The Pakistan Fashion Design Council in collaboration with Sunsilk presented the fourth and final day of the eighth PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week. Indeed the 8th PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week marked the twelfth fashion week platform initiated by the Pakistan Fashion Design Council [with eight weeks of prêt-à-porter and four of bridal fashion] and was a direct manifestation of the Council’s commitment to sustainability and discipline within the business of fashion and the facilitation of Pakistan’s retail industry. Indeed #PSFW15 endeavoured to define and present trends for 2015, focusing specifically on fashion for the regions’ long hot summer months. Day-4 featured High-Street Fashion shows by the House of Arsalan Iqbal, Erum Khan, Chinyere and Hassan Riaz and designer prêt-à-porter shows by Sana Safinaz, Republic by Omar Farooq, Syeda Amera, Huma & Amir Adnan, Sania Maskatiya and HSY.

Speaking about the PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week platform, Chairperson of the PFDC, Sehyr Saigol said: “With the 12th iteration of our critically acclaimed fashion weeks, the PFDC is always working to streamline our prêt-à-porter platform to make the PSFW experience more beneficial for all stakeholders in terms of show experience, exposure and ultimately, retail value. To that end, each year we look inward to find the best possible formats and categories to benefit the very trade and business of fashion. In this vein, we introduced 3 separate categories for Luxury/Prêt, High Street and Textile at PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week, giving each entirely separate show space, times, audience exposure and viewing power. Our High Street fashion brands had been given a standalone show time on two separate days as early evening shows and Textile brands a separate dedicated day for Voile shows on Day 3 of PSFW 2015, a measured step to further highlight Pakistan’s textile prowess and high street fashion strength which are of significant importance to national and international fashion markets. As per past tradition, we continue to work closely with all our emerging designers and mainstream brands to help hone their collections for the runway through mentorship by senior PFDC Council members and with retail support through the PFDC’s own stores and network. We are grateful for the committed support of our sponsors and partners which provides us the stimulus to further enhance our fashion week platforms and put forth the best face of Pakistani fashion on a consistent basis.”

“The Sunsilk girl is an achiever, with an air of enthusiasm and positivity. Great hair can give her the extra dose of confidence so with Sunsilk by her side, she is empowered to take on life. Fashion is very close to this aspirational Pakistani girl making the PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week a highly valued platform for us. We recognize PFDC’s efforts to promote the fashion industry and experienced and upcoming talent alike. Sunsilk has been a part of this fantastic journey for 6 consecutive years and continues to shape aspirations, taking contemporary fashion directly to the homes of consumers and encouraging them to script their own stories of success” said Asanga Ranasinghe, VP Home and Personal Care for Unilever Pakistan.

On the concluding day of #PSFW15, the Chairperson of the PFDC Mrs. Sehyr Saigol also made a special announcement on behalf of the Council and its Board Members, where she shared the Council’s plans to establish Pakistan’s first ever craft based Design District, a multi-purpose specialized facility that would assist in developing and enhancing the arts and crafts industries, which are an integral part of Pakistan’s rich cultural legacy. In addition to being a centre for skill improvement and capacity building, the Design District would also house a first of its kind Textile Museum.

The official spokesperson of the PFDC, Sara Shahid of Sublime by Sara also announced the official dates for the Council’s next fashion week, PFDC L’Oréal Paris Bridal Week 2015 which is scheduled to be held from 15th September to 17th September 2015.

Indeed the success of PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week continued to prompt private sector associates to grow in their engagement of the platform to launch new marketing campaigns and promotional activities. To this end, the PFDC’s evolving partnership with Sunsilk grew exponentially this year whereby in addition to their title patronage; Sunsilk also took over the coveted PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week red carpet and the Green Room/Backstage, as sponsors. This extension of their support is indeed a manifestation of the brand’s belief in and commitment to the platform. Also in continuation of their support for the platform, Fed Ex – GSP Pakistan Gerry’s International returned to PSFW as the official logistics partner, offering the PFDC a special arrangement for international designer consignments.

PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week 2015 was styled by the creative teams at Nabila’s and NGENTS. Light design, set design, sound engineering, video packaging, choreography and show production from concept to construction was by HSY Events, front stage management by Maheen Kardar Ali, backstage management by Product 021, Sara Shahid of Sublime by Sara as the official spokesperson for the PFDC, logistics and operations by Eleventh Experience and photography by Faisal Farooqui and the team at Dragonfly, Hum TV/Hum Sitaray as the Official Media Partners, CityFM89 as the Official Radio Partners with all media management by Lotus Client Management & Public Relations.

High-Street Fashion Shows

The House of Arsalan Iqbal

The afternoon High-Street Fashion Shows on the final day of PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week 2015 were opened by leading fashion brand The House of Arsalan Iqbal, who showcased a collection titled ‘Devolution Chic’. Inspired by street art across the world by various artists, European high-street trends and technique of quilting, Arsalan Iqbal garnered personal portfolios of graffitists from myriad urban cityscapes such as London, New York, Tokyo, Barcelona and Cape Town, juxtaposed with some unique in-house created patterns including those of Pac-man, calligraphic flourishes and aqua and tangerine bands and circlets. Based in chiffon, the ensembles were molded into voluminous structured silhouettes including draped tunics, edgy jumpsuits and wide palazzos dovetailed with off-white and ecru charmeuse silk jackets created with a revolutionary quilting process. Along with menswear pieces, the collection also included in-house footwear and jewellery made in collaboration with pioneering Karachi-based street artist SANKI.

Erum Khan

Designer Erum Khan followed next and made her PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week debut with ‘The Untainted Shine’. The collection took its inspiration from the sparkle of twinkling stars, a walk on pearl dew in the morning and the enchanted glow which is produced when “a magic wand” is waved around the body, making it glow in a pearlescent white and exhibiting a jewel themed lustre on the body. With neat and straight structured cuts, Erum had used fabrics such as organza combined with silk, 3D flowers, patch work and antique katdanna in a collection which was based in a white colour palette. Trends highlighted in the collection were high waist skirts to button up pants and sheer long dresses. Acclaimed Pakistani musician Goher Mumtaz and his wife Anam Ahmed walked the ramp as the designer’s celebrity showstoppers.

Chinyere

Following Erum Khan, fashion brand Chinyere showcased its Spring/Summer 2015 High-Street collection ‘Mizaj-e-Shahana’ at PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week 2015. An ode to the era of the Mughal royalty and their imperial aesthetic, the collection comprised of modern silhouettes and traditional embellishments with organza skirts paired with cropped tops, angarkha-peplum tops with embellished cigarette pants, sheer knee-length jackets paired with structured digital printed bustier-jumpsuits, diaphanous wrap-around boot-cuts and embellished boxy sleeves with soft A-line silhouettes. Chinyere also showcased ten menswear pieces comprising of waistcoats, jodhpurs, knee-length sherwanis paired with gossamer sheer kurtas. The colours used had been divided into a collection of distinctive Mughalesque pastels and jewel tones. The pastels included the classic marble ivory-on-ivory, the bold black, saffron, gold and ivory. The colour segments also included metallic gold and grey sections, with accents of bronze and black. The jewel tones included jade, emerald, ruby and sapphire.

Hassan Riaz

The concluding High-Street fashion show of PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week 2015 was presented by Hassan Riaz who showcased his ‘Contained Shadows’ collection. Inspired by the diverse facets of the human soul that explore both the dark and light sides of human nature, taking into account yearnings, desires, and anxieties that make us distinctly human, Hassan had based the collection in summer twill, organza and summer denim in shades of blue and white with a gold accent to reflect upon his inspirations. ‘Contained Shadows’ made use of structured and drifting silhouettes, cage crinolines with corsets and bustiers with distinct trends featuring cropped tops, nautical accents, experiments with transparency and patchworks of metal mixed & matched with flowers.

