Tag Archive | imagination

Listen. Pause. Inhale…

water, sea, surf

Listen.

even the water
whispers your name

Pause.

thoughts of you
haunt my moments

Inhale.

you’re the legend
of my soul

©

Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

Beautiful Grid…

Mundane Monday challenge is created to find beauty in almost everything.

The challenge is simple. Find beauty in everyday mundane things, capture the beauty and upload the photographs.

Ceiling grid, photos, beautiful

The way the runner plant is all twisted around the ceiling grid is just lovely.

To create beautiful surroundings takes only imagination.

Jacqueline

Assumed conversation – Every day beautiful people 78

“A conversation is so much more than words: a conversation is eyes, smiles, the silences between the words.” Annika Thor

Can you tell a story from the picture?

Well, here’s my own narration. I enjoy having such little fun 🙂

The imagined conversation. Watch their hand movement:

1st photo – Man in white thobe:Habib, you told me to go there and I did!

2nd photo – I saw nothing.

3rd photo – you misled me, why?

1st photo – Man in shorts kept quiet

2nd photo – still quiet but smiling.

3rd photo – my friend, I didn’t mislead you. I have no idea what happened there.

So, what do you see?

P.S: You can join our online party this weekend. It’s always a good time:-)


Below is my first just published Poetry Book “Out of the silent breath” which is available on Amazon and Smashwords.

When you buy my book, you support me in an invaluable manner.

Stars, Five Stars, Logo, Icon, Symbol, Five, Rating

Wonderful, evocative poetry by a talented writer. Left me hungry for more. Jacqueline can write! Linda Bethea

Out of the silent breath

If you enjoy my works and would like to do so, you can fuel my creativity with a slice of cake or coffee😉

Trust me, my darling…Every day beautiful people # 71

“Relationships is certainly more than holding hands, more than going on dates, kissing and sex. It’s about accepting your partner’s flaws, warts and all and seeing the perfection in an imperfect person. It’s all about finding happiness with each other and being yourself.” Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

Trust_me_3[1] Trust_me[1] Trust_me_1[1]

Okay, so the imagination might be mine, but I like to imagine what people are saying as I enjoy watching them, so from the gentleman’s earnest gestures, I read:

“Trust me, darling, I’m yours to keep.”

Yeah, yeah, I’m a die-hard romantic, but where would we be without a bit of romance in our hearts? 😉


Below is my first just published Poetry Book “Out of the silent breath” which is available on Amazon and Smashwords.

When you buy my book, you support me in an invaluable manner.

Stars, Five Stars, Logo, Icon, Symbol, Five, Rating

‘A Richly Layered and Passionate Read.’ Jan Cliff

Out of the silent breath

Bandit or not Bandit?…Every day beautiful people # 39

“Imagination will often carry us to worlds that never were, but without it, we go nowhere.”  Carl Sagan

Bicycle_Rider[1]

The sensible part of me knows that the bicycle rider had the scarf on his face to keep out the fine desert sand, but the nosy, imaginative busy mind of me, created another scenario, to which he’s now an accomplice in a story.

It just couldn’t get any better, with the band on his face, the cap, the knapsack and a bicycle for a quick getaway 😉

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha


Below is my first just published Poetry Book “Out of the silent breath” which is available on Amazon and Smashwords.

When you buy my book, you support me in an invaluable manner.

Out of the silent breath

Never leave me lonely

With words left unsaid

You walk away into the dark

Like a mist, that melts away.

Growing Muscles…Writers Quote Wednesday.

Imagination is like a muscle. I found out that the more I wrote, the bigger it got. Philip José Farmer

Inside me, when I write, I stand tall. I feel a certain clench and release that I don’t experience from anything else. That’s what writing does to me. I feel an expansion of my spirit, my soul, and my mind.

As is commonly said, the art of practice brings about a perfection and though there are times that I question myself, my sanity and conviction, personal experience with scriggling and drabbling has shown me how true it is.

I find that my vivid imagination keeps getting sharper as each day goes by and it’s veering towards seeing things in 3D perspectives from the mundane details and beauty in the ordinary to the complex structure and questions that pop up inside my head. It only means that it can get better as the muscle gets fine-tuned.

