the rightful source.

    #HESYKHIA (#Hesychia) ____was the personified Greek spirit (daimona) of quiet, rest, silence and stillness. She was a daughter of Dike (Lady Justice). Her Roman equivalents were Quies (Quiet) and Silentia (Silence).

    #Abrahan_Lincoln defined #democracy as : Government of the people, for the people, by the people.

    》》LUNACY IN FANCY 《《

    Once in a month, week or day
    Turns my smile in utter dismay
    Among the crowd, self is alone
    Happens this for the reason unknown
    Discussions with dad carry on
    Evening tea is taken in lawn
    Siblings perform the daily fight
    Until sees mom with glare of fright
    Sun keeps to rise and set in west
    Day consumes in making better, best
    Night too approaches on its turn
    Lunacy in lunar light, more I earn
    Vision leaves mind, eyes deny to see
    There's someone in my head but it's not me
    Not in harmony with whom I think I am
    It exerts a power to make me feel damn
    Brings me into a state, sympathetic
    None can empathize, it's pathetic
    Finding no rescue, anywhere outside
    Finally I return to this enemy inside
    Who is whatever but needs not words
    To listen to my anxiety like this world
    The words I guess it never seeks
    Not only to hear but also to speak
    Thus I vent my anguish loud & clear
    Since it's dumb, secrets too I share
    Eventually it makes me feel like master
    Whose servant only knows to say, yes sir
    So the inside storm remains inside
    Once again I sprout to flourish outside
    © captainfatimahabiba

    Read More

    Silence is the song of Hesychia

    When every being preaches
    everything but sympathy
    Every art when fails to practice
    the empathy
    Quietude seems to be the best
    attitude
    Staying quiet is but shouting on
    the shore of solitude
    Silence is a speech of the self,
    for the self, by the self

    ||Sing the silence to lullaby the
    unrest||

    ©captainfatimahabiba

  • captainfatimahabiba 5d

    #rhyme @miraquill @writersnetwork


    My specs get stained with rain
    It is but who hijacks vision to vain
    Wet in it, my friend called it insane
    He asked me, what is it to you?
    I replied, "countless tears to hide my few".

    ©captainfatimahabiba

    Read More

    My specs get stained with rain
    It is but who hijacks vision to vain
    Wet in it, my friend called it insane
    He asked me, what is it to you?
    I replied, "countless tears to hide my few".
    ©captainfatimahabiba

  • captainfatimahabiba 1w

    Notice

    My feed is lacking in showing me the posts of those I follow....and indeed same posts are being repeatedly shown since morning......so that's why might be missing for few days.....may it get fixed soon

  • captainfatimahabiba 1w

    #breakfast

    Thanks @miraquill n @writersnetwork for EC!!


    Having breathed with rose and
    lilies
    Back from the morning walk, I
    enter my abode
    An ambrosial aroma amidst the
    smouldering stove
    Invokes Polyhymnia, sleeping in
    the corners of mind
    Taste weighs more, when measured
    on the scale of motherhood
    Even the French omelette sometimes,
    serves with layers of love
    Fruity smell of juice coupled with the
    floral supplements,
    Stirr the stagnant lake of elixir of
    creativity
    I can see the poetic devices sprinkling
    with salt and pepper
    Landing on the plate to devise the plot
    for that day's piece
    Inhaling the flavors of breakfast,
    breaks the fast of my quill, that
    it observes throughout night
    ©captainfatimahabiba

    Read More

    Inhaling the flavors of breakfast,
    breaks the fast of my quill, that
    it observes throughout night
    ©captainfatimahabiba

  • captainfatimahabiba 1w

    #routine @miraquill @writersnetwork

    Not in a mood though.....

    No day ends without war with my mega & micro versions; my #sisters . Love you ����

    Read More

    Ears get tickled with mama's call
    Waiting for either side to respond,
    I, the middle one, is left to go
    Swirling downstairs in hurry,
    Sometimes hurting toe
    I find no place to hit my head
    When mama only needs to know
    What date or day it is.....
    The kitchen kingdom welcomes me
    So the princess prepares her porridge
    Something more gets cooked too
    The moment it's presented on the table
    Two witches land down the stairs
    Logics get locked, my reasons are
    imprisoned
    Privilege for the elder & the younger,
    pampered
    Dwarfed condolence from baba arrives
    Thus I somehow manage to survive
    Unplanned chores get extensive execution
    The planned ones though remain aside
    Watching me struggling with the keypad open
    Minding not me even a bad writer,
    Either of sisters speaks in siren
    Until mama stares to sue my screen licence
    Dinner is done and parents go asleep
    We three musketeers for our room leave
    Having shared the secrets the day generated
    A fight begins to share not the blanket
    Waiting not to see the winner, I close my eyes
    Since I lay in middle, I would get it anyway
    ©captainfatimahabiba

  • captainfatimahabiba 1w

    #mirage_poetry_contest
    @lovenotes_from_carolyn

    @john_solomon , to you Jack................................................................................!.

