"fathima" poems
When you stepped in my door,
I realised I was Paradise
in my heart and soul.
You were so surefooted
because you came up from the high.
So long I longed for it.
O Fathima, only to kiss your feet!
The time was so sweet,
beyond anyone’s dream
only in pure beauty
I was rendering,
screaming to new highs.
I did it my way!
Lovely bouncing on
my polished pitch,
the rivers forget to flow
back to the seas.
But no one knew
where my toe melts!
Until you did
and took me for a tread
closer to your spring,
my sweet spot;
my sweet dream:
O Fathima, only to kiss your feet!
Your so pleased man wished
to rain down with love,
but humble you hid your feet!
You blinded the moon, snowed it
away under the seven seas.
No wonder it's
your winning footing.
Like the Prophet (PBUH) said:
I found me the heaven
beneath the mother’s feet.
O Fathima, only on your feet!
May 16, 2017
May 16, 2017 at 12:44 PM UTC
Shining upon the rose,
lovely, the sun rises
over the midday sky.
Without a second thought,
the brightest one steps forward,
bends an ear to the ground.
The Prophet Muhammad’s (PBUH)
wife was waiting.
He was walking his way home.
Maybe—or maybe not—
one revives from the death-sleep of night.
But hearing the sound
of the beloved’s foot returning,
one cannot die.
The blessed lady heard
the sound of a foot,
and was sure it was his:
“This is it—it’s the man, it’s him!
He is coming home.”
The sun is walking toward the rose;
it will show up
in no time.
Ah—but only to discover:
it was Fathima walking
to her father’s home!
She—a woman—
had the foot sound of the man,
the greatest of all!
The very one no other could imitate—
for he was the masculine original.
Because from the one,
the same circle came
the man and the woman—
maybe with a little gap,
spilling infinite pi decimals,
new days and new nights.
Still, all is but the show
of the one Moon and the one Sun.
Oct 16, 2017
Oct 16, 2017 at 5:41 PM UTC
The mother is first—
she is for all and down to earth.
She, the mother Fathima,
descended from uncharted Heaven—
that pivotal frontier
only the Prophet of all prophets has seen.
Then, there was no Adam, nor Eve, nor even Jibreel.
Every star across the seven skies
wishes to kiss that golden dust.
Not to mention the Moon at the center,
waning and waxing—openly and secretly—
unleashing its longing to rub
this non-sublunary piece against its forehead.
She knows—only then
the rough seas beneath her will calm,
bathed in the soft raining moonlight,
rubbing off upon a lucky, blossomed forehead.
Oh, if only—
scarcely could they ever see it!
The galaxies, since their inceptions,
have longed for it.
The bliss of the eyes—tucked away from the scene.
Paradise lies beneath the mother’s feet!
It finds its core, its resonant lore,
in the shadow of the original feminine—Fathima.
There, the original matter explored;
Paradise breathed beneath her—
but she touched down at the heart of the Earth
without stepping or touching on Paradise,
only to give her stake away to others.
No land she would take on her way back, indeed.
Not in her name.
Do you know where Fathima’s grave is?
Dec 28, 2017
Dec 28, 2017 at 4:01 PM UTC
Spring upon the rose and live on the flow—
delve into the fragrance that goes full tilt
on petals that never drift with the wind.
Let it be—without form,
without a visual show.
Let’s not forget the truth:
even in pitch-dark invisible moments,
the Moon puts up a show.
Believe it or not—around that sweet spot,
the artistic paragon, Paradise, may be the next stop.
The butterfly paradise slips out to fly,
wafting into the enduring scent of a paint so bold.
Lo—on its picturesque wings it holds every eye;
where it reaches, no one knows.
It’s on the other side of the pool—
only Queen Fathima knows that sweet spot!
Any pause is deadly, heavy-handed on that route.
Death is no more; it’s unknown now.
And time—ripe for beauteous sight—is on for good!
If only one can hold their gaze,
walking the secret alleyways of God!
Oh, they flower in the fire,
dip into the sea in a single drop of water,
and pan out to another world within this world.
This time, Moses resists not—
his eyes peep beyond the burnt Mount Sinai,
gazing through burnt kohl,
across the shaded pollens
of the Ultimate Burning Beauty!
