The Fabric Of Pace-I’m Continuum

Tongues distilled from the wombs of hot honeycomb
Chilled by unseen cool spring streams
Of evening’s darkening touch of velvet veil
They lay in huddled heaps like prized thoughts of a diarist
A boudoir of spontaneous natural intimacy that could be crushed with satisfaction
To cook compost for next year’s life
Yet in the craving grid of that fisherman’s net
Bulged by mass of leaf
I saw how telescopes were but creaking distractions… 

"... They lay in huddled heaps like thoughts of a diarist A boudoir of spontaneous natural intimacy that could be crushed with satisfaction..."

“… They lay in huddled heaps like thoughts of a diarist
A boudoir of spontaneous natural intimacy that could be crushed with satisfaction…”

Photography & Poetry: © Masufa Khatun | Mazzy Khatun Photo Stories | My Garden | Winchester | UK 2015

 

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The Fugitive Of Your Desire

An A-MAZ-ING Afterword To my consistently attentive Reader – and Mr You ♥ 

If You are in England or Europe tonight – or have the highly suspect capacity to intercept British airwaves from another part of the planet – then You are in for a lavish treat of intergalactic significance! The BBC have revealed that tonight in aid of our Nation’s most beloved charity – CHILDREN IN NEED – as touchingly symbolised by Pudsey, the yellow TEDdy bear with one eye, Dr Watson of Sherlock fame will attempt to emulate the ways of the Force, the Jedi Mind Trick to be precise, to detect my exact whereabouts! Giggle, giggle! I provide the link below!

A hearty thank you to Destiny for listening to the Voice of my Words and recruiting the services of the BBC to bring them to life, all so for a very GOOD cause that brings New Hope to the most fabulous people on earth, the Children… ♥

Watson, I admire You more than ever for Your never walking away from a Great Puzzle!
Eternally Your Mazzy xxx

LINK: http://www.radiotimes.com/news/2015-11-13/martin-freeman-feels-the-force-in-star-wars-children-in-need-sketch

I am the scientist’s enigma and the religious man’s quandary
I paint over white shirts, their staidness unresolved by laundry
Always behind You and yet one step ahead
Crumbling the Ego to cluck as like a Rhode Island Red
Premonitions are my faculty, after all it is a kind of remembering
Remembering from the future, why, is Your Logic dismembering?
And such is my finesse – I wear a smug grin as I lean back to sip my tea
All the while, two daring detectives, are no where near to catching me…

P.S. Study the note carefully, it shall be of extreme significance at a later date… ♥

The Fugitive Of Your Desire..

“And such is my finesse – I wear a smug grin as I lean back to sip my tea
All the while, two daring detectives, are no where near to catching me…!”

Image & Poetry: © Masufa Khatun | Mazzy Khatun Photo Stories | Winchester | UK 2015

This Is Red Leader, Do You Copy?

Though I was sat on the bench this evening watching the sun set down in the west
My pomegranate jewelled heart doused in excitement, the fire inside me blessed
I do not care if geek is what the world calls me, but truly, how can one keep it in
Today my gang and I laid eyes on Star Wars, a tidal rose scents my skin
And no matter which way I look, the nostalgia of the saga gloriously seethes through
I cannot tell if that was a bird or the Millennium Falcon that trailed in twilight’s blue
Oh, and the garden, a terrestrial citrus circus of surprises in the fading light not so sloppy
For the Red Cosmos flower induced my Voice to call out, “This is Red Leader, do You copy…?”  ♥

This Is Red Leader, Do You Copy?

Oh, and the garden, a terrestrial citrus circus of surprises in the fading light not so sloppy
For the Red Cosmos flower induced my Voice to call out, “This is Red Leader, do You copy…?”

Photography & Poetry: © Masufa Khatun | Mazzy Khatun Photo Stories | My Garden | Winchester | UK 2015

My Granny Nordic Jumper Arrives!

