Sunday, May 30, 2010

MAY SOLSTICE/SILK ROAD SOLACE/MAY BLUES


                                                  Painting By Zohreh Khaleghi
#35 May

*MAY SOLSTICE
Time of ruby rubay
With a rose in your tress
May solstice.

* SILK ROAD SOLACE
Lashes of shade
Shade of silk
Silk on the road!

*MAY BLUES
(Haikuesque in length)

Follow the river
Follow the road
For what's on your side
Falling on you.
Rubble of you
Ruinning in you as
What's falling on you .
It is a time to say a graceful farewell
All remains is window
And the night.
It is a veil of words
Veiling you
Behind the wall
Hidden in the air.
It is a romantic link
Broken in links
Digitally
Or on the dish.
Oh spread the blue shade
On your velvet lashes
Bridge the unabridged
By ridges to the infinity.
A path unknowingly going
A path through you.
O.K! O.K!The future is all belongs to you
I just wanted to share the past tenses
With you
When you think of the past.

Sunday , 5/30/2010
The lasts of "May Mahi"

Saturday, May 29, 2010

O ANNAPOLIS OF SOLSTICE!

Schooners hatching horizon
Hands in hands and faraway
Either by azure or
In awe of love
Mounting the hills in valley of the bay.
O Annapolis of solstice !

5/28/2010

Thursday, May 27, 2010

BORNAIHA



*It is a book you open everyday
for sharing heartfelt sympathy and condolences


When you open your eyes
To open the doors of the world
It is a book you open everyday
But can not flip to pages
Till it becomes tablets
Or a wall.
And we follow you to the gates
of heavens
every time
We think of you.
Life is Haiku.

*DR BORNA MEISAMI FARD,
my son,my friend,my colleague
b.MAY 28,1967,TEHRAN
d.JULY 1,2007,NEW YORK CITY
See More: my Farsi poems in:
www.rendaan.blogspot.com/june2010

Wednesday, May 26, 2010

PARVIZ SHAPUR's KARIKALMATURپرویز شاپور




عمران صلاحی در راه بهشت زهرا پرده را پس می زند و از شاپورخان می پرسدد:کجاداری میری؟و شاپورخان درپاسخ می گوید جایی نمیرم. همین الان برمی گردم
ف.س 


BREAKING NEWS: This just arrived.
Once it was raining hard and Ahmad Shamlu was running to take the last bus .Parviz Shapur appeared on his way and said:
Don't rush ,I take you home.
-Do you have a car?Shamlu asked.
No,Shapur said,I have an umbrella.

...AND NOW WE ALL WEAR A BLACK RAINBOW IN YOUR MEMORIAL.

PARVIZ SHAPUR,also PARVIZ SHAPOUR,PERSIAN پرویز شاپور CARICATURIST,KARIKALMATURIST
b. 5 Khordad 1302/May 26,1923 Ghom
D.15 mordad 1378/ Aug 6,1999 Tehran
Shapur,also Shapur khan,published 5 volumes of Karikalmatur,a term coined by Ahmad Shamlu,as a corruption and  fusion of CARICATURE+KALAMEH(WORD).
Here  are some translations of his works from Parviz Shapur's selected Karikalmatur,Nashr Honar,1369/1990,USA
See More:Bijan Assadipour's special issue of Parviz Shapur,Asheghaneh,Houston

*Salam is a bridge connecting two loneliness.
*Salam is the most humble word.
*All the people of the world keep silence in one language.
*I sent the sun to the land of the nights,in exile.
*Clouds are unripe rain.
*Nobody's life has more up and down than the elevator man's.
*Swimming of the fish takes a lifetime.
*With my tears I wrote a preface to the ocean.
*Ocean is the collection of rain drops.
*I burried the old water jet in waterfall.
*My life's calendar had no spring.
*As I am not in the mood of suicide,I live.
*When I think of death,Azrael cheers for me.
*When i saw azrael i pretended to be dead
*My heart announced silence in honor of my death
*Death is the peak of life.
*After dying I breathe negative breath
* My tombstone is so heavy that it is impossible to breathe.
* I am not going to even take responsibility of writings on my tombstone.
*In my will ,I asked to have three tombstones for the winter.
* I dedicated my body to cemetery.
*My world ends to the late Parviz Shapur...