When it’s live in the true terra incognita,
it could be beyond the paradise rainbow—
the one show the true seekers sought the most.
Before long, all the rest may fade into the kohl.
Godsent, the most beautiful feminine paragon—Fathima—
lifts the black screen off at once, casting her gaze
from every never-blurred, myriad fractal pixel.
All in all, even the never-known pi digits in toto
soak into the one true description of reality's show!
Be en route—
it’s only the chosen eyes’ wonder-show,
where the handsome swans of Paradise stand on their toes.
Mar 21, 2019
Mar 21, 2019 at 11:17 AM UTC
Every blue patch on the sky keeps an eye,
cherishing clouds dancing, hovering over.
The songs of deep blue ride the heady air,
only to be stunned, all of a sudden,
at the first sight—
sung down on a perfectly placed mural.
The Queen of Sheba tiptoes this way;
King Solomon leans to the ground,
only to find seas of silent blooms
musing, dipping in sun-kissed dews—
on gently tilted roses that will not fall,
not from this picture-perfect, navel-high!
Velvety, the rose rises from the ground;
the forever-green Earth hangs low,
in the dew on the rose that will not fall.
Blossoming, eyeing an acute high,
evermore hopeful to scale upward,
toward the faraway, awaiting heaven's pool.
There, the spotlight does not move—
neither north nor south, nor up nor down—
until Queen Fathima, the Queen of Heaven,
steps on the "as above, so below" slope.
There, the newly resurrected Earth will be primed,
its minted atoms vibrating beyond bounds,
rising, for the first time, atop the navel-high.
Perfectly wrapped, the atom's circle finally turns on—
the stepping stone that holds no pi-decimal hole.
Pure Scientia hangs on the door of Paradise,
awaiting the numerically perfect Queen Fathima to step.
God willing, she will work in beauty:
the most sought-after, perfect works of art—
the lost masterpiece, not in translation,
but hidden within the pi-decimal abyss of Earth's depth.
Lo, the gleaning Sleeping Beauty peeps,
trailing the role model Queen.
Fathima—the first woman to enter Paradise—
walks the walk: perfect, straight, numerically precise.
As if she always knew, back from the Earth,
of the murals ahead, hanging on Paradise’s wall,
mathematically exact!
Mirrors of imagination, new wonders on Heaven’s way,
etched in the murals at the golden section, navel-high.
She zooms past the ever-spinning atom’s perfect span,
cemented at the entrance of Paradise.
Yet leaves no footprint—
for she never did, even on the sublunary Earth.
A new wonder blooms in the classic old eyes:
oh, Pi, still irrational, still pondering,
at the measured, eternal navel-high!
Oct 31, 2018
Oct 31, 2018 at 5:02 PM UTC
Every atom is lenient towards the human being
streaming up from the deep root they spur
laying down the perfect descending of the stars.
They can take on the stellar in their deep club
that shows up opening the windows up in the sky
and down on to the earth cast their eyes!
The slim fit sharp atom knows all the shortcuts
constantly vibrating not a single star can catch nor will it ever
thin out – it has the extraordinary stroke of luck.
But the eyes are on the humans not over the amber.
Dreaming to be physically absorbed within the human being
to be in the human’s divine proportion ever transcendental
a far cry from the sun and the moon but with it both gel together!
Once they came so close almost touched the dream
they rose to the occasion, squaring the circle,
laser scanning through, as above so below, so humble.
Submitted them without waxing lyrical took the brush off
the colour bowl of the day then blindfolding the moon
in the night reached out to the paragon of the phi mania,
flawlessly made to measure, numerically perfect Fathima!
Presented themselves before her as pure blank
whereon she can jot like her chalkboard
or do as she please like she could show up
taking it as her shadow in silhouette, she exactly did that.
Touched down on the earth, in the veil
and revealed her as above so below.
The ocean moved stirred the water but none saw the sunshine
behind the full moon in bloom that steals the starry night.
Day in day out Fathima did all in a veil she lived and gone.
Keeping the atom on its toe ever honing tracing the footprint
in its own shadow as once a human being without a mark
crept in it lived in pi magic and leaped out!
Jan 7, 2019
Jan 7, 2019 at 10:53 PM UTC
The Feminine Core
Without it, Earth is no Earth.
