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aishwarya iyer Apr 2012
In a world of extremeties,
I seem to be stuck in the middle.
I do not comprehend,
The yin or the yang,
When the heart, is left oblivious.
Moderation, has been an adventure,
Success, a distant season,
Excellence, an unattainable past,
Worthiness, lost in a crowd.
A mundane existence seems just that,
The paltry accounts even more so,
The spirit seems lost, trampled,
With the seemingly pointless strive, thrive?
Maybe Adam and Eve stole,
All the debuting thunder,
While Jane and Joe were left wondering,
If their existence was only to glorify,
The extremities and burden themselves,
With the painstaking eternal return.
Shofi Ahmed Jun 2020
Allah my dear Lord
everyone wishes me
happy birthday today
though I still ponder when
my mind was born, o my Lord
I wish to thank You nonstop!

I wonder when did You pen
my birth set my destiny on the flow.
Why then - I feel like I saw
the ocean floor was dry on that mo
that very one ocean making drop
didn’t dance, then it didn’t billow!

Maybe because once all that start
be on the move then take a pause
but I wish to thank You nonstop.

There are exceptions like I bumped on
in Your awesome varied creation.
There is one that lives on the grave can’t swallow
You created that endless love time ago
and wrapped in it my soul in the core.
I did my little splash - my debuting first go
rose over the rainbow but sways to a full stop.
Dwarf me now start to realise why the sea below
turns a stand-alone dewdrop on the rose!

Like a broken sleep in the middle of the night comes
the next moment with a broken dream only seen half
and all the memory goes lost with the unseen half.
The nightingale buzzed up singing on the new dawns
on my memory lane though was yet to bloom a rose!  

The first light paints heaven on earth so clement  
retouch it just to blow it onto the rose you can.
Shines a light on the move dip in the polished angle
picturesque beauty unleashes amid the day’s sunny show
one more punter basks in it gets two more eyeballs.
The cutie that was yet to pop in the shining galore
stays in the fence cutting all the corner gets in the loop
and the sun showers its balmy blue light on this Moon!

One world scattered across the board
deep in the water is a one connected dot.  
One endlessly variant one ever-fluid on diverse flow
embarked timeless time ago yet that's on the row.
Off to the half-seen dream my day lo
entering the twilight zone, it sets on the go.
Yet to live the mo, no rope no continual binary code
up to the dream when can I ever draw O my Lord!

Help me, when You do that I can see the magic
even when blowing the husk off a small seed
rainbow laces blow out opening the arch of blue sky
the small patch of land I touchdown turns to gold dust
what crosses in my mind then is any one’s lucky catch!

Eying on that endless love that took my dream away
Paradise the butterfly on its wings is ever on the fly.
Punting down the serene shadow of heaven all the stars
confluence for the final constellation on their highway
dwarf I though yet to act on the meaning of my dream
thanks to You let me share with those larks my script.
Wish comes true may their lips break into smiles
their sky wall keyhole to open stupendous painterly spirals.
Raise me high on the tangent dear Lord I am running dry
pour me Your potion of mercy in my dew splash sea of elixir
so I can break my fast sipping that o my Lord no one dies!
RING!!! RING!!!!
The sound before the hello
Ring ring ring
The expectation of the clueless heart
Anticipating the peace that is the Familiar
That Voice permanently engraved in the soul
The symbol of protection and safety
There it comes!!!!
BOOM!!!
The explosion of the heart
BOOM!!! BOOM!!!!!
The Aftermath of the impromptu silence
Just as the strange clear voice escapes the pink vase
Debuting its smashing hit single
It hits the drum when no one is listening for it
Calling out like a violent storm
Threatening to break up the boat on the once calm sea
Like a stowaway hiding in the basement
Only to be revealed by a run of luck.
                
©Belema.S.Ekine
judy smith Jun 2016
Paul Andrew, Scott Schuman, Anton Magnani, Frank Charriaut
Paul Andrew, creator of his eponymous line; Anton Magnani, chief executive officer of Sutor Mantellassi; The Sartorialist’s Scott Schuman, and Carvil artistic director Frank Charriaut packed into Colette on Saturday afternoon to debut their collections for fall.

“They’re very different,” said Sarah Andelman, creative director and purchasing manager of the Paris concept store. “The only thing they have in common is ‘made in Italy.’ You have the American brand, the Italian brand and the French. We don’t want shoes that are too classic. We’re trying to find our feet.”

Andrew was debuting his first shoe collection for guys during Paris Men’s Fashion Week. “Before I started my own brand four years ago, I designed shoes for 15 years for several other designers. I was doing men’s shoes for [Alexander] McQueen and later for Calvin Klein, so I have experience in men’s shoes and I loved it. I remember that time so fondly,” he said.

Colette stocks 12 men’s styles from his label. “This shoe, which may look like a classic shoe from the bottom, [actually has] four layers of leather to the sole, which makes it more aggressive, but still in a very refined way,” he explained, also pointing to sneakers bonded with neoprene and deer skin, “which is super luxurious leather – very light, but it’s also breathable.”

