Devil in Disguise

O wanderer’ be warned, for what is presumed might not always be true:
what is shown might be an act of play;
and what is said might be a word of mere fiction

For the concealed does not always meet the eyes,
what is hidden beneath does never raise a suspicion,
the dark shadows after all, might not be so empty;
what lurks behind will not always be revealed

so be weary when you get near
for what you may presume to be grass swinging in air,
could be a fearsome monster’s hair,
trying to lurk you into it’s lair.

“Be wise of the devil in disguise”

Thanks for reading,
Nabeeha Sayed Shaikh


“I am not sure that I exist, actually. I am all the writers that I have read, all the people that I have met, all the women that I have loved; all the cities I have visited.”

-Jorge Luis Borges

I’d come across this quote on Pinterest and it has been on my mind ever since.

Maybe it’s the teenage identity crisis or the influence of the ever-enlarging media, while constantly trying to re-invent myself, always trying to be different than everyone else, I have developed this feeling of what if I end up becoming a copy and not an original.

If I start pulling quotes too much from my favourite books and start reciting the poems of my favourite poets too often will all my thoughts just be borrowed and nothing else?

Will I end up being an echo?

As it is our times here are limited, what if I am unable to reinvent myself enough to be an original?

In me, I have this ambition of being new, something novel, I have this ambition of being me.

With all this said, here’s my version of this quote:

Do I exist?
At first I was sure, I exist,
and I am me,
but what was it to be me?
what were the thoughts that I called my own?

Harry1 inspired me to “burn with my natural passions”,
but it became difficult for me to find them.
Thoreau told me to “launch myself on every wave“,
but at the time I didn’t understand what it meant.
Whitman reminded me to “contribute my verse”,
But what was “my” verse?

Jorge Luis then added his share,
I am a mixture of everything that was there!
“I am all the writers that I have read,
all the people that I have met,
all the women that I have loved;
all the cities I have visited,
all my ancestors.”

And then I realised,
that there was also more to me;
I am all the choices I have made,
all the adventures I have taken,
all the lies I have told,
and all the words I have chosen

I am all the calories I gained,
all the tears that I lost,
all the stuff toys beside my bed,
all the clothes in my loft.

There were parts of me everywhere,
afterall I did have my “natural passions”
and I did launch myself on new waves
and I had contributed my verse

I didn’t end up being an echo,
learned my lessons from Dorian2,
realised there was so much more in me,
that only I could give!

1- another name for Lord Henry Wotton in Oscar Wilde’s novel, The Picture Of Dorian Gray
2- protagonist of Oscar Wilde’s novel, The Picture Of Dorian Gray

The people I have mentioned in the poem:
1. Thoreau- Henry David Thoreau
2. Whitman- Walt Whitman
3. Jorge Luis- Jorge Luis Borges

To add on, here’s some Lord Henry philosophies/inspirations (which also happens to be one of my favourite quotes ever from a book)

“There is no such thing as a good influence, Mr. Gray. All influence is immoral-immoral from the scientific point of view……
Because to influence a person is to give him one’s own soul. He does not think his natural thoughts, or burn with his natural passions. His virtues are not real to him. His sins, if there are such things as sins, are borrowed. He becomes an echo of some one else’s music, an actor of a part that has not been written for him. The aim of life is self-development. To realise one’s nature perfectly–that is what each one of us is here for. People are afraid of themselves, nowadays. They have forgotten the highest of all duties, the duty that one owes to one’s self. Of course, they are charitable. They feed the hungry and clothe the beggar. But their own souls starve and are naked……………..”

Ok Bye!
Thanks for reading!


The curse of imagination

For once there lived a queen,
the most beautiful the eyes had ever seen
with umber hair and ebony eyes,
with a soft touch and pretty smiles.

In the kingdom she was often the topic of the talk,
for most were bewitched by her breathtaking walk

she was a fighter, a warrior,
strong to butcher a head
and she was brilliant and clever
and smart to compose a tale

her stories and verses of princes and beasts,
of monstrosities and witches
and of all good and evil
were known everywhere by scholars and kings
and praises of her, all children would sing

Then once in the town came a maiden so fair,
with admirable beauty and raven hair
Upon her arrival, her presence was known
and soon came her invite to meet the throne

Through the court when she walked,
all eyes followed her,
and all the lips that talked,
were now quiet in her grandeur

The queen too saw,
that all her beauty was true,
but the feminist she was,
she wanted to see what this girl could do

“What lies behind those curls?
What’s there more those eyes could offer?
Is there more to that mind of yours?
Or are only your looks that you have to declare as yours?”
[asked the queen]

“Poetries and Stories,
Painting and Pottery
My mother made sure I learned them well
Swordsmanship and Archery
Were learned under my father’s charge”;
[replied she]

“Swordsmanship you say,
let’s see how well you play”

Soon a day was fixed
and a time and a place
to declare who was the better, and who the best

their fight went on, for an hour, then two,
even then no one knew, who was gonna win and who’d lose.

Still with no winner declared,
the girl stole hearts,
for no one else before her,
had dared take such a task.

Overcome with anger, and jealousy
and envy and spite,
the queen cursed the girl to suffer all her life.
she cursed her with imagination : to think of unrealities, to mess with her senses, and all the truths.


It is said that the girls ancestors still roam the earth today,
with their dreams and thoughts, all spiraled away,
You’ll see them scribbling, and walking and talking,
and their heads in a different world than in which they stay

This was a fun one to write.

This was highly inspired by overthinking and the Myth of Arachne
Here’s a link to a ted-ed video of the Tale of Arachne, Click here
And here’s a link to the Cambridge definition of overthinking, Click here (As if that was needed)

Anyways, good to be back



don’t ever ask for love
and never expect it in return
for what is asked is borrowed
and what is borrowed has to be returned

don’t lose yourself in finding love
for if it’s love, you will be found

don’t put up an act to be loved
don’t fall in love with an act
be bare and love the soul,
for if you can’t then it was never love at all

don’t forget to love
don’t love to forget
don’t forget and love
don’t love and forget

don’t start what you cannot take to the end
don’t make a promise bound to be broken

if you love,
don’t be afraid to express it
if you love,
then blatantly accept it

don’t equate love with authority
don’t expect rules to be followed
for love is wild
and all is fair

don’t be jealous in love,
for if it was yours, it can never be stolen
and what was not can never be given

don’t be afraid to let go of love,
people fall out of love
and sometimes, they were never in love

be caring in love
be sharing in love
let love make u better
let love be beautiful

above all, love thine self the most
for no other heart can love you as much as yours

Writing and posting after a very long time.

Thanks for reading,
hope you enjoyed

Nabeeha Sayed Shaikh

Letting Go

When once moments of joy,
become moments of despair
when quitting seems not like losing,
but rather letting go;
leave what u r holding
tight in ur hands
for once a wilful friend,
now seems like a captive being forced
it is not necessary to smile
sometimes, let the tears roll
it’s time to let it go.

At times as friendships and relations mature, their bonds grow old and retire, it is human nature and our instinct at these times that tell us it is our responsibility to hold tight onto these bonds and mend them, it is a desperate attempt that we give to preserve what was once treasured out of our fear of losing what once we cherished.

However these futile attempts might leave us more miserable at times.
When letting go, we do not only allow someone to leave but also make space in our mind. Letting go is not letting go the friendships that was cherished, it’s not losing the treasures or the memories preserved, it is only walking ahead with them.

Thanks for reading, bye

Some days

It’s okay for some days to pass by
Without much accomplished tasks;
It’s okay for some days to just sit and see
Without much thought to appreciate beauty

Somedays will be lazy
And some will be burnt-out
It’s fine to take a break
And just lay in your couch

Some days there won’t be much to tick off
And it feels like a day wasted away;
It’s fine to zone out of the moment
To make moments in another space

Not all days you live; your heart will beat actively always (poetic reference only*)
Somedays it will be fast and somedays it will be slow (poetic reference only*)
The feeling of uselessness on you might grow
It’s okay to not have thought about others for a day

Its okay for days to not expect to wake up early
And its okay to binge watch late night tv (or youtube if you don’t have a tv*)

But these moments are momentary days;
with time they pass by
to pave ways for new mornings to come
and new days to be lived in joy

hence, some days sleep in
and wake up brighter and fresh
for tomorrow will be a better glory
tomorrow the sun shall shine more bright

and then spend time in smiles
shower your charm as you go by

I remember a time in last year; when I was overwhelmed; too overwhelmed for my own good. And from that time I remember the words my mom said to us on dinner table:

Whatever you do each day, give your fullest and do your best at it. Even if it’s being lazy, be lazy to the fullest. But then the next day get up and do your best.

_My Mummy

So it’s fine to be lazy, as long as you get up the next day.
You know we sometimes need a break from being our own selves and do NOTHING.
So it’s fine.

Bye, until next time

To my future self

{Who needs cakes and disco when you’ve got a pineapple wearing sunglasses and a birthday cap party🥳🥳}

To my future self:

I hope you no longer overthink
To my future self i hope you’ve passed the long nights

I hope you’re still with the ones you love and
Still hold on to relationships
But also that u can still let go those that are gone

I hope u don’t feel like the only one holding on,
Now that they’ve moved on
I wish you can soon too

Soon u may learn to drive;
But before that i hope you realise the destiny of your life
I wish you know to steer in the direction that’s right

Maybe u’ll soon donate blood;
That’s good;
But wishing those bond by blood are still with you

I hope you can forgive the one’s who’ve wronged you;
And you can forget the mistakes of your past

I hope those nightmares no more haunt you
And that you look to sleep with slumber in eyes rather than a dreaded sight

When the breeze touches your face; i hope you smile
To my future self; i pray that you always smile

I hope everyday you look into the mirror and see a beautiful reflection;
Its ok u say; i hope u all wellness and joy

I hope you don’t exercise primary relationships where love is based on secondary relationships

This was something I’d written to myself sometime ago for my birthday, and it feels good to read it now.

Besides the last line being a reference to chp 2 of my sociology tb, the others mention things rather achievements that we must look forward to not only on birthdays but on every beginning that every morning brings.
These things are the mini goals that I wish we all can achieve.

Happy Birthday to myself and Bye!,
Until next time!
still Nabeeha

A different love story

She was a mammonite at best,
had greedy pursuit of riches

He was one of her acquaintances
And had a ventripotent’s quest

A contrasting pair
But they sufficed for each other:-

She was mastered in cooking the delicacies of the globe,
To feed him well the flavours of the world

And he was a man of decent fortune, enough to last a life,
To spend on all the gowns, she’d buy with his coins

So a simple marriage one day was held,
To unite both of them in Gods’ presence

Two days had passed since they’d wed
He was happy and well fed And She took care of his wealth

But soon like a storm came a shocking call
She picked it up and it took a toll
The man she’d married was in debt
Her dreams shattered and her plan had failed

Aggressive and mad and angry and annoyed
When his man came home,
She handed him a glass of wine
Sitting beside the ingle they drank
Together for the very last time

Their kirking now was into a funeral transformed
The couple who’d married and gone in a timwhisky two days ago
Now came in a car and in a casket engraved

With the same lips that she’d taken her marriage oaths,
She now recited his requiescat

mammonite: one devoted to the acquisition of wealth
ventripotent: having a large belly or appetite.
kirking: the attendance of a newly married person or couple at church for the first time after marriage.
timwhisky: light carriage for one or two people, pulled by one or two horses
requiescat: a wish or prayer for the repose of a dead person.
ingle: a domestic fire or fireplace.

Wrote this poem, with the use of some new found words,
Hope you liked reading it

Thanks for reading,
See you next time,
Nabeeha Sayed


Those nonchalant smiles,
innocent lies and calming eyes
ask for my attention
as they prey on my ignorance

just a blink of an eye,
and only for a second the shadow reveals itself
before they once again put on their mask
hiding the creature behind the curtains

I look away
and those smiles turn into grievous howls
those calming eyes, dripping blood from them
yet, when i look back once again
the bright light blinds me
into believing what i shouldn’t be

keep your friends close and your enemies closer;
but not taught how to differentiate well
and they know this–
their spell of charm,
always succeeds in throwing me off guard
before i fall prey to their innocence once more
and like a predator, they devour me with their screeching growls

but life comes a full circle,
and they don’t know if they’re the creature
i am their end
i fall for the tricks of theirs,
allow them to get a little closer to me
they make plans and i give them the temporary satisfaction
i play my part so well
all the theatre lessons put into use skillfully
and they never realise that-
i am the cause and creator of their plans
they move like pawns on my command
demanding only my dumb look to give them a hint of their success
but i do all this
only so that I can devour their bits
then it will be my chance to play dumb
as they feel themselves go numb…

Thanks for reading;
Until next time;
Nabeeha Shaikh

Found Poetry

Found poetry is a type of poetry created by taking words, phrases, and sometimes whole passages from other sources and reframing them (a literary equivalent of a collage) by making changes in spacing and lines, or by adding or deleting text, thus imparting new meaning. [Wikipedia]

So I too decided to try ‘found poetry’ from a book that was the closest to me at the moment — My Psychology textbook;

Here you go:

"you will realise
we all live at the mercy of our

Here’s another one:

we cannot imagine
monotonous and mechanical
purposeful and meaningful"
A snippet of my psychology tb

That’s it, Thanks for reading; see u around next time
Nabeeha Sayed 🙂