tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73977589606349250622024-02-23T20:03:33.602-06:00Dreams, Deliriums, and Other Mind TalkConscious and Subconscious Expression by Nevine SultanNevine Sultanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08794887684860140819noreply@blogger.comBlogger163125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7397758960634925062.post-1871115931115465002022-11-19T14:10:00.001-06:002022-11-19T14:10:38.990-06:00Salt 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-24418675027617941342020-10-25T07:53:00.006-05:002020-10-26T10:26:00.252-05:00TranscendArt 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-41701731537470531652019-07-03T08:29:00.000-05:002019-07-03T09:22:33.190-05:00Fierce Equanimity
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-38291832569227453752019-02-22T16:27:00.000-06:002019-02-22T16:28:56.111-06:00Confluence
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-91271556773114974762018-10-19T17:31:00.003-05:002018-10-19T17:32:50.134-05:00Elemental: A Meditation
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-18030807807275529382018-06-22T18:49:00.000-05:002018-06-22T18:52:47.020-05:00Ceremonial
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-2282721744194211852018-05-22T05:48:00.000-05:002018-05-25T04:10:51.715-05:00A Glimmering Viridescence
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,
INevine Sultanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08794887684860140819noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7397758960634925062.post-64290442855939143772018-02-25T08:20:00.004-06:002018-02-25T08:20:57.975-06:00The Anatomy of Wonder
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-25460444386703493292018-01-21T07:21:00.000-06:002018-01-21T07:21:00.119-06:00Shine
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-20175945339220758282017-12-27T16:34:00.001-06:002017-12-27T17:04:14.697-06:00Anti-Gravity
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-27615338769845005522017-09-04T09:07:00.001-05:002017-09-04T09:07:36.750-05:00Untethered Inquiry
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-9455327685120711362017-06-03T17:53:00.001-05:002017-06-03T17:53:21.388-05:00Cautious Renaissance
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-263109716305306062016-02-27T05:53:00.000-06:002016-02-27T05:53:01.965-06:00Autoethnography
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-60599566185000344432015-06-21T08:49:00.000-05:002015-09-14T20:02:08.510-05:00Double Solstice
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-88564375771099695492015-06-11T18:54:00.000-05:002015-06-13T06:53:35.574-05:00A New Publication, my PhD, and Other Certainties
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-1683747314614467972015-04-28T20:22:00.000-05:002015-05-30T05:32:52.928-05:00Eclipse
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-82564127768401468692015-03-14T16:48:00.000-05:002015-03-14T16:48:31.485-05:00Gravity and Grace
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-37950596226715204772015-02-07T08:58:00.002-06:002015-02-07T11:21:36.012-06:00Between Breath and Body
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-55733737315551512452015-01-01T13:14:00.000-06:002015-01-01T13:14:10.988-06:00Hello, 2015!
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-3452710059388132892014-11-02T15:12:00.001-06:002014-11-03T06:12:38.752-06:00Trompe l'oeil
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-14563436375009557212014-09-28T13:36:00.002-05:002014-09-28T13:36:51.753-05:00In the Real Garden
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-62219726583412288462014-09-01T12:50:00.000-05:002014-09-01T12:50:46.361-05:00Pastoral
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-44550464653089474272014-07-03T15:12:00.000-05:002014-07-03T15:17:19.655-05:00Density and Divinity
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-42752490055766948652014-05-17T18:16:00.000-05:002014-05-25T17:13:48.018-05:00Naiad
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-39226535701873878602014-04-18T16:12:00.003-05:002014-04-18T16:12:45.404-05:00Descent
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