I, Fathima—the primeval woman—have no doubt:
the circle of prophets is my witness—
I touched the bottom of her waters.
Zeroed into her zero-neigh,
circled it with my hair,
and laid down her foundation,
hardwired with my circle.
Sep 7, 2017
Sep 7, 2017 at 10:59 PM UTC
Zero is enduring
zero is deathless.
Nothing is up to it
none can mirror it
though forever
it's an open case.
The eyes are yet to
see an open face!
Because like it's
nothing is in perfect shape
purely a perfect circle!
Nothing matches it
as like Fathima is none else!
Ever more sprawling pi decimals
never go unnoticed propelling
to the end surge before her.
Before the original one
Fathima is yet to be mirrored.
All the planets turn circular
before the unseen perfect circle.
Fathima nails it snapped it up
circled it with her hair!
Before the furthest sighted eyes,
the dot at the earth's centre
at its pool of primitive water.
Fathima embeds in a loop of her hair
thus supercharges the water!
It finds the cut, the golden ratio,
constant continuity in her hair's inner flow.
And the Big Bang happened
there, their breakthrough!
The potential worlds to be
from the first drop of water
she gets them all buzzed out.
From down the rock bottom,
from the zero null
Fathima finds and raises the sun!
Nothing is comparable to it on the ground
nor up on the high, we only see the fire
of a heavenly phenomenon is beyond the sight!
Jan 27, 2019
Jan 27, 2019 at 12:06 AM UTC
The world is small even heaven isn't big
but an uncreated Word is,
an expression of love and promise!
The tale of the beginning
the tale of the end without the ending.
Soon God said it 'Qun' be
bang it couldn't be bigger indeed.
Everything small and big the complete
creations panache came to be so big!
The body is small the soul came in the front
and every soul big banged in one go.
All heard the same Word it was only one
that sets the tone for the first to the last
so sweet it took everyone’s heart!
The death wouldn’t touch the soul
that already died but couldn’t die.
Revived there and then instantly,
hearing the 'Qun' the uncreated melody!
Crooned up even through the dead-end
surged up to the other side of the black hole.
Like a waxing Moon passed over, crossing
the asleep body in the shadow, yet in the making!
Unable to resist it, the first big bang
didn’t happen amidst the material entity
not in the star, milky way or in the galaxy.
Adam was yet to be in the body
the physical ear was yet to hear it!
Unlike the tuned in abyss soul there
that harks and the clouds rise and rain
only to revert back to the sea
showering the shallow terraqueous body.
He said ‘Qun’ again and the first physical big bang
on the matter takes place in Fathima’s joint
interlacing her live soul and pre-design body.
It cuts through the irrational pi in between
the soul and body so that gel in melody!
With pure love without a condition
that shall keep up perpetuating the body!
Nature that was yet to be, gets a mirror in its entirety
and bangs big hearing an echo of ‘Qun’ be, says the Almighty
it comes to be and shall perish only to be an eternal body!
Aug 12, 2018
Aug 12, 2018 at 10:27 PM UTC
When you walked on me
I was groovy,
I was the rose of the spring:
everyone’s sweetie!
Your little earth down the upside-
down sky was the centrepiece!
Not anymore, I don’t want to be.
O Fathima, don’t go without me,
don’t go to heaven without me!
Without you I melt away,
burning my spine:
you know the reason why.
I passed my song down to you.
Pour it down to river, to the sea,
do as you please,
but don’t leave me.
O Fathima, don’t go without me!
I touched my dream
when you touched me,
I bent with paradise
like a flower bends in the breeze.
You said sway with ease.
(Choir, voices of women:
Every night did the moon flower,
million stars spurred far afar.
We were closer than two hairs)
I let you paint yours on shades of me.
I became you, you became me.
No one is sure where your
grave is no one can see.
O Fathima, don’t go without me!
Sep 4, 2018
Sep 4, 2018 at 10:44 AM UTC
The sun was so close to
the fingertips of the earth mother
while the rose bloomed so bright
the first morning the sun rose on the earth.
The sun spaced up high up to the blue sky
so the colour of the rose may not wither.
The mother Fathima smiled even brighter
upon the rose, the sun draws back every sunrise
is ever closer till to date a colour never withers!
