Memory woven

The Icarus Quandary

All my life, I play hard, write poetry with passion, love deeply. Since I was a young child, I was with a book - always. I could trace the passage of time through books I read at home, in school, while I waited for life to embrace me. I wanted to be three things – a writer, a writer, a writer at all cost

Words - a trailblazer
Going out on a limb
Flying high

For a while then, I forgot my dream. In the quest for the ordinary life, I forgot my burning desire to write, the poet and writer buried deep within a place dreams did not visit, hopes did not sing

Lost, I fell
From paradise at the tip
Of a pen

Then sparkling moments, the birth of my firstborn, finding my muse - the love of my life, me – embracing life as never before, moment upon moment leading me to this point in time

The writer within
Grasp your destiny

In the blanket of the bluest of nights, despair engulfs me, I know within me lies a poet of fierce nationalistic pride. Yet my country lies sleeping, unaware of the beauty of our land, our history, our people, our legends, our forest and skies. Sees only glimmering towers, eco-tours and jungle treks without understanding the turtle’s song of regret upon the waves of the ocean or the story of Onangkiu of  Gelanggui.

Tears like
Pearls escaping from
The broken necklace

I press on… for in this quest, my children’s children will continue the dream of the pomegranate – a story within each translucent seed of awareness.

Words by ninotazizCopyright 2010 © ninotaziz.
All rights reserved.

Today, Victoria over at dVerse prompts us to look at our memories for inspiration. Here, I feature an old poem but one that I feel so strongly reflects my recollection of my life (for which I thank God for daily). And poems which recap my childhood memories too! As a writer, I often felt that  my own memories overlap with those of my ancestors. This could be due to the fact that in our family, we talk about events one hundred years ago as if they just happened yesterday.
My name is ninotaziz daughter of Abang Tik, daugher of Chu Rahmah daughter of Yang Chik daughter of Bebunga, storytellers of old. And Zalina, daughter of Abdul Aziz, son of Tok Muda Salehuddin, son of Tok Awang Pekan, son of Tok Nik, son of Tok Tunggal, son of Tok Ghafur, son of Tok Haji, son of Tok Sabur, ancient warriors all.
 Here are some of my  memory woven poems, written throughout my life :


  1. It is truly beautiful, Ninot! Once again I'm impressed with the way you've arranged the lines and stanzas. I'm glad that finally you find the path of your passion and got to do what you love most.
    You're absolutely right about the country, the awareness of the history and the legends are critically low.

    1. Thank you Zunnur. It warms my heart that you enjoy this poem and also lament the disappearing legends of our land...

  2. Ninot Ma'am,
    It's a realization many fail to appreciate. The richness and abundance are plain to see to the talented and the concerned. But sadly it's given the pass or even taken for granted by many. Sadly the talented and the concerned are a rare breed. The country and culture within are all the richer with the shining light from a wonderful Ninot. Continue writing Ma'am!


    1. I will Sir Hank. I still have hope though that someone would realize this! And bring back the beautiful culture before it is totally gone!

  3. What a fabulous write! I so relate to setting aside one's writing in the time of creating a family. It always bothered me that I was not writing. I love the form of this poem, stanzas alternating with paragraphs. I LOVE the listing of the ancestors. Absolutely wonderful. And all of the books you are writing, your children's children will read, and thus the old stories will carry on through the generations.

    1. Thank you Sherry, I wish I had more time though. But someone told me recently, if I had more time, I wouldn't write as how I do now.

  4. "In the blanket of the bluest of nights".... Breathtaking. Thanks for visiting and sharing with me. It's always good and great to meet another poet with a song in her heart.

    1. Thank you Shers. I did not post this poem by mistake, and am glad you found your way here...


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