Designer Showcases

Sana Safinaz

PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week 2015’s evening [rêt shows on the fourth and final day was opened by premier designer label Sana Safinaz. Sana Safinaz’s PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week collection was inspired by monochromatic structured looks with pops of color. The collection was based in luxe fabrics such as kattan, silks, fine silk organza and dutches satin in a colour palette majorly based in black and white with strong vibrant pop infusions.
Key trends being highlighted were the oversized T, constructions-clean lines, simplicity of cuts and effective embellishments.

Republic by Omar Farooq

Following Sana Safinaz, acclaimed menswear brand Republic By Omar Farooqshowcased a collection titled ‘Que Sera, Sera!’ (whatever will be, will be!). Omar Farooq had used a variety of luxe fabrics such as suede, linen, chiffon, cotton, cotton silk and wool silk. A collection for all seasons, the ensembles built upon the label’s signature aesthetics while providing a new take on contemporary menswear. Acclaimed media personality Fawad Khan walked the ramp as the brand’s celebrity showstopper.

Syeda Amera

The third Prêt show of the final day of PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week 2015 was presented by designer Syeda Amera who made her ramp debut with ‘The World of Sea’. Inspired by love for the enchanting underwater, the collection was based in premium quality organza, jersey, nets and silks with delicate cuts and embellishments consisting of beads, sequins and feathers to reflect the collection’s aquatic theme. ‘The World of Sea’ featured a palette of aqua marine, scupa blue, powder pink, grey blue, tequila sunrise yellow, orange and lagoon green with trends that employed skirt layering, frills and ruffles and flared pants.

Huma & Amir Adnan

Following Syeda Amera, Huma & Amir Adnan showcased a joint collection for the first time at a fashion exhibition. Both Huma and Amir feel that as a couple they share their lives and draw synergies and their collection ‘Symphony’ was an epitome of how two people can revolve around the same concept in harmony, while maintaining their individual distinction. Showcasing both menswear and women’s wear at PSFW 2015, Huma and Amir had used a mix of fabrics, textures and embellishments with a complex collection of weaves, prints and embroideries in silk, linen, cotton and microfiber. The color palette included midnight blue, emerald green, wet earth, aubergine, ivory, old paper, turmeric, leaf and magenta. Key trends highlighted in the collection were long shirts, double layered shirts, printed vests and jackets, textured pants, colored shoes for men and layers of multi-textured fabrics, tighter silhouette, vests and jackets for women.

Sania Maskatiya

Designer Sania Maskatiya showcased the penultimate Luxury/Prêt collection of the evening at PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week 2015. This S/S ’15, Sania Maskatiya took audiences on a fashion journey to ‘Paristan’ – a place of fairytale whimsy at PFDC Sunsilk Fashion Week. With a colour palette ranging from the softest shades of daybreak to the deepest hues of nightfall, ‘Paristan’ was a collection of playful, dreamlike prêt ensembles. Featuring luxury fabrics like silk, organza, charmeuse and crepe, the pieces followed the brand’s signature silhouettes, both structured and fluid. Beads and sequins embellished varied hemlines and multiple layering, all set against captivating scenes of mirth and magic. Motifs ranged from the sublime to nonsensical; friendly mice and naughty elves, clocks and teapots, flowering fields and star-filled skies, princesses and ponies.

HSY

Day-4’s finale was presented by acclaimed couturier HSY who showcased a collection titled ‘INK’; a collection inspired by Asia and specifically HSY’s journeys to The Land of the Rising Sun. INK represented the essence of Langkawi, Indonesia, Nagasaki, and Yunnan with natural and indigenous yarns, hand-woven to perfection. The collection featured the traditional dyeing techniques of Shibori from Nagasaki, Batik from Indonesia, and Gara from Sierra Leone infused with mackintosh, saffron, aubergine, eggshell, rosette, indigo and ochre. Created with the scorching sub continental summer in mind, INK channelled versatile hemlines to suit a diversity of younger, older, working men, women and homemakers alike.Read more here:www.marieaustralia.com/long-formal-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-brisbane

Paris has traditionally been the city where inter­national designers – from Australia and England to Beirut and Japan – opt to unveil their collections. However, Karen Ruimy, who is behind the Kalmar label, chose the runways of Milan Fashion Week for her debut showcase in September.

The Morocco-born, London- based designer hosted an intimate al fresco event in a private palazzo to launch her holiday line of fine cotton and silk jumpsuits, breezy kaftans, long skirts, playsuits and off-the-shoulder tops in tropical prints.

Ruimy had a career in finance before moving into the arts – she owns a museum of photography in Marrakech – and has become increasingly involved in fashion and beauty, thanks to her personal interest in holistic therapies.

These are clothes, she explains, that marry luxury and wellness, and are the things she would wear when she wants quality time by herself. The fact that they are made in Italy, convinced her that Milan was the right place for her debut – where she showed alongside the likes of Gucci, Prada, Verscae and Marni.

On fashion calendars, Milan has conventionally been the place where the runways confirm the trends and themes hinted at ­earlier, in New York and London. However, this season, the Italian designers did not speak with one voice, making Milan Fashion Week all the more refreshing for it.

Often, there might be an era or style of design that dominates the runways during a particular season, but for spring/summer 2017 in Milan, there was a standout showing of techno sportswear and techno fabrics employed in updated classics such as coats and box-pleat skirts, or with references to north African and Native American themes.

The Italian designers sent looks that would appeal to everyone, from the haute bohemian and athletic woman, to the cool sophisticate and the art crowd, as well as – as in the case of Moschino – to the iPhone generation.

Only three seasons ago, Gucci’s creative director Alessandro Michele was lauded for his complicated maximalist styling. Yet in Milan, Gucci channelled a dreamlike vibe with Victoriana, denim, athletic apparel and oversized accessories, thrown together in delightful chaos, making it difficult to predict the direction Michele is taking Gucci in.

Currently he seems to be in a holding pattern, hovering at once over 1940s Hollywood glamour, 1970s flared pantsuits, and ruffled party dresses from the 1980s, in a cacophony of ­colours and fabrics.

The feeling of joyous madness continued at Dolce & Gabbana, where street dancers emerged from the audience to start the party in the designers’ tropical-themed show. The clothes used some of their familiar tropes, such as military jackets, corseted black-lace dresses miniskirts. New, however, were the baggy tapering trousers redolent of jodhpurs, and the lavish and detailed embellishment the designers used to sell their story.

Wanderlust dominated the moodboards at Roberto Cavalli – rich patterns, embroidery and patchworks inspired by Native Americans – and Etro with its ­tribal themes on kaftans, duster coats and Berber-style capes.

Giorgio Armani, Agnona Tod’s, Bottega Veneta and Salvatore Ferragamo – with its stylish twisted leather dresses and crisp athletic sportswear designed by newcomer Fulvio Rigoni – all answered the call of women who want stylish but undemanding clothes.

Marni would appeal to the art world for its graceful, pioneering ideas. The label’s finely pleated dresses displayed a life of their own, and its micro-printed dresses were gathered, folded and distorted to walk the line between stylish and quirky.

In contrast, the sportswear at MaxMara and Donatella Versace targeted the dynamic generation of athletic women, with sleek leggings, belted jackets, power suits and anoraks. Versace has made it clear that she thinks this is the only way forward. She may be right, but there’s always room for the myriad styles displayed at Milan Fashion Week in all our wardrobes.

