tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73977589606349250622026-02-01T16:35:17.377-06:00Conscious and Subconscious Expression by Nevine SultanNevine Sultanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08794887684860140819noreply@blogger.comBlogger163125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7397758960634925062.post-1871115931115465002022-11-19T14:10:00.001-06:002022-11-19T14:10:38.990-06:00

 Photo, Aaron DraperSometimes I stare at a windowor a door, trying to make outthe phantoms that stalk it. Do I think I can decipher the missing glassif I look hard enough? But... have I ever told you? I have never told you aboutthe time I heard your voicelike a blunt knife twisting in my vitalswhispering to someone something I had asked youto hold tightly inside you.

Nevine Sultanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08794887684860140819noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7397758960634925062.post-24418675027617941342020-10-25T07:53:00.006-05:002020-10-26T10:26:00.252-05:00

Art by Roger Guettasometimes my voice leans into me and says i need to tell you somethingit no longer wishes to belong to meor to anyone elsebut to fleecan you understand?to fly away rising against the windimpaling the sky circling the starsslicing through orthodox chambersascendingtranscendingbeyond hope beyond impossibility sometimes i you don’t dare 

Nevine Sultanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08794887684860140819noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7397758960634925062.post-41701731537470531652019-07-03T08:29:00.000-05:002019-07-03T09:22:33.190-05:00

Art by Leonor Fini I know what I need. Now . . . and . . . Now. That is what matters! Confusion doesn’t bother me.  So, why do I travel the hazy unknown  while gripping onto false assurances of certainty? I dream of taking to sea in a seamless vessel, grazing the fusion of water and sky and  breathing in the ocean’s immensity. Yet, I linger in

Nevine Sultanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08794887684860140819noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7397758960634925062.post-38291832569227453752019-02-22T16:27:00.000-06:002019-02-22T16:28:56.111-06:00

Art by Dan-Ah Kim I cannot tell you how or why. I am sitting here in love  with life and the world.  Beyond. Something else emerges.  As if darkness were meeting light. a ripple in one space resonates throughout eternity What are the parameters of these false boundaries? What am I too terrified to unleash? Once again, my rapture stretches out in every

Nevine Sultanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08794887684860140819noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7397758960634925062.post-91271556773114974762018-10-19T17:31:00.003-05:002018-10-19T17:32:50.134-05:00

Unknown Photographer After the storm: Jade. Mint. Olive. Emerald. How vastly these greens transcend my vision! And, my vision . . . how infinitely it pulses to the cadence of Demeter! The sun glints off a dewy blade of grass. The light streams in through a sliver of open window. The air is honeyed with the scent of rose and helianthus. The crape myrtles dally in the richness

Nevine Sultanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08794887684860140819noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7397758960634925062.post-18030807807275529382018-06-22T18:49:00.000-05:002018-06-22T18:52:47.020-05:00

Unknown Artist This is how I recall it: A light lunch at my well-loved kitchen table: crusty bread and baked camembert with walnuts, rosemary, and honey. Then, the coy invitation to take dessert outdoors. Shall we? And, Certainly! Crème brûlée? And, Unquestionably! The streets glittered from the light rain, and travelers came from near and far. Taking

Nevine Sultanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08794887684860140819noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7397758960634925062.post-2282721744194211852018-05-22T05:48:00.000-05:002018-05-25T04:10:51.715-05:00

Art by Edvard Munch I awaken from a dream. I have a question: How do I negotiate this non-geometric space With ardent blends  of color? There are no sharp  arrows commanding a direction or route. I shut my eyes.  I desire. Inside, my breath sighs through my veins. Outside, the vast emptiness  gathers sunlight and prism. Profoundly kindled, I

Nevine Sultanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08794887684860140819noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7397758960634925062.post-64290442855939143772018-02-25T08:20:00.004-06:002018-02-25T08:20:57.975-06:00

Art by Christian Schloe I have been down that path twice before. It has  no more gifts to offer me. Within. I have gardens. I have oceans. I have skies. I walk in dreams. where not to go? I string out infinitely. Nothing will stay me. I am imprinted upon the skin of the ether. can i protect myself from this crude vulnerability? Here comes a new