Tr.by: F.Soleimani

Tuesday, May 25, 2010

JOSEPH BRODSKY's B-D



JOSEPH BRODSKY,Major Russian Poet and Essayist
b. May 24,1940,Leningrad
d.Jan 28,1996,New York City
Joseph Brodsky,a major Russian poet was smeared in 1964 in a trial for "social parasitism" by social parasites in power.He won the Nobel Prize in literature,in 1987 for :
"all - embracing authorship imbued with clarity of thought and poetic intensity."
Although a political activist,Brodsky's poetry is " language and ,presumably literature."
They "are more more ancient and inevitable,more durable than any form of social organization.The revulsion,irony,or indifference often expressed by literature toward the state is essentially the reaction of the permanent-better yet,the infinite-against the temporary ,against the finite."
Brodsky's final works are:
A Part of Speech,poetry collection,1980
History of 20th Century,1986
To urania,1988
Less Than One,essays collection,1986

*ROMAN ELEGIES:
XII
Lean over.I'll whisper something to you:I am
grateful for everything : for the chicken cartilage
and for the chirr of scissors already cutting
out the void for me-for it is your hem.
Doesn't matter if it is pitch-black,doesn't matter if
it holds nothing:no ovals,no limbs to count.
The more invisible something is
the more certain it's been around
and the more obviously it's everywhere.You
were the first to whom all this happened,were you?
For a nail holding something one would divide by two-
were it not for remainders-there is no gentler quarry.
I was in Rome.I was flooded by light.The way
a splinter can onlty dream about.
Golden coins on the retina are to stay-
enough to last one through the whole blackout.
Tr.from Russian by the poet
HAPPY b-d JOSEH BRODSKY

Monday, May 24, 2010

IT RAINS IN SOUTHERN ILLINOIS

marion clock tower
modified 10.4.11


To:MBR

*It Rains in Southern Illinois

It rains in Southern Illinois
I hear the farmers rooster
entertaining on the roof.
Playing point
we point to play
our old memories
saved for years in the mind
or just fake.

In Rend Lake
I see a sea of "Rendan"
coming to dotcoming
in the silent Marina
with no tourists.

We miss Crab Orchard Lake
in the crowd
under sunny blue sky.

Pacing a guilty wind
grating the fog
singing blues
on the crossroads.

As innocent as an old revolutionary
ardent hearts slipping into the bed of
a rolling gypsy.
the home of a homeless
just was born
in the middle of nowhere.

A magic realist bird
came to the kitchen
and closed the window
to the night.

On the top of a ladder
someone is pouring paint
on the pavement.
Marion is all murals
in Tower Square
and someone on the ladder
painting someone
on the ladder.

Be young in Deyoung
with new Main Street
delighted with desire,
Marion has a Main Street
and a Main Street
like twice the old days America
not being devoured by suburbs.

We tour around Marion Clock Tower
in red brick
white collar
and green hat.
It is the sister of Sari Clock Tower
standing tall all by herself
independent and in mutiny.

No metal rattle
no howl of breaks
or urgency to break
no light to stop traffic
or life.
simply just no "NO!"
or "DO NOT!"

The road to St.Louis
stayed course
raining in my hat
and pockets of your raincoat.
wherever we go
it is raincloud
travelling with us.

In Union Station
We jump off the rain bridge
into City Garden.

Proud are the poles
of Gateway Arch
bending with eyes on the west
(and the east)

Gateway Arch up there
Above Ole Miss Sisipi River
looking at green pond
and thinking of hanging garden of Babel.
Confused and curious,
her tongue is as confused as her gaze.

Parade of erected Zigurats
always going round up
and digging
never bent for going down.

Arcade of rain.
Who wants to sing under a waterfall
tonight?

In downtown
I got off Corolla
to meet Bob Cassilly ,a native son,and peers in City Museum ,b. 1997
with his 4-foot-wideslinkys and
76-foot-long No.2 Pencil
(now dead at 61 under his innovative artworks)
and The Sculpture garden

Not much willing now
to see Wheeling,W Va.
Storm brought me here.

Breezewood,Md
Bringing me back with you
I raise a glass of rain
and CHEERS!

Gone with the wind
a gypsy rose
still sitting in shade of blue.