It was feathers with everything at Prada. Silk pyjamas, boldly coloured and mixed checks, cardigans and wrap skirts with Velcro fasteners show Miuccia Prada reinventing the classics. Most glamorous was the series of evening dresses and pyjamas with jewelled embroidery and feathers, worn with kitten heels that married sporty straps with heaps of crystals. Prada’s must-have bag of the season is a bold clutch with a long strap fastener, that comes in a multitude of geometric and daisy patterns.

Versace

Over the past three seasons, Donatella Versace has been carving out a new image for her brand – a shift from the luxe glam of red carpets and superyachts, although the inhabitants of that world will be sure to buy into the new Versace vibe. Donatella’s girls are both glamorous and empowered. The sporty look is tough, urban and energetic, judging by the billowing ultra-thin high-tech nylon parkas and blousons, stirrup trousers and dresses (the shapes of which are manipulated by drawstrings). Dresses, skirts and tops are spliced at angles and studded together. Swishy pleated dresses and silky slit skirts gave energy when in movement, and were as soft as the look got.

Bottega Veneta

Model Gigi Hadid and veteran actress Lauren Hutton walked arm in arm down the Bottega Veneta runway, illustrating the breadth of the Italian maison in Tomas Maier’s hands. This was a double celebration of the Bottega’s 50th ­anniversary and Maier’s 15th as its creative director. Menswear and womenswear were combined, and the focus was on easy, elegant clothes in luxurious materials, such as ostrich, crocodile and lamb skin for coats; easy knits and cotton dresses worn with antique-style silver jewellery; and wedge heels. Fifteen handbag styles debuted along with 15 from the archive.

Fendi

Silvia Venturini’s new Kan handbag was a star turn at Milan. The stud-lock bag dotted with candy-coloured studs, rosette embroidery and floral ribbons couldn’t help but charm every woman in the audience. It was the perfect joyful accessory for Karl Lagerfeld’s feminine vintage romp through the wardrobe of Marie Antoinette, with sugary colours, bows, big apron skirts and crisp white embroidery juxtaposed with sporty footballer-stripe tops – effectively updating a historical look.Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/red-carpet-celebrity-dresses

I could answer your questions with a simple, off-the-cuff explanation but have ended up writing this essay: the more I thought about what you’d asked, the more the I felt it warranted a fuller explanation so I will try to explain why I call myself a Wiccan and how I come to be following the Wicca Path. And apologies in advance for the length of this!

As well as my love of Literature, I love History with a similar passion. My degree was in English and History and although I specialised in Shakespearian and post-Shakespearian literature and Modern History, I have a long held fascination with Celtic and pre-Celtic history, beliefs and spirituality. It is the mysticism of the Old Religion that seemed to attract me most and I found myself drawn particularly to the Celtic and Welsh mythology and have read extensively about it: Cornwall and Wales (mid Wales in particular) are my two favourite places in the world. I have read a lot about Celtic and pre-Celtic history, beliefs and religion over the years, both fiction and non-fiction.

Although Jewish by birth, I was brought up by my father who was a confirmed atheist so I lost out on any formal religious influence as I was growing up. Perhaps because of his views, I developed a distrust of formal, mainstream religion. That’s not to say I felt I had no spiritual beliefs at all, it’s just they were untapped and unidentified; I felt I was reaching out for something but it never took on any tangible form, rather like in a dream when you cannot see clearly the faces or forms of the inhabitants of your dreams.

By the time I got into my forties, I realised there was something seriously lacking in the spiritual side of my life. These beliefs were compounded by three events:

    * reading James Lovelock's Gaia theory [which inspired me to write one of my favourite stories, Gaia's Last, published here];
    * my discovery of Jean Auel's Earth's Children series of books , Clan of the Cave Bear, etc. which go into extraordinary detail of Cro-Magnon peoples' belief in nature spirits, worship of The Mother and Shamanism;
    * a sudden change in my circumstances that forced me to re-evaluate every aspect of my life and my existence.

It was at this time I began to research the Old Religion: paganism, nature-worship, whatever you want to call it, and this led me to discover Wicca.

The more I read about it, the more I realised it fitted in with my current state of mind and outlook on life. Maybe there is a sense of escapism inasmuch as the roots of Wicca look backward to a simpler time and as I was having difficulty coping with the complexities of the changed circumstances in my life at the time. Wicca seemed to offer exactly the spiritual needs I was lacking.

That is not to say that Wicca is old-fashioned and out of date. Rather the contrary in fact. Whilst its roots acknowledge the Old Religion, Wicca is relatively modern having been developed by a guy called Gerald Gardner who published a book called Witchcraft Today in the 1940s I believe which re-established in the public eye the old pagan beliefs that have been around since the dawn of man. These beliefs never really disappeared even through the worst of the atrocities perpetrated against followers of the Old Religion [The Burning Times ]. (And just to make an important point about the title of the book and Wicca in general, Witchcraft in the pagan and Wicca context is NOT Black Magic or Satanism as the tabloid press or mainstream religion would have you believe; it could not be further from them. It is simply an acknowledgement of the existence of natural forces that can be used or channelled by those who choose to learn these ancient skills).

I have seen Wicca [and other forms of Paganism] referred to as Green Magic and that seems the perfect definition; it is immensely comforting to work so closely with the natural world and to feel such a part of it.

So for me, Wicca is an ideal spiritual antidote for the impossibly fast-paced, self-serving lifestyles we all seem to be caught up in these days, often through no choice of our own. It is as valid a belief system as any other practised throughout the world and is nothing like the forms of Wicca popularised in the media with TV shows like Charmed and its ilk!

Wicca is it is not something to be taken on lightly - Wicca practices should be treated with the same reverence as those in any other belief system. It requires study, practice and dedication.’

I have to confess to have been lacking in all three since I originally wrote this so have vowed to myself to rectify these shortcomings. I feel excited about my rekindled sense of spirituality and more at peace with myself for making this decision.

Go in Love & Light!

“Decolonize your mind before you become a new black slave.” He whispered to me before pushing one of his dreads behind his ear and grinning wildly at my perplexed expression. I lowered the straightener and stared at him for a while – I had loved him because of the way he was self-assured, it never faltered and I knew an explanation would follow as I leaned forward, raising an eyebrow, questioning him.
“You know you’re a queen right?” He continued, interrupting my train of thought, while turning off the straightener at the plug point.
“Ja, I know.” I answered blatantly.  
“ Then decolonize your mind.” He shouted before thrusting his hands into the sky and exiting my room. I think he knew I would figure it out for myself because as I stared at the straightener on my desk- it clicked. The statement vibrated in the very depths of my soul and an untapped reserve of energy was suddenly channelled into my aura. I could feel my ancestors, I could hear their cries, I could feel the weight of shackles, I could feel a whip, I could feel resentment, I could feel hatred, I could feel the power of a God who didn’t look like me, I could feel my peoples names that were written out of history books, I could taste blood in my mouth, I could feel blood on the cotton, I could feel what it meant to be black.
It was an epiphany, induced both by drink as well as the stench of my burnt hair. The epiphany spoke to me, reminding me that who I am was holy. That black was undeniably beautiful and not in the clichéd way that I learnt of in history when people averted their eyes, avoiding discomfort presented in an unacknowledged truth. It was in earnest, that I realised that my melanin was paramount to a glorious dynasty that I was privileged enough to be a part of. I would wear my ancestry daily and no longer shy away from the truth of my being. I am sun kissed, I am regal, I am Cleopatra, I am King Shaka, I am the soil and the trees and everything that matters in this universe, I am a closed fist lifted in a rally where mercy has intersected rage, resulting in non-violence.
The only violence that is accepted is that which vehemently opposes the status quo that my people are not good enough. That is what was meant when he told me to decolonize my mind.
“ You will be villianized in your pursuit for emancipation because the margin of melanin present in our people will always render you a slave so choose now what you will subscribe to. “ and I made a decision, standing upon the raw backs of my ancestors- I chose a discarded truth and the truth is this-  I am art. We, are art and art cannot be subjugated or castrated by a close minded agenda, set by people who have never bothered to understand you nor will they ever begin to.
I am  a poem that breathes and speaks and therefor has no choice but to be remembered. I will be etched into the minds of people who would rather forget me. I will be written down in history books next to men who would rather deny my existence.
In that moment, in my epiphany, I began to wade barefoot through my soul. I began to find pieces of myself I didn’t know where lost – and is that not courage in itself? Finding the corpse of your soul, buried beneath a cruel, mercilessly pale agenda?
          
