I love the number 13 =)

I love the number 13, especially when it falls on a Friday. It's an occasion that doesn't happen very often, so I think it's a time worth celebrating!

So, until Friday 13th of this month of July, my book will be on sale - 50% off!

To get your copy, simply:

POEM: Forever Dreaming

I just had the great pleasure of speaking to a lively bunch of my peers, from the Young Women's Leadership Program, facilitated by Alicia Curtis. This is a poem from my book that I had hoped they would relate to in their own journeys towards the realisation of their dreams.

* * *

Have you ever had a dream
That you never dared believe you could reach
That just too 'impossible' it seemed
And so only to Him, of those wishes, you would speak.

Yet have you arisen one day
From restless, unfulfilled sleep
To suddenly be feeling the rays
Of a hope you had hidden deep.

25 Random Things About Me

1. I would describe myself as a "blur" (which appears to make Wajma go into hysterics...hmm I haven't figured out why as yet...) - because I find I have just far TOO many RANDOM/varied/disconnected interests/passions. I find I enjoy doing/experiencing/learning about too many RANDOM things. I feel like a piece of me is/wants to be everywhere at once. And so I find great difficulty focusing my energies into just one thing...and thus, I am a BLUR :)
...And yet, upon reflection, I think I've worked out a purpose behind/connection between my otherwise apparent RANDOMness... Wallahu 'Alam :)

2. The one thing those who know me well will agree on as a quality I possess is: I am CRAZY! :P I am unpredictable

The Story Behind my First Book

Looking back, I am realising that it was not the days, but the pivotal moments that changed the course of my life.

After working in the community sector for nearly four years, I reached a stage where I felt I had exhausted my purpose and decided to only work till the end of my contract, but I was still unsure of what new direction to take.

I still remember the moment,

Listen and Trust

I was asked to talk at an International Women's Day event, held at the University of Western Australia. Truthfully, I was still trying to overcome a stubborn cough the past month. I don't know what I was thinking when I accepted the request; I guess I thought those extra 4 days before the event date itself may be enough time to recover...

Well, it wasn't! But do you know what the strange thing was?
The moment I walked in the lecture theatre

Beautiful Beginnings

Last night, I was privileged to witness the humble beginnings of Perth's first Youth Poetry Slam, hosted by City of Stirling's Sasa Mentorship Program.

I truly cannot find the words to describe what a beautiful night it was. The brave and talented youth who shared a part of their soul through their poetic words left a lasting impression on us all.
I'm honestly struggling to write complete sentences when I'm still left with that sweet 'feeling', like that sweet after-taste that lingers in your mouth after eating something appetising...

Two of the poets who performed last night feature in the promo film about the event, which you can view from my YouTube channel. Also in this video, I recite my poem, "Mother" that can be found in my book.

I am so excited about what is to come!
If you would like to be kept up to date about upcoming events I'm involved in, follow me on Twitter or like my Facebook page.

Why Poetry?

Writing in general has always been a source of comfort for me, theraputic in its process. But Poetry in particular is an especially unique avenue of expression that is both obvious yet mysterious, in which a handful of words sequenced in well-thought-out ways can have meanings deeper than the ocean. Poets are Artists, Paper their Canvas, Pen their Brush, and Words their Paint in all the colours of the rainbow.

Funnily enough, a poem I wrote recently, titled "My Silent Friend" describes exactly why I love Poetry as a form of expression.
In this poem, I talk about how writing/poetry is my Silent Friend who, "knows my secrets, the depth of my joys and sorrows; when others see my deceiving faces, only she and God hears of my hidden truths." (i.e. sometimes I may appear my normal self to the outside world, but Poetry learns of what may be heavy on my mind).

I go on to describe how poetry understands me and how exhausting

The Gift of Poetry

It's amazing how well-chosen words can create more meaning around something. My close friends all know that I like accompanying a gift with words to make the gift more memorable.
I once gave one of my single friends (who loved Brad Pitt and who hated being set-up by mutual friends) a t-shirt that said "Mrs Pitt", along with a note, "Just a small gift that I thought would be useful for you the next time someone tries to set you up; simply turn their attention to the words on your t-shirt and say, "Sorry, I'm taken." :-)

Other times, it is the words themselves that are priceless and the greatest gift you can give.

TIP: Acrostic Poetry using a person's name can be a great gift (well, if the person is the type who appreciates words). In general, having a letter to start the lines of your poem makes it quite a useful tool to give yourself a cue when you find yourself stuck on how to begin.

Here is an example of a poem I wrote and framed for a good friend and work colleague named Isabella.

I ntelligent, intuitive
S oft in speech

When Poetry was born (in my life at least)

To state the obvious, this week's theme is: Poetry

Let me begin by first looking back and recollecting the very first time I became interested in and began writing poetry...

To be honest, it was that long ago that I can't pinpoint the exact moment I began. However, I would say, as soon as I had learnt how to rhyme, I was writing poetry. One memory relating to poetry that sticks out in my mind was when I was in Year 3 in Primary School and I had to submit a poem to my teacher for Creative Writing. I still remember the opening lines of my silly, random poem that I had come up with on the spot:

Kenny the kicking kangaroo,

Purpose

I really don't like doing things aimlessly, without purpose... Even keeping this blog. Although my initial purpose for starting and keeping this blog going was for the sake of writing itself, I am realising that 'aimless writing' isn't enough of a purpose to motivate me to pick up my phone or switch on my laptop and start blogging.

There needs to be something more...

Perhaps a good place to start is looking at what makes me feel good, what interests and/or inspires me?

From the top of my head:

My Deen Islam
Love
Cars
Chocolate
HipHop

How we roll

I am realising that when you are a Muslim Hijabi chick, rollin' in City of Gosnells, you need to be armed with some HipHop...

I was on Tonkin Hwy a moment earlier in slow moving traffic when my ears caught the exchange between a bunch of young males (keyword: "males"), driving on the right lane beside me. They spoke and laughed loudly, having a conversation I think they intended for me to hear.

POEM: Freestyle

I usually don't "try" to write poetry; rather in a moment of inspiration or deep emotion, I discover thoughts becoming words that beg for an outlet, which develops into one of my poems! However, below is an example of one of those rare moments in which I decided I was going to take out my notebook and force myself to write something, anything, just for the sake of writing, in an attempt to conquer my writing drought. The poetic stream of consciousness written below came about during my travels in March 2011 while I was sitting on the plane with nothing much to do but write...

Putting pen to paper
Writing whatever comes to mind
Unsure of where these black lines forming words will lead

POEM: Australia - A land of beauty

I wrote this poem over 10 years ago, when I was 14 years old! It was such a long time ago, but I think it might've been for a school assignment for my English teacher whose name I still remember, Ms Phang. I thought it would be appropriate to share it today in the spirit of "Australia Day/Invasion Day/Survival Day".

As I stroll along the shore, my feet in the sand
The wind on my face, in a foreign land.
The sun in my eyes, the soft sound of the sea
And the curious stare, of a wallaby.

As I sit in the shade, of a tall gum tree
The crashing waves, I see before me.
The howl of the wind, and a kite flying high
Then as the sun sets, Southern Cross in the sky.