Following Colette, Andrew’s line will roll out to other stores, including Barneys.

Meanwhile, Magnani and Schuman presented their collab0ration — a chic sneaker style in four color ways.

“I really wanted to have something that would have interesting color combinations because, you know, I wear blue, gray, black, taupe a little bit [when it comes to clothes],” said Schuman. “I don’t wear like crazy colors. But for shoes you can do something a little more interesting.”

“Scott really came up with the good idea of making the stripes without seeing the stitch. You can see it’s all folded,” said Magnan, referring to the sneakers priced at 425 euros, or $471 at current exchange.

The duo just unveiled at Pitti Uomo spring 2017 styles, which are white but with “more summery color combinations,” explained Schuman.

Will the pair doing more collaborative projects? “We’re not just dating, we’re married for a little while. No Brexit between us,” Schuman said.

Charriaut presented his first collection for recently revived Carvil. “Carvil is a Parisian brand that was back in the day very chic and hip, for elegant men,” he explained.

Marc Jacobs, who was at Colette Saturday for the launch of Lorenzo Martone’s new eyewear range, purchased a pair of Carvil boots. Charriaut noted they were the style designed for Bob Dylan.

Meanwhile, downstairs at Colette, fans were lining up to get a signed copy of “Undercover Jun Takahashi,” published by Rizzoli. “There’s 25 years of history in it,” explained the designer.

The book, whose release comes following the retrospective dedicated to Takahashi at the Tokyo Opera City Art Gallery last October, is chockablock with his sketches, graphic work, pictures and essays. After a stint at the specialty store, the tome will roll out to bookshops in July. It’s priced at $65.Read more at: www.marieaustralia.com | http://www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses
Francie Lynch Dec 2016
New stars are debuting
On the galactic red carpet.
The IMAX night screens
The hand and foot print constellations
Illumed by the stage lights
In a heavenly theatre.
Shooting stars burned out
After their final take.
It's a wrap.
Leonard, Leon, Merle, Gene, Patty and a myriad of other favs have left us this year.
Hollis Jul 2019
My past life was not a rosy picture
Doors slammed on my face
My heart was closed, sealing in anxiety and PTSD

‘You can write, but you’re not what we’re looking for’
‘It’s not like you can’t sing, but you don’t fit in with the vision’
‘Cut your face and we’ll consider you for our company’

Just when did ‘pretty’ become the cutline for a person?
When did someone’s job only entail dancing and looking good for the cameras?
For a chance at debuting my words on a small screen, do I lower my dignity?
Never

With my voice alone, I know I’m worthy
My passion is an everlasting beauty
If being a flower shined in the spotlight means tearing out my roots, I’d rather be moss growing in the shade
Wherever my path leads, I’ll thrive. Every obstacle will be my foundation to climb to the top

My past life was not a rosy picture
Doors slammed on my face
My heart was closed, sealing in anxiety and PTSD

‘You can write, but you’re not what we’re looking for’
‘It’s not like you can’t sing, but you don’t fit in with the vision’
‘Cut your face and we’ll consider you for our company’

I miss the days when expectations weighed less than my looks
I’m forever anxious about all the things that I lack
Scavenger hunts have turned to road maps
No time to wander or discover hidden paths

Stay the course, eyes straight ahead,
Grow up if you want to get ahead
Are we there yet? Am I there yet?
When will I cross this finish line called success?

Have you seen my childhood?
My lost innocence and dreams?
I’m searching for that wonder that made everything gleam
Like jewels in a pirate’s chest or the stars in the Milky Way
I wish I can return to those carefree days
I wish I had never changed
Why did I have to change?

I remember a handsome evil man led me to a company one day
Promising me a fortune and all my wishes met
I was a blank sheet, was too innocent for this world
Stupidly I let myself in
In doing so, I also let my legs open and my heart stretched out
I flew higher than the sky, hoping for my dreams, only to be burned
Someone, please save me

Have you seen my childhood?
My lost innocence and dreams?
I’m searching for that wonder that made everything gleam
Like jewels in a pirate’s chest or the stars in the Milky Way
I wish I can return to those carefree days
I wish I had never changed
Why did I have to change?
I wrote this about my lost childhood and how much I keep wanting to turn back time.
Onoma Mar 2022
an uptown scarecrow debuting

downtown birds, browses convexo-

concave storefront windows for

a costume.

stuffed with a sun's harvest of fully

lost hair.

more unfamiliar than any creeping or

flying thing.

venturing into daylight, where one

image winces into the form of all

images thereafter.

an odd vengeance running out of

paint, still wet--yet dry.

as a mouth's penchant for words,

once uttered, forcing the most

well-adjusted hypocrite to situate

Self.

just when it is shown to its very own

space...things unravel.

— The End —