For a free carwash I drove 2000 miles.
Wasn't this done by machines
before sky took over?

I t was called:
"Civilized Invasion"
Once Flo however said.
I did not penetrate
civilized or in vasion
and still you felt in
vasion.
A version in vain
if you will.
A silent presence
in a silent presence for all and none
a rule of
"Tout ou Rien"
unrully run.
So consensual
for the sakes of both parties.
That's how life goes.
No matter if years passed
or still
still.

And still it rains so hard
in Southern Illinois.

This rose was abandonned and bent
I put a ring on her
Rose garden grew up.
O magic miracle of mirage.
Then her aura sprang  and squirted
her garden withered
I heard HICHKAS(nobdy)
singing in the dark:
"Good days will come
When we do not kill each other
Do not look bad upon each other
A day we are friends
And hug each other
Like in our school days..."and
Home away from home
my destiny is universe.
my Marion is marinated
in the rainy road rage.
Is she trying to unpoet a poet?!
now that
It rains so hard
in Southern Illinois

MARION,ILLINOIS. and on the road
MAY 21-22,2010

LIFE AFTER MISS SOURI

                                               Painting By Zohreh Khaleghi

Accidental ectstasy
In lost pictures
Gone are cherry blossoms
And the white rose.
A regal silence is broken
By souvenirs and the brown stone heart.
A parade of immitations and real.
We leap to ourselves
From a long bridge.
Your city's loneliness
Itching in your voice
Which is lost like
Cherry blossoms
And the white rose.
Sitting naked in the rain
For rvelation
To see mystic mist
Rising from sculptures of
City Garden,
A parvis.
After meandering the mountain pass
Bleeding in storm
Worthy of regards.
It took a bitter rough road
To the lost word cavern
Then I let her fly away
To the mist of
Tween waterfalls.
Silent mouth unable to live
Or cry
But just ecstasy
An accidental ecstasy
Awashed
When flying away
And lost in itching voice
Like cherry blossoms
And the white rose.

ST.LOUIS,MO
MAY20,2010

ODE TO THE GOATS-2

www.facebook.com/DR FARAMARZ SOLEIMANI
*ODE TO THE GOATS
-to:MBR
Goats are lovers too
with a horny love
tied in between the grazing raptures.

Chevre cheese between the two
Schism hooked by knots
A horny love.

Horn to horn
Horny goats
Herding their horns

-Marion,Il .
5/22

ODE TO THE GOATS-1



*ODE TO THE GOATS
-to:MBR

Chevre cheese in schism

Goats on the rocks

Cheers!
Cheers to the cheese
Cheers to the goats
A horny love.

-f.s.

Marion,Southern Illinois farmlands

Monday, May 17, 2010

LOS ANGELESEE-30: LAST TIME I SAW YOUبرای منصورخاکسار

*Last Time I Saw You :
for MANSOUR KHAKSAR
Last time I saw you
you were sitting in a blank page
on a wheeled carry on.
no current is lost
at last
forever.
No scepter
to stop
The current.
I thought may be it wasn't
Last time I saw you
And you have never been there
Until the wind scattered your ashes
In the ocean.

LOS ANGELESEE-29: LAST SUPPER

*LAST SUPPER
You kept telling yourself
This was your last supper
on the road
To ashes
And water
.....

Sunday, May 16, 2010

LOS ANGELESEE-28 : YOU WERE TENSE AND STRESSED OUT

*YOU WERE TENSE AND STRESSED OUT
poor sinner
You were tense and stressed out
And you cut your way
To the day .
The wind
was waiting for ashes .
.....

Wednesday, May 12, 2010

LOS ANGELESEE-27 :SILENT ALEXANDRIA


                                            Painting By Zohreh Khaleghi

ALEXANDRIA , VIRGINIA

There Is No Pain Compared To That Of
Having A Woman Who Is Incapable Of Delivering Herself.
--LAWRENCE DURRELL:
"ALEXANDRIA QUARTET"

Sometimes Love Arrives Dignified and Harmonious.

I came to see you
In silence
And without a companion .
You were silent Alexandria
Forgotten and asleep
Without
A companion.

Sometimes love arrives dignified and harmonious .

In return from hidden road
Sitting lonely in a lonely room
Leaning out pregnant
Of panorama
You are looking through the window
Between two hesitant shores.
The acrid taste of the earth
And the running water
Agaist upstream
Carving the soil in halves
Faraway from one another.
Gazing against deep
A weary phone is ringing constantly
To no avail of apathic answer.
Storms turning around
Like thunders and storms
Of a thunder horse
In thunderstorm .
An anxious dishevelled phone
Still ringing perpetually
In silence
To make you stormy.
Someone
Between us
medleying in vain.
Is the world leaving
or still around?

The Silent Alexandria
Leaves the sun behind
To the bay
Behind the row of trees or condos
Now empty staring.
Behind the window
Lost in the sun
The blue bird
Hitthing window of the night
With that silver boat
In a naked finger
When love arrives gripping and lost.
No sceptre to stop the currents
And star thistle
Continues its way
On the river

How do I find in the blue
Someone
Stained in snow or
Pure.

SOMETIMES LOVE ARRIVES,DIGNIFIED,
HARMONIOUS
AND LOST.
SOMETIMES
YOU LOOSE IT
IF YOU LOOSE IT
IN STORM OR
HIDDEN AIR.
NO STORM COMES BACK IF IT IS LEAVING IN STORM.
NO LOVE IS LOVE IF IT IS BROKEN IN
SHATTERED WINDOWS
OF A DARKNESS INTO THE NIGHT
OR SCATTERED HERE AND THERE,

O
Silent Alexandria of the day of oblivion
And still
Untouchable in nonchalance.
O SILENT ALEXANDRIA OF FOREVER
NOT FORGIVING
IN FOREVERNESS!

It is a sea of pearl
Perpetually leaving
The window

I'm not crying
For your crying
Anymore!
You know that
Sometimes love comes
Harmonious and
Dignified.
Be capable of delivering yourself!
When time arrives.

An anxious and dishelved phone still ringing
In vain
It should be from somewhere
Or someone who does not respect
The silence.

I always thought
When the river is drying up
the dry thing is drying up
In the river
So the river is dying.

Gripping and lost
Sometimes love arrives
Lost in the sun
Walking around
Between two shores.
Again that silver boat
In a naked finger
When sometimes Love arrives.

The storm
Won't fit into our shared narrative
But it was just a conjecture
Of future.
Future is faraway
In the fog
Past is hidden in hidden air
So why your ashes
Is so soon
It won't fit into
Our shared narrative?

I FEEL FOR YOU
O SILENT ALEXANDRIA!
O MY SILENT ALEXANDRIA
OF THE DAY OF FARAWAYNESS!
---
*Written in a trip never made
But still made
In togetherness and farawayness.
A Persian Version may follow this poem ,
or may not.

(modified 5.15.2010)
--F.S.

Monday, May 10, 2010

LOS ANGELESEE-26:BRIDGEING TROUBLED WATER

Fervently awaiting
To scale the sun
When catching this blue fish
Off troubled water
(a.k.a.Pacific.)
A sensational dazzling
Coming out of the hall
A gorgeous gaze when returns.
And an unexpected dream
Walking around in red brick streets
Or at the bay.
Pisces in the cage
Bridgeing troubled water,
I'm still fervently awaiting
To catch the wind
With your ashes!


Sunday, May 9, 2010

A*SH*N*A:NOSRATOLAH MASOUDI:THEY HAVE VANISHED YOU


NOSRATOLAH MASOUDIنصرت اله مسعودی 
فصل فصل عاشقی نبود
اما جنون ِمن
زنجیری ِ زنی شد
که هیچ شباهتی به لیلی نداشت!
---

مخاطب ِخاص دارد این این شعر
دریایی است وُ چهره ساییده به حربر ِموج
ساحل نشین است وُ از قدیم ِشن می آید
شاعر است وُ کدام نسیمی ست
که دلش را
با موج ِ واژه هایش نخوانده باشد.
حواستان جمع!
این شعر مخاطب ِخاص دارد
و این خاصیت عشق هایی ست
که ناگفته، در سینه گم می شوند.

نصرت الله مسعودی

1 / آبان / 92

نه طبابت باز نشستگی دارد
و نه قلبی که بی تردید نمی زند.
گوشی ات به کار ِمن نمی آید،
سرت را روی سینه ام بگذار!

