A Traveller’s Tale

Erasure Poem 2, (Sketchbook 2020/21), gel pen on photocopy paper, © N Nazir 2020

Remember only the horizons
gentle and winding
with passion
for how pregnant
the journey came to be.

© N Nazir 2021

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Fifty Shades of Blue

All kinds of blue fill me to the brim.

Electric, powder, eggshell, dusk.

The howlin’ wolf of a busker’s busk.

Making their home in my heart, on my skin.



Melancholic, the blue that mourns


azure, turquoise, cornflower, dawn.


The blue of the art I can hardly contain


the hue of the blue of a day filled with rain.

Cobalt, it’s not your fault

I choose other blues over you.

There are times you still make me melt.

Peacock feather, magpie’s wing

one will zing, the other is

a hidden thing.

Bells, berries, birds, bottles

soft, bold, infused, mottled.

Emerging, flowing, sweeping through

as ocean wave does bid adieu.

Twilight and midnight 

the quiet blue shadows 

of snow in sunlight.

All kinds of blue

I see moving in you.

Cerulean, phlatho, ultramarine.

Blue that whispers shades of green.

Your blue-veined arms

so warm, so calm.

Arctic, mussell, royal, indigo

the blue of the mood that knew Picasso.

The manifold blues that ripple across

the ocean face, the ocean bed

blue of the flame hotter than red.

Prussian, the blue of a lively discussion.

French horizon

the look in your eyes and

a silky dew on a day washed new.


The mysterious blue so close to black

of tales that never speak a word.

Otherworld blue, so white it smarts

a hush so deep it can only be heard

in a silent pocket of the heart.

I love the blue, the blue of your art.

Aquamarine, still, serene

complexion of a gentle stream

trickling along with breathless sighs

reflection of the cloudless skies

As whole and full as the truth is true

lives an endless hue of the bluest blue.

© N. Nazir 2021

*all images my own

Written in response to Blue Tuesday prompt by dVerse ~ Poets Pub

Actually rewritten, as I first penned this poem in 2007 and decided to unearth it for this prompt. The original version was embarrassing so I had to do a Zorro on it.

You may also wish to enjoy one of the best blues songs ever…Go on, do it. It will make your day that little bit better.

This Poem is an Only Child

What does it mean to be solitudinarian?
How do loners learn to lone?

Is it diamond solitaire, your precious time?
Are you lonesome tonight?

Is the lone wolf still a pack animal?
Or black sheep for going its own way?

Does the hermit suffer being unable 
to share his lightbulb moments?

Reclusing in his cave exclusively.
(Maybe he resides in a tree).

I, Hans Solo, seek solitude
for it is here that I find plenitude.

Unique, single, whole, complete. 
Full like moon, sole like earth

Brimmed like sea
one entity.

© N. Nazir 2021

Photo by David Besh on Pexels.com


Written for Sammi Scribbles weekend writing prompt: https://sammiscribbles.wordpress.com/2021/05/08/weekend-writing-prompt-208-solitudinarian/

A Change of Art

Salaam, everyone ☀️

It’s an impromptu arts post for today as I haven’t done one for a while. I thought I’d share some photos from my archives. As usually happens when I’m searching for a particular photo I can never find, I come across another photo I was looking for that I couldn’t find, then I forget what I was looking for in the first place.

Thereby, I stumbled across these shots of a piece of art I was quite taken by whilst mooching around the Summer Exhibition in 2017 (Royal Academy of Arts, London).

Yes, it is as it appears, a painting on a piece of toast. Depicting snowcapped alps in the foreground against a dark sky background. And yes, the orange dot does mean it is sold. How on earth is it preserved? It’s toast, how can it be? Surely it’s ephemeral, and will deteriorate as old toast inevitably does. But what will happen to the painting on top of it? Who knows? The buyer clearly didn’t care. The artist took a risk and it paid off, literally.

Stuff like this charms the pants off me. I like the classical fine arts but I do love a cheeky turn-it-on-its-head piece too. It reminds me of the reason I always turn to art-making. That it can be made from anything. That no material is safe when the artist is around. That anything has the potential to become art depending on the slant you give it (or it shows you).

Also, here’s some street art for you…

Street Art (knittifi), digital photograph, © N. Nazir 2021

An example of knittifi. Basically, graffiti in the form of knitting. It appears overnight and may grace railings, public sculptures or lamp posts (as above). Sometimes it stays and weathers away, sometimes it disappears again overnight.

Street Art, digital photograph, © N. Nazir 2021

Someone was getting rid of a mattress. The next day I walked past this, someone else had sprayed a pretty Arabesque pattern across the face of it. I love that someone cared enough to do that. The next day it was gone.

Street Art, digital photograph, © N. Nazir 2020

The original street art, created overnight by artist spider unknown, nature’s geometry sunlit the next morning. Je l’adore.

Have there been any quirky works of art you’ve come across in your time? If so, do share. I’d love to hear about them 🙂

© N. Nazir 2021

How to Make a Great Work of Art

First, you must cook up some fitting concept then decide on your medium. For example…

You may acquire a large blank canvas. Somewhere in the white expanse, smudge a thumb print of paint then declare it finished. Entitle the piece “Wanderer in a Sea of Fog.”

Get a large cardboard box. Rough it up a bit. Place it in the centre of the gallery space. Entitle the piece “Home Sweet Home.”

Bring your pet chinchilla (or chihuahua or cat or goat, etc.) to the gallery space and just hang out on the floor somewhere. If anyone asks, tell them you are doing a performance piece exploring the relationship between man and beast.

Hang a large curtain above an exit door somewhere in the gallery. Entitle the piece “The Final Curtain.”

Throw an inordinate amount of paint at an enormous canvas whilst paying no heed if it also goes all over the surrounding walls and ceiling. Call the piece “Chaos Theory.”

Acquire a large plastic blow-up animal, for example, a pig, and blow it up. Hang it suspended somewhere in the gallery space. Entitle the piece “The Physical Impossibility of Flight in the Mind of Someone at the Mercy of Gravity.” Underneath don’t write your name, write Damian Hirst.

Sit in the gallery space with your guitar and play as badly as you want for as long as you can with an empty cap placed somewhere in front of you. Do this earnestly and see if gallery visitors give you any money or come and watch assuming you are doing a performance piece. Do this until security moves you on. Even if the gallery disapprove, this makes the work more notorious, and in itself it becomes a protest piece against the elitist nature of the art world.

Failing the above, do a Banksy and bring in your own framed painting and hang it on an unsuspecting piece of wall until someone notices.

image from abcinflatables.co.uk

© N Nazir 2021

NaPoWriMo Prompt: to write a poem as a series of directions describing how to get to a particular place.

My poem is more a series of instructions advising the aspiring artist on how to create a great work of art.

http://www.napowrimo.net