Nevine Sultanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08794887684860140819noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7397758960634925062.post-25460444386703493292018-01-21T07:21:00.000-06:002018-01-21T07:21:00.119-06:00

The Guardian, Freydoon Rassouli You confront me with such graciousness, My Shadow! You wait . . . and persist. This time, I am the one who is distant, far away. And you? You are the patient one, the evergreen vested with endurance, the poised, assured watcher on the hills. I leave the shore in search of other unknowns. I sail . . . remote, ineffable, stitched with&

Nevine Sultanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08794887684860140819noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7397758960634925062.post-20175945339220758282017-12-27T16:34:00.001-06:002017-12-27T17:04:14.697-06:00

Art by Dan-Ah Kim Once again . . . The promise of sanctuary. The insolence of perfectionism. or, should I say the sanctuary of perfectionism? Whatever I name it, it beckons. This time, I decline the offer. I no longer constrict myself. no more armor. Instead, I crack myself and  open wide the mouth of the wound. what pulls me, now? I am inclined towards

Nevine Sultanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08794887684860140819noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7397758960634925062.post-27615338769845005522017-09-04T09:07:00.001-05:002017-09-04T09:07:36.750-05:00

Art by Gustav Klimt After Hurricane Harvey ***** I’ve always kept certain questions  tucked away like forbidden  family secrets. Yet, something has shifted, these last few days. what is this helplessness? what is this vigilance? what is this hope? What is the source of these inquiries? What is triggering them out of placid hibernation? Can this be? Can

Nevine Sultanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08794887684860140819noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7397758960634925062.post-9455327685120711362017-06-03T17:53:00.001-05:002017-06-03T17:53:21.388-05:00

Beata Beatrix by Dante Gabriel Rossetti I am a fallen angel, struck by the thunderbolt of wonder and desire, exiled to a destiny of solitary emancipation. But, hear me, now: I am also a woman of truth. And so, I must, you know . . . I must transport myself into a certain willingness that embraces  this brave new autonomy. I must enact this deepest form of 

Nevine Sultanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08794887684860140819noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7397758960634925062.post-263109716305306062016-02-27T05:53:00.000-06:002016-02-27T05:53:01.965-06:00

New Nature, Christian Schloe I do not need to turn and look back. i have been here before Some things are just as they have always been: The sky is fixed above the horizon like an O’Keeffe landscape. The sun quivers like smoke inside my eyes. The dry leaves lie sporadic and listless on the ground. The path follows a swift meandering line. I walk. But, now…

Nevine Sultanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08794887684860140819noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7397758960634925062.post-60599566185000344432015-06-21T08:49:00.000-05:002015-09-14T20:02:08.510-05:00

Art by Claude Monet And, now comes the river, rippling  like cobalt snakes across a fresco of glistening hills! Its fragrance parts the crystal breeze. We lean our heads into its brazen reflection. We press our fingers against its radiant blur. now i see you, now i don’t The birds fall silent— only for now. Summer leaps in, dappling  the air with chirp

Nevine Sultanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08794887684860140819noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7397758960634925062.post-88564375771099695492015-06-11T18:54:00.000-05:002015-06-13T06:53:35.574-05:00

La fenêtre sur l île de bréhat, Marc Chagall It is an honor and a pleasure to announce the publication of two of my poems—“Mutiny” and “Density and Divinity”—in the Summer Issue of Snapdragon: A Journal of Art & Healing. Both of these poems first appeared right here on Dreams. It has been a while since I submitted any creative writing for review,

Nevine Sultanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08794887684860140819noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7397758960634925062.post-1683747314614467972015-04-28T20:22:00.000-05:002015-05-30T05:32:52.928-05:00

Art by Gianni de Conno We walk the tightwire of decorum with such determination! But…  who leads, and who follows? A certain frailty shatters the air between us. An organic whole self-generates from the fragments. rain falls from other skies Uncertainty torments certainty. is it your breath that’s crossing the bridge of my cheekbones and the space  between

Nevine Sultanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08794887684860140819noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7397758960634925062.post-82564127768401468692015-03-14T16:48:00.000-05:002015-03-14T16:48:31.485-05:00