Is speaking the truth not brave?
So I set down the straightener, and began to live.

She's been enjoying her time while living and working in London.

And Nicole Kidman was clearly thrilled to be one of the star guests at The 60th Women Of The Year Luncheon & Awards in the British capital on Monday afternoon.

The 48-year-old actress - who is currently starring in West End play Photograph 51 - cut a beautiful figure in a multi-tonal lace dress as she arrived at the prestigious event, held at the InterContinental London Park Lane.

The willowy beauty covered her slim figure in the mid-length dress, made up of several different lace panels in pale lilac, purple, yellow, black and white.

Cinching in at her slender waistline, the dress billowed out into a full A-line skirt, and also included long sleeves.

A Victoriana-style high-necked black lace section finished off the gorgeous garment, giving her a serene, ladylike air.

The Australia actress teamed the eye-catching dress with a pair of strappy black heels with pointed toes, and a tiny black box clutch.

Her pale red locks were swept back into a chic updo, her mid-length fringe framing her face.

The actress' bright blue eyes were highlighted with just a touch of mascara, and her beauty look was pulled together with a pretty pink shade on her lips.

Nicole was one of many star guests at the annual central London event, held to honour amazing women across all industries.

The famous event, which paid special tributes to six remarkable women from all fields, saw plenty of other star guests in attendance, with 400 in total at the luncheon.

After rising to fame as the winner of this year's The Great British Bake Off, Nadiya Hussain was one of the star attendees at the highly-significant ceremony.

The talented baker and busy mum, 30, rocked a simple and chic ensemble of slim-fitting black trousers and a crisp blue blazer, and bright turquoise heels.

Another familiar face was singer/songwriter Katie Melua, who opted for a cool androgynous ensemble.

The Call Off The Search hitmaker showed off her lovely long legs in a pair of black leather trousers, teamed with a sheer white blouse, a blazer and a cute black ribbon ******* around the collar.

Writer-comedian-actress Meera Syal rocked a typically unconventional ensemble as she arrived, cutting a striking figure in a bold patterned shirt dress with a lovely long black scarf and a jacket thrown over the top.

Princess Diana's glamorous niece Lady Kitty Spencer channelled a power-dressing 1980s vibe in a standout black shirt dress with bright, colourful buttons donw the front.

The pretty blonde finished her luncheon look with a chunky white clutch bag and perspex heels.

Choreographer and former Strictly Come Dancing star Arlene Phillips was a chic addition to the guest list in a figure-hugging red dress, and TV presenter and journalist Julie Etchingham wowed in an understated taupe dress with an origami-folded skirt and matching cropped jacket.

Also in attendance were the likes of Dame Esther Rantzen, TV's Lorraine Kelly - who was glorious in a gold lace frock - Maureen Lipman, Mary Nightingale, Jo Brand and

The Women of the Year winners were whittled down and chosen by a panel of notable, accomplished women: Sandi Toksvig CBE, Sue MacGregor CBE, Dame Tessa Jowell MP, Baroness Doreen Lawrence OBE, Jane Luca, Ronke Phillips, Eve Pollard OBE, Lisa Markwell, Gill Carrick and Sue Walton.

And viewers of popular morning programme, ITV's Lorraine, were also able to vote for their Inspirational Woman of the Year via a phone poll.

Sandi, President of the Women of the Year Awards, said: 'Women of the Year has celebrated the wonderful achievements of women since 1955.

read more:www.marieaustralia.com/mermaid-trumpet-formal-dresses

www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-perth

Poetry is the voice chattering in my head...
Never lets up... It is the voice for when I'm afraid...
Conjured up from deep looping thoughts...
Vented out through written words when the voice could not.
Necessity forged by the mind and heart.
Feelings and emotions that the core wouldn't carelessly discard.
Poetry is an outlet of sorts, tentatively I can afford.
In this realm, the pen be my sword.
Poetry is everything... Beauty spanning multiple universes...
All we do is try to have it harnessed and channelled into individual artful verses...


An outlet, escape, my hole in the wall,
where I can hide from the Hell in my heart.
You're learning to walk, I'm just trying to crawl
beneath the flak; as it once tore me apart.
I've got my demons, how about you?
Faceless legions strung through my soul;
with ink and paper, they often bleed through
From lines and verses, I regain some control.
So, if you're asking me what poetry means
I won't say much, but I'll show you my scars.
Words and rhymes slash stitches and seams,
but in my unraveling, I see shooting stars.


My escape from the world
A distraction from myself
Instead of a mark on my body
I place a mark upon paper
I watch the ink flow from the pen
Happy that it's black
And not red
It bleeds into the crinkled paper
Mapping out the story
The story of my life so far
I don't think
I just write
Emptying my mind
My messed up mind
But the mess will never truly be gone
Just temporary relief
This is my relief


Poetry doesn't mean something,
Poetry is telling somebody who knows the truth, a lie and making them believe you anyways.


The air I breathe, the life I lead, everything I believe, poetry
The truest, permanent written form, at its finest
Even if it doesn't rhyme, every word is still the dearest
It's my relief from anxiety, my calm when I'm panicking
It's a sight for sore eyes when I wake up with a hangover and a headache
The only way I can express myself, show my deepest heartache
The only happiness I have when I'm depressed, my only friend when I'm lonely
My poetry and yours, day in and day out, is like oxygen to me
I can't breathe without poetry


A poet sees rivers where veins
run, caged birds where hearts
beat against ribs, stellar explo-
sions in place of emotion.
To be a poet means to breathe
through your eyes, to find life
in the weeds suffocating your
lungs, to build an ocean
of metaphors and memories,
never knowing which is which.


Poetry is art in itself
It is our passion that is slowly dying out throughout humanity
Because humanity is slowly forgetting what makes us human
What we survive on and die for everyday
But not us poets...
Our poetry is the chain to what we are
What we fought for all these years
What we die for trying to protect
For poetry is our mortality
Poetry is our life.

The first song I ever drummed to
Was also, unfortunately,
The last song I ever drummed to.

But I'll never forget the way
The drumsticks fitted into my palms
And the rhythm just seemed to flow;
It all seemed so natural

The way my hands hit the drum and
My leg slammed the pedal,
All that anger channelled into a

Beautiful beat.

To that magical instrument I not yet have,
Fear not for we will one day reunite.
I will play you with
The beat of my heart,
Let the music flow and
Emotion part.

Thank you for returning
My right of expression.

Green sea-tarnished copper
And sea-tarnished gold
Of cupolas.

Sea-runnelled streets
Channelled by salt air
That wears the white stone.