My incuriousness and aloofness for self-portraits is well known across the lands
Selfie and selfie-sticks viciously inflate my tonsil glands!
So what criminal contradiction is this? Am I not parading my face today?
On the contrary my Dear Watson, from your presumptions come away
It is the blue puree of wool, serrated sunbeam on my chest that I wear
Gift from my bossy little sister that I heartily wished to share
With You on this charcoal-grey day in England to prove once and for all
The Voice of sunshine lives in Spirit, that Great Silent Music Hall… :))

My Granny Nordic Jumper Arrives!

“It is the blue puree of wool, serrated sunbeam on my chest that I wear
Gift from my bossy little sister that I heartily wished to share..”

Photography & Poetry: © Masufa Khatun | Mazzy Khatun Photo Stories | Winchester | UK 2015

The Song Of The Berries By My Home

A Very Merry Berry Fabric Of Pace-I’m Continuum: An Afterword!

I am indulging in a brief pit-stop home and thus thought it timely that I could make a decisive contribution in the cure to reverse that horrid influenza of boredom, listlessness and enervation of hope that appears to have clasped onto Your normal cheery self. But before I commence any further on this note I am compelled to speak of the terrible news of the tragic plane crash that occurred in the Sinai desert and that was burnt into cinders, innocence tossed into deathly fires. Word reached of it to my ears yesterday and I prayed to my Creator last night for the souls of the departed and for the families who must now live with the irreplaceable loss of their most cherished ones.

In the heart of the Middle Lands, Mount Sinai, as according to biblical accounts, had once violently come down upon it thunderous lightning, the plummet of terrifying fires and the thickest and blackest and darkest of smoke and mist. Yet is it not so that the intensity of power evoked and embedded in these words of mine pale in mindless insignificance to the loss of lives that we hear of today?

It is said that Moses had once upon a time returned from that desert mountain, holding in his arms with renewed determination the tablets – medicine for the Spirit – on which carved were WORDS destined to help the people to transform into better and more wholesome versions of themselves. To those of the modern sensibility, consider its idealised effect tantamount to a WINDOWS UPDATE, A WHOLE NEW WORLD!

When my WORDS are imitated or copied out of vanity or to satisfy egocentric purposes then you risk deviating from your true Destiny. It is then that your ‘blue monkeys’ become the proponents of flammable rage, your ‘blue mountains’ become as graves, your ‘Light’ the tongue of explosions, in effect you toss your own precious self-integrity into the fire. To those who know who they are, I pray you shall forge your own path.

Today, I, Your humble seamstress and Enantiodromia of the Pen, wish to dispel this air of shadows and mist clinging like the creepy and clinging cobwebs of Halloween and to this end I wished with all my Soul for Destiny to display a little show of Good Magic, something that would make You smile tremendously because it re-affirmed the WORDS of a New Hope that this 5ft 1 Red Leader of Yours has always maintained. WATCH this viral but curative video from the WRAP website of how, on a day marred by tragedy and the macabre darkness of Halloween, I sent a whiff of the PERFUME OF THE DESERT, a RED FABRIC OF PACE-I’M CONTINUUM, that goes a little faster than a SNAIL I do care to admit, scooting through the streets of a noisy city of a NAMELESS SEDUCTIVE POPULACE where I do believe a certain Magic Box is forever waiting for me… :)) :)) :))

Oh my, You are on Your knobbly knees, pleading to me as to how I accomplished such an audacious feat? As per the original poem, the blaze of the secret would require You to make an once-in-a-lifetime adventure to my Home… ♥

Please do look after one another. I shall return soon with a sackful of new stories blessed with the warmest spices of the hearth and the deepest laughter moonlit from the chambers of the good heart.

Eternally Yours,
Mazzy xxx

LINK TO A-MAZ-ING VIDEO: http://www.thewrap.com/aladdin-magic-carpet-ride-nyc-stunt-jesse-wellens-casey-neistat/

Black-green forest mesh of spikes, dark matter of holly
It peeked through thick bars, a desire to show my Vision
That it was not a creature of solemn, crepuscular design

Red.
Red defiant!
Bright, ten thousand waxed orbs of dominance
Heartbeat threads of a Persian carpet, rare and enchanted
Infinity surely tossed, coiled and exhausted within these nameless seductive populace
And I thought hard about the decency of taste that must hide
Inside that explosion of winter’s foetal expression

Someday I shall bring my Love here, before this alter of red balloons
To show him the blaze of the secret, how Real Poetry works… :))

“Someday I shall bring my Love here, before this alter of red balloons
To show him the blaze of the secret, how Real Poetry works…”

Photography & Poetry: © Masufa Khatun | Mazzy Khatun Photo Stories | Winchester | UK 2015  

Tune Into Joy – An Ode To Maya Angelou!