Art by Dan-Ah Kim Oh, breathing body— What stillness you reap! Together, you and I… Together, we creep deeper into our unbroken communion. I open... Breathe. Unbundle. Inwards. .:: i am shadow ::. .:: i am echo ::. Inside. Moments of quietude. Moments of clear space. Moments of pure being. Moments of transparency. There is no content. The chambers of the

Nevine Sultanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08794887684860140819noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7397758960634925062.post-37950596226715204772015-02-07T08:58:00.002-06:002015-02-07T11:21:36.012-06:00

Unknown Artist Quiet. Quiet, now. This is our secret place. I know where my home is. Here, my formless shadow stalks the periphery of the light. And, the light… Oh, how it strides with arms arching  upwards and beyond! It recognizes itself  amidst the grey embodiment  of my confusion. We are together on this quiet new day that shifts us into a sand

Nevine Sultanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08794887684860140819noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7397758960634925062.post-55733737315551512452015-01-01T13:14:00.000-06:002015-01-01T13:14:10.988-06:00

Unknown Artist 2014 is over. It truly is.  This morning, I found myself thinking that, for all the years I’ve been blogging on Dreams, I posted about the new year before it actually arrived… sometime in the last week of December, usually. That’s not what happened with 2014. The second to last week of 2014 was a whirlwind of busy busy busy activity as I worked at closing

Nevine Sultanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08794887684860140819noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7397758960634925062.post-3452710059388132892014-11-02T15:12:00.001-06:002014-11-03T06:12:38.752-06:00

Detail from Ginevra de' Benci, Leonardo da Vinci You had me at, Is this real,  or is it enchantment? But the source of that question  is a doubt that gnaws  at your sinew. Somewhere inside the emptiness that consumes every void, there is a fullness that shrieks  with necessity. One can think up conjure imagine whatever one wishes,

Nevine Sultanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08794887684860140819noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7397758960634925062.post-14563436375009557212014-09-28T13:36:00.002-05:002014-09-28T13:36:51.753-05:00

Art by Christian Schloe To the near-empty sound of the young morning, Dyed only with the sensuous sway of Two trees that dance together Though separately, Rinsing their leaves in The blushing haze of the ever Unfathomable new day’s emergence From the embers of yesterday’s vastness, To this, To it, To you, Near-empty sound: hold steady. i feel you. within your

Nevine Sultanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08794887684860140819noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7397758960634925062.post-62219726583412288462014-09-01T12:50:00.000-05:002014-09-01T12:50:46.361-05:00

Unknown photographer Remember when I asked you to keep vigil? Oh, the promises you made! And oh, how you slept! And… Oh, how you brought me offerings in your quest for redemption! But I have limned myself with the thinness of every moment— this one, and the next. And I have stolen away into a mythology that only I can understand. Thoughts. Legends. Fantasies. They

Nevine Sultanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08794887684860140819noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7397758960634925062.post-44550464653089474272014-07-03T15:12:00.000-05:002014-07-03T15:17:19.655-05:00

Pelvis, Georgia O'Keeffe There must be words to describe these fractures in the frame of perfection. You say, Fractures are not often viewed in a beautiful light. I say, Yes, but sometimes they are just what we need. Thinking back, I could’ve said, Sometimes, they are just what I need… To recognize and

Nevine Sultanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08794887684860140819noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7397758960634925062.post-42752490055766948652014-05-17T18:16:00.000-05:002014-05-25T17:13:48.018-05:00

Photo,  Aaron Draper An ancient dream, if you will… shoulders unarched i walked into the water paying no heed to the waves giving no mind to the imminent storm my spirit emptied of discernment my core hollow of presentiment pure as a newborn whose gaze falls blue and unfiltered i walked i plunged i bathed in the cistern of secrecy my body jarred and

Nevine Sultanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08794887684860140819noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7397758960634925062.post-39226535701873878602014-04-18T16:12:00.003-05:002014-04-18T16:12:45.404-05:00

Adam & Eve, Gustav Klimt We sit on the green banks of the swelling river. Every morning—like this one—a random tree branch, its leaves kissed by the wind, unspools its longing, shattering the sun into asymmetric filaments of gold. No one is here to see this; it is ours alone. What was it we used to say about broken light? That it reveals itself as orbs in

Nevine Sultanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08794887684860140819noreply@blogger.com2