Writing is certainly not an easy exercise even when we think that we have the gift of the garb and have all the structures well put together. As a matter of opinion, I find that writers are most times less assured of their writing than those who don’t write, but the passion and the loud voices that nags in one’s head won’t let you be until you’ve had your say.

Like the quote has said, and I reiterate, keep pushing the boundaries of your imaginative muscles. Explore by pushing the strictures of your boundaries and comfort. I am trying to venture outside my zone of cruise control, to a bumpy side. I bet the knowledge gained from trying new reading material and writing aspect won’t be a wasted venture.

I would rather keep pushing it, writing and shooting crabs than stopping. In the midst of the written rubbish, there’s bound to be a couple of useful material and by the time I am done with my muscle development, I might actually stand a chance of knocking Mayweather flat on his hard backside in a boxing ring with the feathered tip of my pen.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

Image credit: Pixabay

The other one…

I met her!

At long last!

Now, I can satisfy my curiosity and also put my aching desire to rest.

I fidgeted as we stood in the quiet restaurant sizing each other up. She was calm.

I had chosen an exclusive restaurant, to give our brains an opportunity to assimilate each others presence,

without getting consumed in the distractions that comes from the busy-ness of a crowded place.

My stomach was filled with butterflies. I could almost feel the rushing flow of my blood in my veins.

This was a  moment that I had thought of all my conscious life.

The when? The what if? The how?

I felt that meeting her would be a glorious turning point in my stable life.

We would cry, laugh and take selfies.

We would talk non-stop to cover so much ground.

I came clutching the photo album, that I had put together.

I needed to slay my demons and I felt that she had the sword.

Finally, she would bring some rainbow and sunshine,

into the deepest parts of me that had lived for 27 years with the question; WHAT IF?

I wanted to get rid of that feeling of rejection; that feeling of inadequacy and doubt,

which had been constant shadowy companions, peeking over my shoulders.

I searched her eyes,

They were gray like mine; but they bore no warmth in their depths.

The curve of her lips which were shaped like mine; drew hard on the elegant E-cigarette which adorned her lips,

yet they could hardly shape into a smile.

Her raven black hair was devoid of any grey hairs. No strand was out of place. She was perfectly groomed.

She was still a very attractive woman; for her age.

I subconsciously smoothed down my floral Sunday best. I had dressed to impress.

Her facial features were stiff; I figured that it was due to the use of botox and not just the harshness of life.

A puff and a sip later,

Without much ado, she dove right into the matter.

I think you are grown up enough to understand, she said.

You came when I was least prepared to have a child, and the truth is that I am still not sure that I want that responsibility. I have never had motherly instincts, and at my age, I should know. I agreed to meet with you after all these years because I felt that was the least that I could do; so that you can move on.

I do not apologize for my decision to let you go. I did what I did because it was the best thing for me.

Does that make me selfish? Maybe?

But, look at you! You turned out very well. I am happy about that.

She picked up the tab, picked up her expensive looking leather pocket book and walked out of the revolving door,

without a backward glance. Only the whiff of her perfume and the trailing puff of her smoke lingered for a while.

I sat in utmost silence and bewilderment for quite a bit.

I polished off the remaining Cabernet Sauvignon as my idling brain struggled to process the entire episode.

For some reason, I did not feel a heavy crash of disappointment.

Some odd sense of burdened release seemed to be my most paramount feeling.

I felt like a captive whose shackles had been released. Free to love freely,

the woman who has nurtured me all these years, without any sense of guilt or boundaries.

I realized what my biological mother was,

a mere vehicle that providence used to bring me here.

That a good moment of feeling sexy and conception,

Did not automatically make you a good mother.

Through the figment of my imagination, that I had built over the years,

I had accorded so much what if’s and possibilities to her.

I was happy that I met her.

Happy to have the what if’s, the how and the when answered,

All in one fell swoop.

I may not have slain all my demons,

But I left my doubts and shadowy companions,

back in that exclusive restaurant.

I went home to my mother, my mum.

Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha