Thursday, July 18, 2013

The Dream

This is surely coincidental but I have been dreaming A LOT recently, and weirdly I cannot seem to have a decent daydream every once in a while. I have written this short piece a while ago, it is very simple and I was just pouring some of my thoughts onto paper and thought I'd share the result. The doodle, also, was drawn randomly and it looks like a girl lost in her own little world so, it goes with the title "the dream" as well. 




The Dream 

Why does the night shut its doors and windows when I get under my blanket and filthy white sheets? The moon is not a storyteller, it is a liar that tries, oh it tries so hard to justify the darkness that surrounds us. Little stars of shame. Dreadful birds. I’m sure they’re black, black like the night. 
Drifting into sleep, I see sunsets, coral, crimson, blood-red and peachy. All kinds of sunsets. I see the skies above my head filled with white pieces of clouds, purple and pink and blue and green and orange and white again, and black again! Black is here again, why is it here?
 It’s gone, the black devil, it went away. Bits of rain pour over my hair and it’s wet now, my nose is as red as a clown’s and my lips are winter-blue. The wet shine in my hair makes it black, black like the night, I see it and I can feel it too.
I’m cold, my feet are numb. How did I forget to put on shoes this morning? I have a lot of them. I don’t have as many scarves to keep me warm in this horrid weather. My chest hurts and I’m coughing. Suddenly I see patterns in front of me, lovely patterns that look spontaneous; full of spots, stripes, flowers and they smell like the sea. They remind me of my first date, I was young and beautiful, my skin was the color of sand, and my lips had the charm of a poisonous apple. I can’t help it, I see ghosts hidden inside these patterns, they seem friendly but I hate them. I hate these pale faces, they remind me of my pale face. 
The sun is going down again, a fine shade of orange that I don’t care for. It’s the color of hell, and hell will be here soon, the night will spread its wings over this city once again. I won’t wake up, I can’t open my eyes! 
"Oh, good morning." 

 ---

Don't forget I always appreciate your comments. Sweet dreams tonight! 
This is one of my favorite versions of Aerosmith's famous Dream On, Steven Tyler is sensational! 
xx,
Wafa 

Monday, July 1, 2013

Mr. Black Coffee

I first doodled this in one of my literature classes, and then decided to make it more colorful. I was thinking of these words from Otis Redding's song Cigarettes and Coffee "I don't want no cream and sugar 'cause I got you now darling.", and decided to call it [Mr. Black Coffee] afterwards.

So, that's pretty much it.

xx
Wafa

Friday, June 21, 2013

Good Morning!

[Pieces of hope that hide shyly 
inside the cracks of old walls 
and the faces that haunted you last night 
smile at you today
The voices in your head
get lost behind yellow leaves
and your coffee is not so dark
as drops of heaven fall from the sky
in beautiful shapes 
they grab your heart
and pour morning spells into your space.]

 
+for extra joy, here's a classic: 

have a good day! xx,
Wafa

Wednesday, June 5, 2013

Short Story: The Dark Side of Spring

I thought for a change I'd share a short story that I used to participate in a creative writing competition at the University of Bahrain. Well, I didn't win but I remember mentioning the idea behind this story in a former post. It's simply the colorful idea of spring in a gloomy package. I don't really have a drawing to accompany my story and I don't feel like saying a lot of things. So here:

The Dark Side of Spring
A Story About Happiness

His soul is a dark room, with caged nightmares and dead lullabies. Life to him is a mysterious plan. He puts on his jacket and pours the black coffee that no segment of his life is joyous enough to sweeten into his old favorite cup. But ‘favorite’ is a weary word. Every dream becomes a myth inside his house and myths are nothing but lies. He has given up his soul to the deep gray skies, and his love to nothing. 
He walks down the streets of his small town, the walls are deaf and his fears are silent. It is spring and a zesty breeze fills the air, and the glossy sunlight brightens the big sky. Cherry trees are in colorful bloom on both sides of the road. Nature speaks but he ignores. To him everything is a color-covered darkness, everything is a sugar-coated lie. Life sucks the color from the leaves of proud trees, from the lips of pretty women, from an old man’s hair and a young man’s cigarette. So how can he believe in color? 

