Tag Archives: #musings


Taking the last
To the future
Whatever you
Think about

A complex


The floors lifting
Up to the sky
The coordinates
Falling out
Of your eyes

Your mouth is
The answer
No questions
Come through



© Niliema Karkhanis

Featured photo by Michael Fenton from Unsplash

Of insects

Oh little creature

To me anyway
I mean to you
Your worlds
Are big &
Infinitely so

A matter of
Of course

Your course

& Flying

You go
All over

Or not
Shiny or

Of course
All whom
We call
Are quite

Amongst the
Earliest of
Like seeds

But many
Best friends

© Niliema Karkhanis

Authour’s note: a poem for day 14 of a month of poetry 2021 using the Ragtag Daily Prompt ‘insect’.

Please go read the poems through the days on the glopowrimo site. There are lots of great poets & amazing work. & please sign up for disqus (go here: https://disqus.com/ or you’ll see icons above each day’s comments) & upvote the poems you like. It’s a great way to support poetry month participants & to let us know what’s working with our poems as well as our responses to the prompts. 💜🎶🖋🌸🌷💌

Featured image by Aaron Burden from Unsplash

Of words & meandering




Such an

Of wonderlust


I try to

get myself to

The point

Of things

As much

As possible

After all


Isn’t it


Without it

It is hard

To live

I don’t even know

Sometimes how

To tell my own


& so

Verse it is


Yet precise

When I

Write it

It tells

Me things

A micro

A macro



Of being



A lever of



Is about

The point

Of things

It’s also




In things

© Niliema Karkhanis

For Your Daily Word Prompt: amble

Featured photo by Paweł Czerwiński from Unsplash

What I’ve learned about myself as a writer

Photo by Karolina Grabowska from Pexels

My writing never needed anyone. That is a lesson I’ve had to learn. Of course it needs & deserves to be read by those who appreciate it, by an audience which wants to understand & care about what I make. However, I always thought I needed someone in my life to care about it. I have felt that with my drawings & illustrations as well.

In the past year or so, I’ve come to realize that only I need my writing & drawing for them to deserve to exist.

I have continued always to make work when I can because I have needed & always need creativity in my life for my well-being. In terms of audience, I follow the tenet that making art which you wish to engage with in the world is what we do, need to do. & this I truly believe in; especially in terms of the socially conscious aspect, this will be eternally necessary. You want people to get something out of the work you release, to benefit from it in some way. I very much want that.

What I’ve learned about myself is that in order to get to that work, I need to focus on making stuff for me, enough of it, which may or may not make it out there.

Different than the squirreling creations away as I have done, it’s more about being really present in constructing a process for my work which transcends my insecurities, doubts & my centring lack versus plentiful expression.

Nothing taught me this more than coming to terms with the tension between access & production in a world which doesn’t place adequate value on artists’ labour.

While I value art to such a degree it’s very difficult to put into words, I like many cultural producers, have had to face these contradictions by simultaneously addressing them within ourselves, as well as in the world. Like I had to learn to value my whole person as an artist as much as I value art itself.

Art is a gift I give myself every day. I do that by thinking about what I’m missing & asking myself what do we need to be immersed in artistically to survive & feel connected in this world?

Ⓒ Niliema Karkhanis

Note: I was going to make this part of my series on the writing process. But it felt very personal, a reflection of what I’ve been through in the past year in general & as a writer. So I thought I’d post it as a musing. Also to encourage you to love & nourish your art self.

💜 nrk

Ethereal contemplations

Photo by Dollar Gill from Unsplash

Weathered elations

Untimely frustrations

Engineered correlations


Characteristic hesitations

Courted associations

Dependent celebrations


Tender complications

Hidden striations

Mystical revelations


Fortuitous incantations

Assorted colourizations

Paramount exulations

© Niliema Karkhanis

Of meaninglessness

Photo by Alexandru Acea from Unsplash

Why are we hurt by certain things when we know our worth is greater than what has been done to us? Of course this is an eternal question.

We do all of the things. Self-care, work-to-avoid, soothe, distract, etc… & yet the pain never goes. It’s always hurt from things that shouldn’t be of such great consequence which is all the more unnerving.

I mean often of course it is a great trauma, & the depths of grief seem an endless traverse. This, however justifies itself through the healing process, because we know it was significant, such as the death of a parent, for example.

Those things though which are blips in our lives, or perhaps hadn’t much to do with us in terms of how we experience them, how we are treated, they can last for too long, our hearts enduring immeasurable suffering as a result.

I suppose that’s exactly the point, the most meaningless things are the most lingering. We put meaning into something relational or structural, & its eternal return happens to be meaninglessness. That’s very problematic on our bodies.

Perhaps there is nothing emptier than giving meaning to life & having it returned as cold confusion & meaninglessness.

Ⓒ Niliema Karkhanis

You can take that love & do something wonderful with it… 💜

You can take that love & do something wonderful with it...

You can read it here:


© Niliema Karkhanis

You can take that love & do something wonderful with it 💜

Photo by
Andreas Wohlfahrt
from Pexels

Something stolen like that has to be remade or returned. It has to be taken & reinspired or it has to be reciprocated. One, the other or some. But not none.

It wasn’t love meant for me. & broken-hearted, I come to accept this.

Let it multiply in quantum even when you can’t feel it.

You can take that love & do something splendourous with it.

I hoped some form of friendship, love could find me in my sickness. I have arrived on my own, that’s how I’ll leave.

Sometimes love is a gift given. A gift received. Sometimes it is taken. & I have to accept that.

Sometimes love is about the taking & in the end in the midst of the circles of things, you leave yourself to be. You push yourself away & you hold yourself close until you can make it again.

© Niliema Karkhanis