The sunlight-filled cistern
Of a dry-dock. Square shadows.
Sun-slatted smoke above meticulous stooping of cranes.

Water pressed up by ships' prows
Going, coming.

City dust turned
Back by the sea-wind's
Wall.

A man I looked up to
Once told me to be careful,
That maybe I could be too much.
Too bold
Too strong
That men may not feel comfortable.
But you see
Women in my world have never been gentle,
Always burnt with too much fervour
To care that you might melt.
You think it is an insult,
That you can coerce me into being more submissive
By the threat of offending men.
Like somehow I am nothing
With the absence of a man's desire.
Like everything about me
Should be channelled into impressing a man
I am yet to meet.
But you don't know that inside I am smiling.
Inside a fire in me burns brighter at hearing
That sometimes my strength makes them uncomfortable.
I am not here so men who tell me I'm prettier when I have less voice,
So men who think it's okay to intimidate me
Whenever they see fit,
In whatever form they wish,
Can feel less unsettled by this supposed threat to their masculinity.
I hope my mind,
My bones and my blood,
Make your safety net
Of a society that breeds and feeds male egotism
A little less secure.
I am not here for your comfort.
I am not here to feed the monster of misogyny inside of you.

Do not tell me to douse my fire
And extinguish these flames
Just because you,
Men like you,
Cannot handle the heat.

A very firm intention
To tell it as it is
Has the audience attention
On its toes and all afizz,
Though channelled to the circumspect,
With a patterned thought awry
It chaotically cascades
Across the prism of the eye.

It chaotically discharges
In a scattergun array
Of verbal innuendoes
Through a thin, saliva spray,
And all the passion spent in telling,
All the effort of the tale,
Sends a barrage of confusion
To occipital portrayal.

Where the tiny bones of balance
All atremble with the sound
Have discharged interpretation
Through a penny to a pound.
There’s a lost extrapolation,
There’s a blank look on the face
Where the balance of exchange
Has frittered nimbly from this place.

A calmness in both parties
As a sad pretence prevails,
Where communication nexus
Is ignored to save the whales.

Marshalg
Incommunicado
30 May 2012

© 2012 Marshal Gebbie

Collected thoughts from previous years inside my head, no words to say
Ever to be so loved and thoughtful things given with care
Warmth and humbleness show through my actions of response
How can this 19th May be so very different from others?

Channelled emotion comes close to the surface as my eyes well with tears
It’s a boyhood wonder appearing - as if I was that special?
Slowly I remove the perfect wrapping and gaze with wide eyes
Equally I am unable to speak

As the card says, ‘always your Jan’ it means just that
Many times my heart has wished for this
At last the dream is reality and not just for now but  forever
Too much for one day

Each little present a token of love wrapped in a heartfelt manner
Birthdays are special but no-one is this lucky are they?
As the paper lets go of its secret, we kiss
Just thank you but not just thank you, love you and fabulous!!

My heart is as big as my body as it struggles to stay inside my skin
That lump in the throat won’t go away and the eye thing still threatens
Deep breaths as I give up my thanks to the cosmos for my wonderful Jan
She knows me so well, we love so much.

I miss your parti-coloured waters mixing it up
and tumbling through the fruit bearing gorge,
a force to be reckoned with

and reckon with you they did.

You've middle-aged spread into a behaved oversized pond,
your energy channelled to serve others,
mannered and within bounds.

Why do you put up with a social climber
With two rungs left
Before his feet touch the earth?
Is it pity, empathy or indifference?

Choices are often ultimatums;
Free will is frequently channelled;
Chaos and dominos infiltrate like moles;
Serendipity and chance prevail.
A few rungs were damaged,
And the playing field is never level.

Why do you put up with one so down?

Ladders, she says, extend both ways,
The angles depend on aspirations.
Going up varies,
Coming down, inevitable.

She concludes with:
*The law of gravity is grave.
That's how.

A jumble of memories
A feeling of warmth
Dreamlike, escaping
I struggle to wake.

A cascade of snapshots
Darkly edged moments
A vagueness, like seeking
A word in the void.

A hypnotic gathering
Of previous faces
A channelled remembering
People who lived.

The here and the now
Are eternally mine
I cannot escape them
I cannot divine.

Live in the moment
Love in the now
Reach out for each other
And never say die.

It saved me from being lonely
It saved me from drowning into darkness
It is the one who hearten me only
I am beholden to it at the times of harshness

My art, my saviour

I tried being alone away from the world
I cried myself to sleep in murk being curled
My agony into anger I channelled
Nothing helped

So I took a pen & held it against a paper
As a thought struck to try one last time
And slowly words formed into sentences
And sentence silhouetted into a rhyme

With trembling hands slowly I began
As scintilla of pain pouring down my mind
Onto an empty piece filling it up with rhyme, my art
Engrossing me into it yielding place to peace in my mind

It saved me from being lonely
It saved me from drowning into darkness
It is the one who hearten me only
I am beholden to it at the times of harshness

My art, my saviour

Life has hit me mercilessly
shotgun blasts to my soul
tearing out pieces of it
leaving holes that need filling
with little or no hope I push on
still reeling and out of control
I continue to smoke and drink
and think to myself that maybe
there will be an answer
in something I've wrote
therefore I write and write
in spite of my lack of ambition
just in case I find
the truth that I've been missing

Upon this Night where my Feelings soaked late
I took the Charmer to mix his Best Brew
Then by his Good Stamps breathed out my Good State
And cleaned my Pages for Verses renew
Fancy how the French and Magician meet
To conjure this Milestone we call a Store
From a Savvie's Sip - to a Mystic's Beat
And blow this Spell for us to come for more
Not that Everyday's a Fair-Feathered Wand
Or Tomes which avid Legerdemains seek
But that same Old Brew - made New by his Hand
And channelled the Mist which makes it Unique.
Breathe those Spirits - to where Hip Youngsters go
I toast my Cup - to that Song playing now.

Storm water channelled by terracotta roofs,
Falling to the Earth like waterfalls.
Green plants clinging to the walls and you.
Dancing on the wet stone.

I never quite realized the juncture of its occurring,
but as I got older from seed to stalk to flower I
realised that some thing was off, only ever so slightly.
Nuances of memory were enveloped in my deliberation
of actions that were considered unworthy of what I was
saying or doing but I could never quite glimpse over
the horizon of what felt uneasy till that one day.

It wasn't what I had expected I was walking as I always
did in the woods near my home, I loved nature the aromas
of either summer when everything was vibrant and I would
just slumber under the shade of my favourite tree.
"I used to tell that tree my problems from an early age,
I always envisioned that when I told it of my woes that
when it became winter that each spoken word was a leaf and
when it feel then my mind was free of those burdens.

Ridiculous I know, now I just watch the leafs do there
dance of the falling as I like to call it. Some elegantly waltz
to there beckoning below while others just mosh-pit it
to the floor like bungee jumping with no cork. I wish I felt
that free to just let go of it all. But alas I am me and I cant
change the evolution of myself, I can only channel my energies
in to trying to be better than what my family think and expect
I will undoubtedly be, worthless in there expectations, never.

It occurred that day, I never understood why? but it changed
everything. I was diagnosed with ice-pick migraines if you
have never had them...

"Lets just say it like a full blown migraine in a cluster of seconds
or minutes and the pain is like being shot or my vision of the
pain that expels from my thought,
"Then as soon as it hits like a numbness expels itself on the
area and light headedness not the nicest of experiences specially
when like a earthquake I have aftershocks all day,

This one was intense I stumbled and eyes fastened to each
other and then I was up and about again. that numb feeling
has got a, "Like feeling I had lost some part of me, but after
a while I was back to myself. Entering through the backdoor
I hollered to my parent that I was back, and they came down
stairs smiling and I was uneasy at the show of affection?
"Why the smiles you evicting me or something?
They just laughed and said cant we just smile when we see you.