Feb 15, 2019
Feb 15, 2019 at 1:10 AM UTC
Pi, at the end of its endless decimals' grandeur,
meets a human being—who holds a mirror!
Until now, the number, knowing only sway,
has been lost in discovery’s polished way.
No more: it begins—on a human—in front of its eye.
Patterns and unique precision, patternless waves,
new math tides soar, pivot at the cosmos' height,
only to bag the ultimate truth:
Fathima—the first spiritual woman—mooned there first!
Fathima steps forward where nature falls behind,
across the dead end, the irrational chasm she strides.
For the cosmos' deep mind, Earth, the ocean is but a drop;
the rope to the top is the lead—the feminine Fathima’s lock!
Raw Fathima moves; in shadow, nature follows,
clustering atoms span between the two,
only to witness her encrypted, secured fashion—
intact, uncharted, yet fully functioning,
in Makkah and Medina, while she lived.
The red fairies at midday’s spot-on,
the black swans arching rainbows in wonder—
marvel how Fathima deduces, straw by straw,
the maestros’ dream of ascension,
potion-polished, taking Ma pauses in liminal crescendos,
between past and future, here and hereafter—a circular duo.
Limning out chiaroscuro in light and shadow—
nothing like it exists, in plain sight or the world in toto!
Rainbows shaded in, sparking out,
the scent of roses in her veiled black hair:
the cosmos anew glinting off her edge,
deeper quintessence than dark matter!
The blueprint, the intelligent pre-design, rests in her elements.
The breakthrough exponent—hidden in her eyes.
Yet beyond the masses’ gaze,
she remains Zahra—light upon the original way.
Truly, only one feminine form has reached across
the other end of the cosmos' endless highway,
zooming past nature’s hidden gems—the irrational Pi,
the complex chasm—a mathematical goldmine.
Beyond the masses’ eyes and their painted canvases,
shine the daylight and the glowing fireflies of the night.
Viva Mankind! Fathima is the Moon at the highest high!
Dec 12, 2021
Dec 12, 2021 at 11:53 PM UTC
Adorable Angelina
Accepted Anchoring
At Academia,
Acute Angelina
Achieved Anchoring
Award And
Amazed Abundantly,
Angel Angelina
Always Added
Active Authoritative,
Awesome Angelina
Achieved Anchoring
Ambitions Avidly.
__Fathima Ruhee__
Jul 10, 2019
Jul 10, 2019 at 5:40 AM UTC
Hey cheeky Teddy Bear!
Did they call you fat?
No, You aren't baby,
You have a wonderful warmth,
The earth looks beautiful
Through your warmth that hugs
Souls with Love and feelings..
Little Doughnut you aren't fat,
You are curvy
& Chummy Chum.
Sweet little potato
Smile a loads
Yes! You are
A Chum chum Plumy Doll.
__Fathima Ruhee__
Aug 15, 2019
Aug 15, 2019 at 1:19 PM UTC
Queen Fathima—the Queen of Heaven—
tones down her rose-red color,
lending nature a cool spark.
Boom—it fires up the Big Bang!
So she shades her hue,
puts on her black niqab,
so that in her shadow, nature may flower.
Now the full-blown Scientia—nature itself—
is beyond every hand’s touch,
every eye's full grasp,
yet forever searching
for their Queen—everywhere.
Oct 15, 2020
Oct 15, 2020 at 11:18 PM UTC
She yelled to her voice
Drunk to her eyes
Slipped to her thighs,
She sung to the skies
Danced with thrives
To light up many smiles,
She walked with fears
Ran with tears
To make paths clear,
Today do we shine
In our beautiful lifeline
Through her blood and sweat that signed.
__Fathima Ruhee__
@inking__scribbler
Aug 7, 2019
Aug 7, 2019 at 3:06 PM UTC
God before penning the very first word in the book of creation
He knew the last that reflected in inking the very first drop
composing the bottom line that gravitates every creation.
In the know so much so what was yet to be He could call on
indeed assembled all the future humans on the Day of Alast
when He asked ‘Am I not your Lord?’ Yes, we said aloud.
Responded to Him long, long before our physical birth!