I know why the Free Bird sings
With a joyous thrill
Of a True Love unmet
But longed for still
And Alex’s T-Shirt caught his tune
He wishes to meet me, with tea and spoon
‘V’-shaped wings flap out on both sides
An ‘X’ in the middle to show Winchester hides
On this distant hill
By the windowsill
For I am the Free Bird, I joyfully sing
Even in the depths of night, my Pen lingering

To my Eternal Love… ♥ ♥ ♥ 

"... And Alex’s T-Shirt caught his tune He wishes to meet me, with tea and spoon ‘V’-shaped wings flap out on both sides An ‘X’ in the middle to show Winchester hides..."

“… And Alex’s T-Shirt caught his tune
He wishes to meet me, with tea and spoon
‘V’-shaped wings flap out on both sides
An ‘X’ in the middle to show Winchester hides…”

Photography & Words: © Masufa Khatun | Mazzy Khatun Photo Stories | Winchester | UK 2015

A Trip To Long Barn Lavender Farm With Agnes & Suzi!

As is the sparkling tenacity of the humble spider to thrust out glittering and webbed lifelines to create the opportunity of acquiring new fruits, so it is that I believe the natural world, with pristine elegance, flings its invisible webs onto me, tying onto and pulling in my beating heart towards it so that I may lose myself in the ceaseless bounties of its sensual wonders. Having parted from my car many, many years ago and in its stead choosing to walk, plus complimented with my love for gardening, I am an excitable witness to the extraordinary ballet of the changing seasons. Often jumping up and down with the sprightly eagerness of a little girl as I rush about to announce to everyone that I have spotted the delicate petals of the first white snowdrop flower, the hopeful symbol of the cessation of winter and the dawn humming of spring, I have always been fascinated by the connection I share with Mother Nature. How to tell You of the countless times of how the observation of the hoppy red-breasted robin or the deep crimson eyes of holly berries put a merry skip in my step, desperate to put into words of what was seen into my diary entry for the day, how could one ever be tired of the natural world?! Lambs being born, chestnuts swaying in crisp autumn air and the heady scent of bonfires in November, I cannot be kept away from the stunning drama that continuously weaves in front of me when I step out of my front door. Magic is never more than an arm’s length away, if only – yes, if only – You are acrobatic of mind and willing to believe in it.

To this end, I invite You to my latest short-as-a-short-biscuit adventure! Can You guess the loudness of the fanfare that shook my ears to a happy jelly when my friend, Suzi, told me that she was going to take me and our mutual mate, Agnes, down to the Long Barn Lavender Farm in Alresford for a snippy pampering break away from our busy lives! Indeed, I WAS IN SEVEN HEAVEN!!!

Traditionally renowned for its medicinal properties as a calming herbal sedative, aiding restful sleep and soothing the nerves of those feeling a tad bit frayed, Lavender is one of my favourite flowers in the botanical world and I am pleased to say that I grow two varieties in my own garden from which I concoct handmade lavender and camomile teas, a perfect brew to be enjoyed iced in the summer or as a steamy beverage for when the long, cold, winter nights draw in, a perfect tipple just before bedtime. Should You ever come and visit me in my house I promise to host You with these delicious specimens – and will even pop a hand-sewn tiny sachet of lavender flowers in Your pocket to invoke calmness in times of difficulty.

It is a mild and tranquil fragrance and a most beloved friend in the floral kingdom. When we arrived I could make out its pleasant scent even before my visual faculties had a chance to make contact, as if the soul of something sublime and mysterious and yet familiar had leapt out of its physical cage to greet me! Wreaths of heart-shaped bundles of the flower and wide fields of its purple canopies opened up its pages before me, a profoundly exotic impression. I grew its relative in modest amounts back home, but here on the farm it was different. A Mecca of swaying purple heads, each a little pupil of scent that vied for my attention. I was humbled, terribly and beautifully humbled.

That is exactly the reason why, with majestic application of discipline, I refused to photograph any of the lavender flowers. Photography cannot impart the ecstasy that binds the olfactory domain, it must be felt in person otherwise You risk losing its authenticity to an unfair demotion. All three of us simply breathed in the sweetness of the earthly-bound purple clouds and vibrantly chatted over lavender tea, conveniently stratified with moist rich raspberry and lemon drizzle cake whilst wistfully looking out over fields and fields of floral spells that surely, in such vast quantities, I imagined to have the power to enchant an eternal sleep of peace for whomsoever fell into her heavenly scented bosom.

HOWEVER, photography was not strictly dismissed!

Whilst I was at Long Barn my aura was drawn to the energies of a few intriguing features that I believe are strongly of relevance or correlation to my beloved Reader. There is one particular Reader I wish to dedicate this story to, whom I saw in my dream last night – he handed me a gift that was messily but lovingly wrapped in purple, it was followed by a warm and wholesome hug that saw me waking up this morning with a smile that tasted accurately of the beauties of all the four seasons. For You today, allow me to profuse Your tired and weary Soul with the healing needles of a treasured purple flower… :)) :)) :))

Your Eternal Seamstress Of Pen & Flowers,
Mazzy xxx

“Ask a sincere gardener the magical ingredients that lie behind the wonderful theatre of lushness and growth that sees seeds turn into flowers and they will speak of the basic potions of Light, water and food, but then will edge closer and touch Your arm and, in an assured whisper, reveal that those things simply lend height and girth; only Friendship, the truest and unweatherable kind, will add an impossibly incomprehensible depth of colour, the God-hand whom painters tirelessly seek…”   

“It is absurd a misconception that one needs muscles – sorry – mussels to ride my favourite wheel-eyed invention, and for those of You suffering an abominable ‘total black out’ at the mind’s horizon, may I ardently suggest that, like the quirky example I am, You ought to pack Your bags and go off trotting, though by that I do not mean shifting from country to country. To see in Orange Vision You must brave new worlds, some of the most perilous frontiers do not exist on maps, they perniciously inhabit within us…”

“It is absurd a misconception that one needs muscles – sorry – mussels to ride my favourite wheel-eyed invention, and for those of You suffering an abominable ‘total black out’ at the mind’s horizon, may I ardently suggest that, like the quirky example I am, You ought to pack Your bags and go off trotting, though by that I do not mean shifting from country to country. To see in Orange Vision You must brave new worlds, some of the most perilous frontiers do not exist on maps, they perniciously inhabit within us…”  

“Like the festive mistletoe under which a kiss wanted is a kiss granted, inside the farm’s wooden-beamed barn, I secretly smiled under the lightbulb and wished that my Soulmate could leap through space and time and meet me at this spot. Dear ‘Paddington’, should You be reading this know that we do not have to wait for Christmas to exchange a kiss, any light fixture would be happily obliging to act as an intermediary, a hanging ball of sweet Orange marmalade to watch us as we bind lips together…”

“Like the festive mistletoe under which a kiss wanted is a kiss granted, inside the farm’s wooden-beamed barn, I secretly smiled under the lightbulb and wished that my Soulmate could leap through space and time and meet me at this spot. Dear ‘Paddington’, should You be reading this know that we do not have to wait for Christmas to exchange a kiss, any light fixture would be happily obliging to act as an intermediary, a hanging ball of sweet Orange marmalade to watch us as we bind lips together…”  

“I bought two items from the barn shop: Scented candles are a staple property of the ambience of my home in the long winter months, I light them from early evening until bedtime, often writing by their Light and whenever my eyes catch sight of its thin wispy flame I am reminded, with poetic fluency, that even in the most impenetrable depth of night, children of the Sun are by my side to guide my writing hand through the snow forests of white paper. The second of the items I saw in a dream, given to me by a Loving hand – he was terrible at wrapping but it was his inadequacy and effort that made it altogether more priceless…”

“I bought two items from the barn shop: Scented candles are a staple property of the ambience of my home in the long winter months, I light them from early evening until bedtime, often writing by their Light and whenever my eyes catch sight of its thin wispy flame I am reminded, with poetic fluency, that even in the most impenetrable depth of night, children of the Sun are by my side to guide my writing hand through the snow forests of white paper. The second of the items I saw in a dream, given to me by a Loving hand – he was terrible at wrapping but it was his inadequacy and effort that made it altogether more priceless…” 

“And, here is that mystery object which was concealed inside the wrapping. A square tea coaster bearing the charming illustration of someone whom I have an undying affection for rests on my bookshelf; I shall reserve Your own interpretative faculties to absorb the timelessness of the message…”

“And, here is that mystery object which was concealed inside the wrapping. A square tea coaster bearing the charming illustration of someone whom I have an undying affection for rests on my bookshelf; I shall reserve Your own interpretative faculties to absorb the timelessness of the message…”

Photography & Words: © Masufa Khatun | Mazzy Khatun Photo Stories | Long Barn Lavender Farm | Alresford | UK 2015

My New Writing Journal Arrives!

Hurrah, hooray it is National Poetry Day on the tiny green isle of the UK
And buy did I my new journal today, to heal my Readers far faraway!

A deep, flaky, chocolate bark pushes out of a lush tropic-leafed carpet
Rain-kissed emerald cloud puffs out on top, freedom minus parapet
Bellbirds, Firebirds, Finches swoop-slide, heartbeats fast, bright colours a-smile
Hear Mother Earth sing, her zest of Life a phoenix dream to bedazzle, beguile
And creatures of this first morning brush, from every corner of this teeming paradise
Gather in shrilly party to Tree Of Knowledge, no Devil lurks here in coiling disguise
For we Poets pen our every word in honeyed-remembrance of Pure Spirit and God
Seek we do not fame or fortune, to give flight to Art is a prayer, an applaud

Hurrah, hooray it is National Poetry Day on the tiny green isle of the UK
And buy did I my new journal today, to heal my Readers far faraway… :)) :)) :))

“Hurrah, hooray it is National Poetry Day on the tiny green isle of the UK
And buy did I my new journal today, to heal my Readers far faraway…”

Photography & Poetry: © Masufa Khatun | Mazzy Khatun Photo Stories | My Home | Winchester | UK 2015

My Home: A Tepee Of Lovable Curiosities!

It just so happens that in recent times I have been the most fortunate victim of the crime of mistaken age! With the influx of new students and new friendly faces that have come into my circle since the start of the academic year I have seen repetitive occurrences of the rib-tickling and highly amusing phenomenon of people misjudging my actual biological age! A 5ft 1 hobbitina who is heading towards her fruity forties, I do appreciate that those of vertically challenged height tend to be perceived upon first acquaintance as of an age much younger than they are, however, and for Your entertainment, I should point out that I have been categorised over and over again as a ‘young lady of 24 years and not more’ at a frequency that quite frankly stupefies the respected domain of statistical thought! So, what on collywobbles is going on here?!

Why am I not ageing properly like all the other children that were born in 1978?!

Well, it is obvious isn’t it? Because I still think like a child! I have a fond hall of predecessors I am told: Einstein, Carroll, C.S. Lewis and Tagore to name a few!

To edify my utterly-butterly wacky theory I spent a little of my free time today scooting and scouring around my home for deliciously pertinent photographic evidence, seeking out the visual and spatial resonances within my eccentric tepee of absurd but lovable curiosities that are, in essence, wild and unabashed confirmations of who and what I am and will always be. The home is a fantastical receptacle, a time capsule of collections and exhibits that stand as the physical vocal chords of our internal world of consciousness. It does not take one to be an eminent psychologist to figure that relationship out. In our strive to learn about who we are, we pull forth the seedlings – the entities, ideas, beliefs, philosophies – that take root in the invisible forest of our soul to subsequently plant them in our external universe, and what we then see can act as a reinforcement, affirmation and, in equal measure, provide the singular catalyst to re-evaluate the drama unfolding everyday within us.