This was the start of it, every time I had that ****** pain
noticeably cracks were seen. I would be saying about something
and then they'd ask if I was ok, and after my university results
came I was despondent, Scoring a B+ when I needed an A+.
Beside myself I wallowed in negativity, I couldn't be a teacher
of science. Those days in the woods channelled my curiosity to the
makings of the world around me.

But then I had a lingering pain, locking my eyes as if they were
unattainable for my vision to peer through the cracks. But as
always panic wasn't justified and the numbness passed.
I walked into the sitting room slightly groggy of the passing
"Surprise, congratulations our teacher in training.
"What this is cruel, is this a joke,

A+ you were jumping up and down yesterday like you
were on a pogo stick, I thought for a moment lingering on
the subtle change of what had perspired. I'm sorry its been
a lot to take in the last few days.
"I think for Halloween ill  dress up like Einstein,
everyone laughs out loud E=mc2 player........

I cant quite grasp what else had changed, niggling
at me through out the years that past an uneasy
trepidation lingered. But at the back of my mind
it fell as I was with love in my heart, and I was honoured
to have not one but three children. all  luckily had her looks
not mine, I always gave them a kiss on the head goodnight.

But then I got a feeling within that I wasn't really thinking
straight, and I knew then. It was to late it was like a tsunami
cresting over my mind and I realized it was one of them.......
Before I could fight it, I know I couldn't stop it.
Then the pain faded I didn't see anything different and
sighed with relief maybe it was just a headache? no worries then.

I walked in the house I could smell her cooking, god I loved
her cooking, she was like a Picasso in the kitchen and my
mouth watered at what creativity had been created.
"Hi baby, Matthew, Sarah, where is your sister?
perplexed looks fell over their faces.

"Who Daddy!

"Maddie, your little sister,

Sarah spoke asking the obvious thought of who is Maddie,
I was getting agitated at the thought they would be playing
a game when I hadn't seen there sister.
"Baby where is Maddie, "is she a friend of the little ones,
I thought by her voice that she was humouring me, and as I
looked around every photo was vacant of her beautiful features.

My mind went it to overdrive, it couldn't, wouldn't be that
cruel... I had turned white and became dizzy, I don't feel so
g.......... I threw up in the kitchen bin as tears of realization
swept over my like a rock slide. I was vacant and untethered
at this point and voices were a blur. "Baby you ok, I heard
her through the haze of confusion. "Do you remember what
I told you about what used to happen to me? confusion in
her eyes answered my fears that more than one thing had changed.

Hand were over my eyes as I didn't want the children to see me
like this. Were they even mine? of course they were, how could
I have even thought that for a moment.. "I'm sorry baby,
Then the inevitable conspired on me, and I felt my mind succumbing
to that crest of pain, I lost my balance as I was already leaning and
as I blinked I was the table edge greeting me then darkness enveloped
my conciseness. I heard voices in this sea of confusing moments.


Awakening in a hospital bed I blinked as if It felt that I was erratically
becoming conscious then being swept into the void of silence.
"Baby I love you please wake up,
Her voice was like a choir of classic music gracing my mind.
I awoke suddenly, her smile greeted me. My head that was a pretty
hard head you have, two days you been lazing in bed, she smiled
I think mostly because I had greeted her with a groggy smile.

Sarah was there holding, no more like squeezing the blood
from my hand, but I didn't mind even though the pins and
needles were not a delightful pain to wake up too.
Where is your brother? "Brother daddy, I knew that look
and my wife just nodded, in a panicked look. I was exhausted
even though knowing what had accrued and tears fell like
glass shards cutting on my features as I was dragged to slumber.

I awoke to see my wife, holding my hand gently, in panic I
asked where is Sarah? She is with my mother, why did you
ask about Matthew, you know he was still born, and the pain
this causes us both. I'm sorry my baby I was confused.
I uncontrollably cried, the dam of emotions had broken through
and in a matter of hours I had lost two of my children those
memories were still and forever chiselled in my thoughts...

After my release I went to see a therapist as I became solace
in my grief that my wife couldn't comprehend to her it had
happened years ago. But in my eyes I had lost there breath
on my face as they kissed me on the cheek goodnight.
Now I only have the most recent memories and not even
pictures of them to console my heart  with.

I had spoken in detail, of what had happened and
with vacant expressions he just looked and smiled.
I knew what was next either prescriptions to dull my
mind of these imagining that he perceived I has had
or the worst case I would be greeted with that inevitable
white coat and padded thoughts drugged to my eyes *****.

I left feeling lighter in myself even though he gave me enough
meds to sedate a horse, a really, really big horse. I walked home
thinking how would I cope knowing the memories that were
bleeding out of consciousness. I had to do everything to not
crack like a glass snowflake falling from the blue skies.
I smiled as I walked through the door seeing her run towards me.

My arms were open to have my only other reason for living
embrace me, I knew it would eventually happen, but not as
I had only grasped her in my momentary needing. Then it
took me, eyes were saturated in nothing and when I came
to my grasp was empty my palms only hugging the floor.
Nothing has ever changed this much and dread encompassed me.

My home or was it, neither a picture or flower graced the
surrounding of my once warm home, I walked into the
living room, I couldn't smell the perfume she wore.
"Baby, where are you? no answer maybe she was out..
Then i stared at the fire place a jar, then a smaller one sat
neatly next to it, a shudder cam over me like death whispered.

I walked over, but it was as if my feet were dredging through
tar. I couldn't look up, I wanted to but knew what would
greet me. I was shaking like a leaf in a hurricane, and then
all was silence. I read the wording, and tears streamed from
eyes like words screaming into vacant nothingness.
It was my wife's ashes and my 8 month old daughter,
so long had past since there passing but to me it was now.

I sat there just gazing blankly at these precious vessels
she didn't even, i didn't even have a chance to say goodbye
to then either of them. All of them gone, why me, I needed
surrender to the fact that I was no longer within a world
that cared. I held it in my hand it was cold, I knew what
had to be done, I couldn't do this crap anymore.

I wondered what would  hurt the most in the mouth or
to the temple? My frustration at life had climaxed to this
inevitable junction. I didn't know whether to cry or
laugh, I just thought of there images the love of my
life, my three little jumping beans. I smiled momentarily
then normality intruded and I pulled the trigger, then oblivion.

Can you comprehend the time of life and death, it eternal
yet finite. I felt the pain for a moment and all was nothing,
but I awoke in a unknown location. Confused and even more
perplexed at the thought of was I alive or dead? then I happened
upon a slim looking bloke,
"Hello this is going to be a funny question,
"Where am I? and what day is this?

"Are you high mate? "No just a little disoriented stag party,
The date was at least a week from my happening, I needed at
least twenty migraine tablets and a *****, but then again would
this just happen again. I wondered till my feet hurt, I slept at a
homeless shelter. Luckily they had pity on my sorry looking
****. In the morning I phoned to no answer discontinued it played.

It took a few days to get back to my house, and I looked through
the  window my outcry was instant and also more vocal than I
had anticipated. She say me and instead of joy there was horror in
here loving eyes and then she passed out but I was behind a window
and she feel with no arms to catch her she crumpled like paper that
bleed crimson then she was still. I kicked in the door s the children
were screaming.