The whole shebang was in the beginning in the first set out
Bounce before the Big Bang the number zero before that
and within its circle was a marvelous exponent the pi
constantly pops up with the reasons to be alive!
The first creations were even before all of that
Foundation was laid the stone is a man and woman
indifferent grounds sprawled the eternity in between
that embraces the two with its endless varied beauty
making them truly the distinguished two for the one reality!
God made them with love from the bottom of the heart
Oh the bottom is nectar and more so the rose in bloom
embraces a sweeter debut flowering off a honeyed bud
God's ink flows, the sweetest ocean bellows, from the start
and to the end, all that heard it mellifluous!
Before the cloud basks in the blue dancing in the air
then rains down in serene melodies bedews the atmosphere.
Oh the all transparent ocean of God's first drop of ink goes viral
Fathima rises from the midst, the first spiritual woman swims out,
sipping every drop of this potion ‘there is more’ she clamoured
The begins the end yet no end God’s first creations triumph!
Nov 26, 2019
Nov 26, 2019 at 10:21 AM UTC
My life is beautiful, a canvas wide,
Painted with colors that coincide
.Each stroke of joy, each hue of pain
, A masterpiece born from sun and rain.
The mornings whisper with golden light
"Everything is good and dreams are the light"
Each laughter makes me proud as the sun
Each tear makes me happy as the rain run
Through shadowed paths and skies so blue ,I find my strength, my heart stays true.
From every shadow, light will rise,
Through every doubt, hope never dies.
Your life is as beautiful as mine.
.............................................MI. Fathima Asna
Dec 5, 2024
Dec 5, 2024 at 7:29 AM UTC
Princess Honey
You are my destiny,
I am ready to carry
My cute little fairy,
Sweet Angel baby
You are my only ectasy,
For you I guarantee
I'll give your life a meaningful melody,
Baby this is gonna be reality
I promise you from the bottom of world's gravity,
I am gonna love you endlessly
Through hugging & kissing you Mentally,
Darling You are my final story
Where ends my life's beautiful destiny.
__Fathima Ruhee__
Jun 23, 2019
Jun 23, 2019 at 9:11 AM UTC
Stunning souls
Marvelous are you,
You are strong and
that's the reason
you are here
Holding a beautiful heart.
__Fathima Ruhee__
@inking__scribbler
Aug 11, 2019
Aug 11, 2019 at 4:42 PM UTC
Little Magic tree
Within you comes Glamouring fairy,
Every time I see
Your Blissful leaves falling to me
I feel Very happy,
With you belongs the key
Of souls That is to be free,
Fabulous Magic tree
I fall to you on my knee
Please don't stop being so Adorable Pretty,
Little Magic Tree
Filled with angel fairy
I love you through my artery.
__Fathima Ruhee__
Jul 3, 2019
Jul 3, 2019 at 1:34 PM UTC
Dear lovely
Poet, Poetess,
Words & papers
That belongs to you,
Ink & pen
That's made for you,
You write what you love
We read what you write,
Your experience writes
& our love reads,
You are born a consolidator
To all broken souls here,
Miraculous is you
& Miracle are your words,
Go On with your fabulous fingertips that inks
Countless inspirational papers
Even when pen doesn't ink..
__Fathima Ruhee__
Jul 8, 2019
Jul 8, 2019 at 11:45 AM UTC
Live Luxury
Like,
Love Licked
Lips Locked.
__Fathima Ruhee__
© inking__scribbler
Aug 2, 2019
Aug 2, 2019 at 3:36 PM UTC
Rain Drops
Flip Flop,
Dum-Da-Dum
Thunders the sky,
Clouds Meet
One Another
Closer Together,
Creation Of
Love Begins,
Then comes their child Lightening
The World Brightening,
Dear Family Rain,
Live Happily
Before Sun Arrives.
__Fathima Ruhee__
Jul 19, 2019
Jul 19, 2019 at 6:51 AM UTC
***
He gave me a pill of energy
To recover my self from dark allergy,
Though he was a doctor of my love biology
He was my best love strategy,
I fell for his love numerology
Through conversing new love technology,
I call him my love criminology
For he made me fall through his love psychology,
Through his pill of energy
I became his life's edgy.
__Fathima Ruhee__
May 27, 2019
May 27, 2019 at 5:19 AM UTC