Look around Your home today or tonight and take time to ponder what it tells about You – what are YOU telling Yourself about You? Oh, and if You have a wonky toilet seat scenario or excessive window putty to seal in the draft then, my Beloved Reader, do not frazzle and frizzle with apprehension the size of a walrus’ bottom because You believe it to be synonymous with stage 5 mental breakdown, instead, treat Your visual inspection with a hint of humour. How? Well, a chipped teacup is not the end of the world, is it? I tend to re-use them as pot holders for nursing new seeds!

Ladies, Gentlemen and my adorable fellow Children! Please laden Your hand with a cup of your most prized tea – chipped or pristine it does not matter, as You enter some of the little corners of my home that shall tell You the story of the Eternal Child that happily, wildly, faithfully lives inside me… :)) :)) :))

Teepee Of Curiosities A

“A snow-white desk screaming to be painted over, or should one consider it as a nude tabula rasa wickedly ripe in its design for stimulating the cogwheels of the imagination? Our dear Audrey never dissents to whatever interpretation I come up with on the day, but she wishes I hadn’t placed the candle in front of her, she is forever having to strain her neck to spy on my movements! For enthusiastic diarists out there, pay heed to Mr Wilde’s wise words!”

Tepee Of Curiosities B

“Splayed across a Japanese fan’s concertina surface are vivid splashes of cobalt blue as Hokusai’s ‘The Great Wave’ incarnates in miniature on the cabinet top, illogically juxtaposed with the ever- flatulent ‘Pumba’ the warthog who models a prom tiara whilst my panda lantern takes to wistful thoughts!” 

Tepee Of Curiosities C

“Business calendars bore me to stiff death so here we’ve opted to celebrate Tove Jansson’s adorable ‘Moomin’ world every month – the October Moomintroll appears to be singing karaoke into his tail! Little wonder the tourists frenziedly evacuated from the grounds of the Eiffel Tower!”   

Tepee Of Curiosities D

“Roald’s Dahls’ ‘Fantastic Mr Fox’ dug himself out of the tunnels underground and is currently enjoying the hiatus on the wall alongside ‘Matilda’ and ‘Mr Wonka’. I do think it rather chivalrous that amid all this frivolity, ‘Dorothy’, ‘Tin Man’ and the ‘Scarecrow’, who can be seen at the bottom, remain ever determined to travel down the winding ‘Yellow Brick Road’. You never know where it will lead You and that is precisely why one must get onto it! Hurry along now!” 

Tepee Of Curiosities E

“In its previous lifetime this fine bone china milk jug was part of a formidable set at the ‘Mad Hatter’s Tea Party’, grasped by fingers whose tastes were as exquisite as an Indian Maharaja’s, suddenly it was struck by a chip at its base one day and it was callously ordained to be disposed. In came I, Alice, with an ingenious argument for preservation: Tea may slip by a chipped portal but pens and brushes could do with the extra ventilation!”

Photography & Words: © Masufa Khatun | Mazzy Khatun Photo Stories | My Home | Winchester | UK 2015

In Ancient Waters Of Bath

In ancient waters of Bath did Your tenured eyes make see dew
Whose iris green, quill ink of forests, Sulis Minerva, I am to You…

Stand once by my bricked banks, to be as the seed surged on by water-willow Light
Swim into my embryonic depths and meet Your awakening, its fresh delight
Rise up with lotus intent and face the Sun, let prayers know why they exist in the pools of Your heart
Time-unbound and maiden of springs, I declare thee as my chest-caressed Art

In ancient waters of Bath did Your tenured eyes make see dew
Whose iris green, quill ink of forests, Sulis Minerva, I am to You…

"In ancient waters of Bath did Your tenured eyes make see dew Whose iris green, quill ink of forests, Sulis Minerva, I am to You..."

“In ancient waters of Bath did Your tenured eyes make see dew
Whose iris green, quill ink of forests, Sulis Minerva, I am to You…”

Photography & Poetry: © Masufa Khatun | Mazzy Khatun Photo Stories | Bath | Somerset | UK 2015