"Its ok babies daddy is here,

"It cant be we buried you a week ago?
"Mummy said you had a seizure, that you had feel asleep
and never woke up again, now mummy isn't moving,

"I felt her pulse her blood soaking the surrounding areas, she
was already going cold,

Without warning that godforsaken pain eclipsed my eyes, and
then I was alone and where I saw her in life then death was
erased from the surrounding. My poor children had lost me
and her in a week. but I had shifted and they were probably
inconsolable at that point, I cried for hours till I couldn't weep
another tear and then I realized I had to look up myself for
if that was at that point I ended myself had I doomed my others.

I looked up my name, bless she hadn't changed the code,
if my thoughts were true I had caused a fluctuation that
extended beyond my misguided but needed actions.
I penned in my name and where I had just imagined
the thought of what if's. It was as I had feared I was dead
again this was a worrying turn of events.

My obituary was a before, I, he had suffered a aneurysm
on the date that I had ended my life, but it was just another
action of my grief. How many lives were concluded, but
my thought shifted to the noise at the front door. The key
was edging towards the door  opening. I didn't know
what to do as I knew the repercussions of seeing myself.

I just hid in the closet, I saw her face as she entered and I
had to keep my emotions in check. I was only thinking,
"Don't open the door don't open the door, she walked
up the stairs and I took to the front door, creaking as it
opened. I really need to oil this when this chaos doesn't
interrupt my existence anymore, "Who's there, echoes from
upstairs and I exit with my bank card. ill only use a bit.

The cashpoint was in front of me I had borrowed a hoodie
from a neighbours washing line, I didn't like them anyway
so no lose there then. I only took a few hundred to keep me
going in food, I was homeless for months as I couldn't really
get a home or a job as I was dead and buried. Visiting ones
own grave is a very peculiar feeling nice head stone though.

Thoughts flurried through out my waking days to what I
would do as this wasn't really what I had planned with my
life. The thought of wanting to move on seemed to fit
my predicament, as  neither a headache or migraine of
any sort.. Lucky me.. I was awoken by a voice, not one I
recognized and as stumbled to my feet dazed but awake.

"It is you?

I had no time for these games of twenty questions and told
then to politely "jog on, but they just stood there and I
thought I was incoherent. I put my glasses on and looked
again? my brother well his brother! "why did you run,
"From the grave bro, you were dead I saw you with my
own to eyes. I just looked as a tear escaped my ***** exterior
and a crocked line of cleanliness dripped off my face to the
floor below, and the only words I could muster was "I'm sorry,

You see I never had a brother, I was a lonely child, cradled under
that tree wishing my troubled days away always wishing that
when the leafs fell so would my troubles. Yet there he was, it
was nice to see I had a sibling. He was hugging me like I he
was holding me above water fearful to let me go encase I
drowned out into this nest of unkempt persons and he held on tightly.
I just stared and there was a momentary silence in-between the noise.

"How could you leave her like that she was your wife,
"She would have understood man.

I saw where this was going, thinking I had a break down, some
how faked my death. Laughable really I couldn't escape it but I
was really good at delivering it to myself in others ways...
Let me explain, "How the hell am I going to explain this rationally,
my thought speaking out in my mind, seconds seemed cemented
in place. "I will tell you, but not here, and as I began to walk away
I just thought of his face the moment I tell him, I so going to the
padded room when he hears my explanation.

But i didn't have time i was accosted by two rather large gentlemen,
"What the hell? let go off me, that was a far as I got as I felt that
flaming burning sensation in my neck. Darkness ensued then a blurry
light, everywhere was white, had it snowed? was that a dream?
No I was in a padded cell my wife and brother looking on, sadness
painted on eyes as if they were looking at some sick animal about to
be put out of its misery. "Its not me, I shouted to no avail as the eye piece closed and I was alone with my fluffy white clouds wow what
ever they had given me it was awesome..

So many years had past i hadn't told a soul of my misfortune, till
that moment when i felt my heart stutter like an engine... then the
pain came and i was neither here or there but freeze framed in two
instances, the now and the moment before i pulled the trigger...
my eyes were open in death but closed with the gun so I reached
out and took it, and I left a note, a brief scribbling,

To many leafs have fallen and the troubles they just became a
pile of problems building rotting upon the other, this isn't the
truth but a leaf that shall never fall....

"Whisper in her ear every night, for a whisper is louder than
and word.....

And with that I opened my eyes and I had shifted once again
and the gun luckily was in that other place.  I looked down at
the piece of crumpled paper and a

You don't stop being a child, and become an adult, all at once.
Remember the endless reservoir of energy you had?
It slowly becomes purpose, ambition, goals.
Limited, channelled, tunnelled, controlled.
Optimism leaks away, you learn restraint, you learn to be guarded.
You realise that to be otherwise, leaves you vulnerable,
That others can, and will, hurt you.
It can take decades to learn all these lessons,
You still assume that everyone will act like you, think like you,
You're floored by betrayal, again and again.
If you're lucky, you'll retain some childhood naïveté, some trust,
And circumvent cynicism, which is the death of freedom, and hope.
If it has found you, you must try to travel back to your childlike heart,
Everyone's map is different,
So I cannot show you the way.

It ***** that I miss you,
it hurts that I never ever had a chance to kiss you
wait a minute, can't believe it...
I haven't forgotten your number,not even a digit
it angers realising I'm no longer the comics on your thread
the best Facebook posts and tweets you read
I doubt I'm in your heart when you evicted me from your head
it ***** that I'm no longer that call you lust for at daybreak
the ears that listened to your endless lamentations
the ocean where you channelled your tears when you had a headache
miss being the lad you confide in your outrageous contemplation
I'd go back if you could return to the lady you used to be
sacrificing much of this present cause you mean lots to me
I miss the jolly girl who had big dreams and hated reality
that you changed is a travesty with utmost fatality
you were that lass who understood and explored my despair
the only mortal who'd see the invisible stair
up my utopian architectural castles hanging in the air
whatever happened so much so that you hardly even care
you're far albeit I tried to keep us as close as it once was
but the more I kept knocking the tighter you locked the doors
it hurts that I didn't manage to let you know what lies in my heart
can't imagine anyone else loving me without ripping me apart
it's sad that you'll never get to know the comfort you brought
and the courage with which I rowed when we were in the same boat
you locked me out and walked singly into the dawn
say for the lack of a better word you termed us apart "alone"
yet now you pride in company of your own
with a bevy of beauties who kicked me off my throne
if I'd known that we'd drift before the epilogue
I would have said goodbye to your charm at our prologue
it hurts that you don't know that it hurts missing you
it hurts but there's nothing much I can do
I can't return to the past that is clearly lost
neither can I cast out your spell fingers crossed...
for I'm still crazily in love with the one I can't have
drowning in these tumultuous thoughts barely alive
hanging on a thread and hoping I survive

Orthodox we, imprisoned in colours
Locked in hues of fear within,
Withering limits of spirit’s extension
Embattlements “will we or won’t we” the sin ?

Channelled in avenue's solid damnation
Skirting the sensitive’s damning intrigue
Entrenched in a mire of social containment
Ruled by customry, locked in fatigue.

God! To be free of this ****** limitation!
God!  we all yearn to emerge from the dark!
Shedding our cloaks of intolerable burden....
To sing the unquenchable song of the lark.