    Read More

    CELEBRATION

    Lost in posts and phone
    Except to whom it concerns
    Happy Mother's Day

    >>>>○○○<<<<

    HOLLOW MEN

    Cheering victory
    Defeated fourth stage cancer
    Car hits fatally


    ©captainfatimahabiba

  • captainfatimahabiba 1w

    #journal @miraquill @writersnetwork


    It's around 25 times by now since 9-11-1996 that I've experienced the frosted dew of December, that I've seen the blooms of April, that I've tried to squeeze the long days of blazing June with the tang of mangoes and that I've stimulated my auditory canal by walking on the crumbled dry amber leaves of October.

    Throughout this life so far, I have been developed and devastated periodically and with a certain clicks of transformation, by now I stand with multitude of emotions and points of view.
    Many came, much happened a lot I did to consume myself that owes almost an equivalent proportion of good, bad and average. But somewhere something remained constant with variable someones that the introduction to whom, made me sit on the chair of
    C
    Y ( a person who is centre of
    N
    O attention or talk).
    S
    U
    R
    E , and the imagination bee created a massive comb in heart that dripped the drops of expectations but which has never lasted for so long and the reality hunted and chopped it down causing,
    G
    H
    (Sudden end of O
    contact with S
    someone without T
    any explanation)' I
    N
    G. But it's not the end since every ending is a new beginning and so is continued here. Though this breathing monument of 5.4 ft has reached its final size and the construction is over but yet not the process of renovation!

    Life generated various regrets but time unfolded me the disguised blessings. Like I opted medical (science of body) but after four years of robotic input, I finally realized my #mistake and switched to literature (science of soul).

    Various entities like family, friends and fellows kept on switching the ears to my voice and my gratitude still accompanies them like a ghost never mind yet it seems that I almost remained wrong in making the right choices until I met my PEN that by listening to me, itself becomes my voice thus truly becoming my
    T
    R (A trusty, honest
    U
    E fellow).
    P
    E
    N
    N
    Y.

    ■□■// My pen is actually another me who records my state to preserve myself.// ■□■

    It made me a warrior in the army where pen fights, defends and attacks instead of the sword. It made me an inhabitant of a galaxy of writers that emit the radiating light of
    M
    E (to do something with soul,
    R creativity or love, to put
    A yourself in it).
    K
    I.

    Meanwhile I am making #mistakes while what to support and what to condemn but my love for pen is holding me to stay on third road.

    And perhaps I am making another #mistake right now saying all this. But may it be not a long lasting regret. So far whatever I considered mega mistakes of my life that I regretted for, later on stood me grateful for the very things.

    ■ □■// Inside me, there is situated a colossal museum with the memories hung on its walls that echo whatever has been mine once, the laughters, the sobs, the applause, the condolences and the still continued expectations, plans and dreams. //■□■

    © captainfatimahabiba

    (updated my old and #mistaken piece)

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    My PEN, my TRUEPENNY

    Life, we try to cage in words
    Like the poets drip in rhymes
    It's secrecy but flies like birds
    Staying a mystery over times


    // When true nectar one begins to get
    River of life meets bank of death
    With everything yet nothing to show
    WHEN WE'VE LEARNED, WE ALL HAVE TO GO //

    © captainfatimahabiba

  • captainfatimahabiba 1w

    We are in the ocean of love
    Sailing on the Titanic of claims
    That you claim unsinkable
    Trumpets are playing ominous tunes
    Dancers flickering on haunting ditties
    Amidst the whispers of some prophecies
    For the sylphs are warning a crack
    A tiny iceberg of misunderstanding
    Waits impatiently to shatter your pride
    by drowning the ashes of claims
    beneath the floating blames
    ©captainfatimahabiba

  • captainfatimahabiba 1w

    #like @miraquill @writersnetwork #ceesreposts


    A tree of trust you planted in
    the compound of my heart
    Until it zenith, since it bloomed
    from start
    You visited it every morning to
    nurture
    Left no ground unplayed, for its
    horticulture
    When it reached its shadowy
    height,
    You sat under its shade in the
    evening sights
    Enchanting hymns in the name
    of holy love
    Singing sonnets and oaths that
    hanged on leaves above
    No more a tree, but it evolved
    into a shrine
    Where I glued myself, worshipping
    the love, divine
    It's canonizing me a saint, who preaches
    faith but practices doubts
    Since it lost the homage, by a pilgrim,
    stout
    I wept to water its roots, so it could
    influence again
    But it was turned to stones, thus the
    corrosion began
    Withered trunk stands alight and hopes
    for phoenix decay
    Sighs shed the foliage of promises,
    like falling leaves on windy day
    ©captainfatimahabiba

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    Withered trunk stands alight and hopes
    for phoenix decay
    Sighs shed the foliage of promises,
    like falling leaves on windy day
    ©captainfatimahabiba