Preamble
Welcome to Thinking Moon’s new category, Indie Sundays. I have pledged to read more indie books this year. I would like to discover and promote indie creators. They who are the next big thing, waiting in the wings of art to be propelled into the spotlight, and who am I to deny them their break? So please enjoy this new, albeit sporadic category. Filled with authors, movie-makers, poets, artists, and just the general misc of cool people the world would be grey without.
N.F Mirza
Speaking of grey without, our inaugural Indie Sunday extraordinary brings such colour to my life. N. F Mirza is the blogger Stoner On A Rollercoaster, and I have been following her for around two years now. They blog about their journey through depression and anxiety which I sadly empathise with. They create beautiful works of art, and I have been a fan of their aptly touching prose and gentle craft since I discovered them. When I heard that they had a book of poetry in the pipeline I immediately pre-ordered it.
Today I will be reviewing their debut poetry collection “Swinging Sanity,” which I devoured this weekend, over cups of coffee. Here is that review in all its finery, and can I say, dear Mirza, it gave me life.
Swinging Sanity – Review
As far as debuts go, this is up there with the greats for me. I am a poetry fanatic, and very sensitive about its conjuncture. This wonderfully cathartic, yet tragic piece of work filled the gaps of my broken heart, as she waxed about pain, love, life, and the pursuit of elusive joy.
The work is divided into five parts, each a protective canopy over its subject matter. Beginning with “Screaming Numbness” we are treated to exquisitely painful lyrics about suffering and mental illness.
“I am numb, I miss pain, Oh Pain!” – Just Like A Drop Of Water
“Then I hold the little spear, like a plume in the hands of a poet.” – Celebrating The Curse
“That horrid vortex finally spat me out I am stunned to be alive.” – Anything But Sane
We press on into the pages of “Love & Loss” as she tells her tales from the world of love. As humans, we are never free from pain. We are allowed moments of beauty as a reprieve between the senseless chaos of the universe.
“My ebony hair free from confines, as you like it, now don’t rush, watch how the end unfolds.” – A Poem I Can’t Name
“I saw a glimpse of excruciating agony.” – “A Dying Heart
“And I saw your last breath, Ascend to the sky, flying away, with a piece of me.” – When You Slept
“Where Earth would cradle my soul, to the rhythm of screaming water.” – This Is How I Want To Sleep
When the flushes of pain and joy are over we are treated to poems about the “Day and Night“. Her suffering mind remembers these times so vividly, and her fascination of the night sky appeals to fellow insomniac in me.
“The sun tirelessly shone all day, Still failed, To Ease this murky dark abyss, That’s made my mind it’s home.” – A Long Wordless Day
“I Remember those tiny fireflies, chasing each other into the darkness.” “When time wouldn’t fly, and the clocks were noiseless.” – Those Enchanting Nights
“Squalling for mercy.” – Nightmare Again.
Life is a dazzling series of confusion and clarity. Mirza’s section, “C’est La Vie” has some hard truths about the world we try to live in. When I read these lines they ignite in me my own fears, wonders, and imagination.
“My smouldering blistering tears…were ignored and denied, now sear my skin, in the dead dark cave of my anonymity.” – Cave Of My Anonymity
“They didn’t tell me, This demonic ritual, will slowly morph me, Into another fierce royal blue dragon.” – Fierce Royal Blue Dragon
“My nails look dirty too, Like I dug my way, Out of a grave.” “But I look great, prettier, happier than I ever looked, just like the rest of the crowd.” – Carnival
The final section “Random Thoughts,” is just that, and we see the author grappling with the suffering of now, hopefully, one day leading to the freedom of tomorrow. Out of struggle, so will the time of quiet victory, and self-assurance be born. Where those of us with kindness, walk alongside those of difficult persuasions. She closes the collection strong leaving us both elated with hope, and sturdy with solidarity. Please buy this poetry collection, it is too exquisite to remain unread.
“And one day, we will wake up, From this grim nightmare…Embellished with grime…But Hearts, Clear as glass.” – One Day
“Fueling my soul, I wait for my turn, I don’t waste tears.” – Waiting For My Turn
“Or to be, Like Ocean, Deep and blue, Holding a chunk of universe, In its womb.” – Blue
“And I see you…High on ignorance.” – A Million Dead Stars
“I pull out the last scroll, And scribble few enduring syllables…” – Last Poem Of October
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