M.
Hamilton
20 February 2016

LIKE delicate erosion you found my heart.....
Not like soft kisses and lustful stares channelled my Infatuation.....
Seems like an enchanted fairy tale...
My world held you... Planetary grip felt so Universal....
I can smell your hair as it danced on my disbelief....
As your touch pinned me and made me weak.....
I glanced as to not be frozen in you and THAT smile.....
Auditory laughs are frequent as I close my wounds....
No more glass panes observing empty promises.....
But with hopeful gambles....  Risk became easy....
Id grab you and make my heart break for the instant gaze....
Run my hand thru your hair to feel angels delicate beauty...
Pull you near so I would feel strong......
Weak wishes only now....
But id break my heart forever to have one grasp....
Like I know youd never fight me....
We love like bandits and liars .....
Like we both stole each others hearts.....
And promised each other Forever......

Celibate is a fullness
channelled directed
Freedom to love
everyone.

Rewrite of an old one.....I could have picked an easier one to rewrite lol

Winters emotions

Coldness issues and seeps slowly under my feet through bare polished wood floors
Winters growing chill subtly and with seasons stealth lays her hand upon the land
Memories of those summer days
Nighttimes' blackness now comes early with its seeping hint of winters cold memories of summer now but a golden memory that covers gilded cage

Meanings now lost upon dusty unlit shadow covered book ends upon the once warm shelves
Emotions deep they resonate with messages unheard in souls dark cold winter wells
Smiling frightened life now dishelved with the coming of that winter emotions found so cheap
Endless distances across life's journey those memories of warm summer now they slowly creep
Reaching out that warm friendly forgiving hand that will always be there for you to reach for to grasp forever hold
Silent teardrops tracing the well worn passages down my cheek channelled silent rivers as again that new love grows now so cold
Matching now and marching side by side as if in a brass band I sit again in silence watching natures seasons change
Again fate in her wisdom in league with Destiny reaches deep within us and causes us to rearrange
Candles flutter in competition with open fires warming roaring glow writing illuminated seen by fires light
Again I wonder that age old timeless question and seek answers from the heavens to untangle life's great mystery that of knowing wrong from right
Trust again given to the wrong person from this heart of mine tearing at emotions as I watched it used as a door mat torn up just thrown away
Again I feel the searching yet again knowing the meaning of unconditional love and honest just for that one that comes to stay
Again the road ahead its view uncluttered by the falsehoods they did bring seeing clear eyed with happiness the future ahead with wide open view
Journeys to those places been experience lessons learned kn owing glancing to the recent past theres nothing there worthy to be seen
Raindrops falling pattering musically upon the roof above they mimic as if in harmony those that we've sometimes cried
People and their games they played like the coldness from the polished floorboard beneath my feet they haunt the confines of our head
(GE2014)

In Ancient Rome the Emperors ensured the populace were kept quiet,
With bloodied slaves to gawp at and a stomach filling diet,
Of bread and wine and spectacles before a baying crowd,
Soporific panaceas channelled the roars they were allowed.
But on Bulbaos’ house in Pompeii he wrote “Militat om nes”
Which in our simple modern tongue in an idiom he says
“I am just a lover but I know that I must fight”
His spray can was a chisel and he made his mark at night.
"… Already long ago, from when we sold our vote to no man, the People have abdicated our duties; for the People who once upon a time handed out military command, high civil office, legions — everything, now restrains itself and anxiously hopes for just two things: bread and circuses."
Juvenal AD100

-smiles that leave the sun looking like a light bulb in comparison, and eyes that leave the stars drowning
- sunny bus rides just to see a loved one accompanied with red lights for seconds of peace on the charcoal coloured, bumpy roads but safe travels nonetheless
- spring jackets that feel like home and colours that make the heart swell
- strangers that have the potential to be friends
- the best memories channelled in the back of a mind
- free flowing pens that write like walking on clouds
- sights along the way of flowers blooming
- possibilities of learning new things and new faces and new places
- suitcases that carry homes inside them
- books that carry knowledge, experience and let you feel the burn of new curiosity
- filled cafe spaces, menus, safety
- friendly chatter, scholarly chatter, best friend chatter

They'll tell you to listen to your heart like you have another option...
they'll insist on saying the answer dwells there
even when it's clear your heart is an empty place
with nothing but cracks bearing monstrous crevices
which leak away whatever little sense that finds its way there.
They'll implore you to stretch and strain the
stiff neck of your faith to the chest of the unfathomable,
and listen to the silent pulse of a fate far beyond the touch
of your feeble faith,something even a flexible python of hope can't do,
a thing even the Ostrich of optimism finds searing hurt doing.
They'll implore because they can't understand the depth
of the **** you've been through or smell its odourless pungent stink...
Because they lack the bravery to face your phantom,
to courageously plough through the pitch of the life you've endured,
because they lack the foresight to envision or
the mind's eye to see the invisible distance you have left to chew,
because they can't swallow even one spoonful of the bitter
mound of history you carry along on your journey to an uncertainty
you are not sure you'll reach... an illusive destination.
They'll tell you to listen to your heart because they lack
the ears of empathy to hear the deafening silence of the bangs of your doldrums...
neither do they have the wings to soar through the violent
winds of your despair or feet it takes to walk in your shoes...
they will speak with an orator's eloquence,stuttering
foolish words of wisdom because they are blank of how deep shards
of a broken heart can cut...they will implore you to be a man,
because they know a lot of nothing about being a man
one of which is men don't cry... they haven't been in presence
of the silent sobs of masculinity whose tears are buried
with dead hearts in the tombs of hypocrisy.
You'll hear very many voices for each splinter will speak for itself
but insistently and persistently they'll push you to the edge
of the cliff of your disarray ignorant of the star filled sky billion choices
twinkling on each glistening piece of the mirror like shards of your heart...
This they'll do because that's just what humans have been
channelled off course the river of true humanity to do...
tell you they've got your back so you can confidently
expose yourself to the deepest stub...boost your morales
so that you can stupidly climb to dizzying heights,
tell you they'll catch you only to film you jump to your hardest fall...
they'll promise to help you cleanse your dead just to see
whether you'll frown at their stench,and to curse
and mock in case you spit... they'll tell you that the path out of
your labyrinth is mapped across your heart simply to enjoy
seeing you wonder rudderless in the Sea of discombobulation...
Humans, they'll offer to circumcise you freely just to laugh at you
when you wince at the cruel touch of the blunt knife of their shameless daring...
they'll give you pills so they can mock at the difficulty
their bitterness brings at ingestion...
they'll tell you to listen to your heart like you didn't hear
your own jumbled heartbeat before you opted for their ugly opinions...
they'll say it, enjoying the moment and beautifully...
"your Heart knows it all" like you have another option besides your hurt.
and you will follow not because they said
but because you have no other boulevard to take

The new summer was here at long last
it was hot and dry.
No more thought of those winter days
that first cycle ride.
Into the shrinking countryside alone
nice to be on your own.

Finding a quiet lane inhaling the warm air
remembering your youth.
The population sparse villages small
you stop at a sign.
Leading to a footpath rising to a hill
a challenge to fulfil.


A faint humming boosts your senses
the moment to relax.
Easing the stresses of daily existence
and channelled thoughts.
A day of unknown futures everywhere
no time to prepare.

From that high point a panoramic spectacle
feeling like a god.
Looking down upon his flock from on high
lost and floundering.
With so much discord in his own creation
near to obliteration!

Disturbed by the thoughts of man's disintegration
making your way back.
Along the track from tranquillity into uncertainty
and dangers of living.
That short break giving you hope of a solution
to our total pollution!

Love,Respect,Care and Hope is this within us?

The Foureyed Poet.

Cool, dark steely shade surrounds elegant
icicles quietly shone upon by,
The quiet moon through the crisp, clear night air.
And so water does flow escaping the
white stillness, channelled by the glassy flakes,
Encroaching its misty path