He remembers his life, the screams, the hospitals, the ex-wives. He listens carefully to the sounds around him, but the birds sound like demons, and the wind sounds like a devil’s whisper. He starts losing his mind under the pressure of his agonizing thoughts. His skull feels heavy, and he can feel his pulse inside his brain. 

He keeps walking, looking for something cheerful among the gifts of nature to amuse him, but every scene, every song and every scent fails to comfort him. He hears a feminine cry, and it grows louder and more achy. He listens to the tormented noise coming through his corrupt spirit, shaking his insides and waking up forgotten memories. The noise turns into a song, a song of beauty and anguish, of hope and horror. He looks down and sees a flower dying, her scent is blossoming in gasps full of purple. A line of flowers gathers around her in an astonishing rainbow of petals singing her a goodbye song

Purple
O dainty Purple
Your beauty is so soft
So simple
 Warm like the sun
Kind like the moon
Your perfume will fly
We will smell you at dawn
Come say hi

The modesty of the words sinks into his heart and burning tears start to fall before his eyes. His angels are awakened, he’s full of grace, full of emotion. His pains become part of this ceremony and he watches the funeral peacefully, bluntly. His spirit is softened by the cries of these flowers, and he sees their love and devotion stronger than a bad memory, any bad memory. He is amazed as nature finally speaks to him, and nature sounds consoling, it sounds soothing, it sounds freeing. He takes the dead flower in his hands and buries it, his pains too. 

I am alive
No longer blue
If roses can feel
I can too
Nature has spoken
Who knew?
I no longer worry
I no longer rue
Birds are dancing
On fragrant wood
Dreams are dancing
In a heart so new
And when Spring is gone
I have Sun, I have Wind, I have Rain, I have Snow. 

---
Elements of nature and a positive ending! I can't help it, I'm a positive person. Let me know what you think. GOOD NIGHT ♥ [rainbows]


xx,
Wafa

Wednesday, May 22, 2013

Oh My Cup!

My floral mood is no longer present, I've been so busy lately teaching and studying. I have also been trying to eat healthier which is a lot of pressure for a foodie like myself, oh how I miss a pile of sugar-dusted custard-filled doughnuts but this is probably not the best time to mention that since I'm allowing myself to have a cheat-day tomorrow = lots of junk food. In times like this, I tend to get fussy and fiery-tempered, and the only problem-free part of my day is when I sit down to enjoy my coffee -my mug is my bud! I love coffee, it's my dose of inspiration, energy, and warmth every day. This doodle [coffee blues], named after Mississippi John Hurt's song, is for coffee lovers who also look like this little girl when they see a beautiful cup of coffee.

[Oh my cup,
white, singing blues into my soul
My cup, are you a dream of daylight,
or the knight of my nights?
for you, my cup, are my godless savior
and my Roman flavor
Textures inside you, 
warm and tart
a cube of sugar..
and a piece of heart!]


It was kind of weird writing a poem for this doodle and the result was kind of funky, but I like this piece, but again I would appreciate anything with coffee written all over it. 
Otis Redding is another thing that helps me relax, if I could bring someone from the dead, I'd probably ask his corpse out on a date over coffee. May he RIP.
Otis Redding - Cigarettes and Coffee
 

xx,
Wafa

Thursday, May 2, 2013

My Own Rainbow

By now it is no surprise that I'm a lover of all things joyous and colorful, or most of them at least. Rainbows are soft-looking, candy-colored and just pretty! This doodle is simply called [rainbow] and it is just a glimpse of joy in an emotionless picture. That rainbow-inspired scarf is the main element, the rest of it -even the very cute bun- is not supposed to have any meaning without it.
[All is pale, 
in my old-fashioned misery
love with no sugar,
honey or spice
Goodbye my friend
I apologize
Hush, my dreams, darkness and lullabies
I will paint my own rainbow
my faith, my window
and some stars.]


Oh and a happy ending! Have a colorful weekend.
Here, enjoy some Dio:
Dio - Rainbow in the Dark
Mine was a rainbow in an emotionless picture, didn't I say? Perfect translation, Ronnie.

xx,
Wafa