NOSRATOLAH MASOUDI:
THEY HAVE VANISHED YOU
for Mohamad Mokhtari
*
Beside this sea without a kind moon
And the waves passing tiptoe
As the fish wishes
How infinity could have been
With the hospitality of these wall flower
If I have not read in evening newspaper
They have vanished you
For three days.
And your wife
Who knows
All the streets recognizing you
Only fears for abundance of knife and rope
That are staining
The skin
These days.
And the heart
Satisfied with a rose
Is thrown simply in the mud
Beside this sea with a kind moon.
The legend of this mullclad wave
And the lantern of a star
In hands,could pull
A thousand vagrant fairies
Toward this silver shore.
It would be possible
To draw the curve of a skirt
On damp rock
For spectators of tomorrow
Who is running fever
By the flames of dance
And burns silently
For laying head on the groins of memory
In the feast of sand and moonshine
Besides these shells
Who don't listen tonight
Except for song of poplar and tone of wall flower.
This rock
Was worth hearing
If I knew tomorrow
Eyes in eyes with your image
I hung up the heart
And blue ribbon
In corner of that frame
And to the end of autumn
Under the wind of crows
I did not regret for a bunch of skin
No,not anymore
This sea
And that lantern of a lost house
Behind tears
Who goes after
Cemetery of cut tresses
At night.
No,not anymore
This mull of wave
Has escaped the grave
Who wants
To wrap a cable around himself
Who wants blood
To flower in the corner of sky has risen on the rope of gallows.
Ah!Ah the news again
Smells like camphor
The smells of damp wells without pigeons
And songless
And I have to line up,
With respect to friends
Who vanished one after the other,
Your tresses
To the poem of tomorrow I don't know.

Tr.F.Soleimani

See More:
www.rendaan.blogspot.com/nosratolahmassoudi
Farsi:Sep 2009
English:May 2010
www.facebook.com/faramarzsoleimani

LOS ANGELESEE-25: YOU LOST YOUR WORD

#600

*HAIKUESQUE

You lost your word
The night of storm .
It has to be hidden
In silence
Somewhere between you and I
On the road.
O my faraway neighbor
In the wind!


from a long poem

LOS ANGELESEE-24: FLYING WIND AND ASHES

Flying wind and ashes
I seduce you to chanting hidden air
In stratosphere of mystery.
I grow wings in you to fly
While Saturn has her eyes on Mars.
The isle of sky is not falling
When we lean,and
Stalwart storm is dancing in our grip
With a perpetual mystic music
In your pocket.
And the sun boats sailing
On silent bay
When we flourish
To take a picture of the wind.
We were journeying on a silver boat.
A silver boat
In a naked finger
To fly with wind
And ashes

Post 5/5

Saturday, May 8, 2010

TOUGHTS ON PASSAGE

Thoughts on passage
Along the faraway roads
-On the ways of time
To search for spring of light
To search for the end point.

Journey
is all the strange moments
All the distances
In border of ambiguity

Journey Is all the loneliness
In broken bubble of the sun

Journey
Is the splendor of unblossomed blossoms \
with pollens of expectations
and coy lakes.

How can I see you
O mirage!
How can I see you?
And desire of reaching
In  thoughts on passage
To the end point.

If you come to our feast
- O stranger
Come with love!
1354/1975

from FARAMARZ SOLEIMANI's: AVAZHAYE IRANI
Beh Negar,Tehran

This translation is dedicated to all who were born in 1354/1975

Friday, May 7, 2010

LOS ANGELESEE-23:WHITE ROSES BLOOMING IN ME


White roses blooming in me
Are these roses
Still blooming in me?
Behind the sun is a tree
Behind tree
A door opening and closing
In a gaze
In the hidden air
Taking the white rose away.
Are these white roses
Still blooming in me
Or just ashes
Flying with your white tress
 in the wind?


Thursday, May 6, 2010

LOS ANGELESEE-22:IN BLUE VOLCANO

5/5 @ # 10

In blue volcano
Of the bay
I burned the world
And burning you
In blue volcano
Of my poem.

LOS ANGELESEE-21:THE WIND ENDED IN ASHES

We started in rush
And the rush
Started with us
In the rush
And in our starting
If your poem scratched
In my book
It was my fault of starting
With you
In rush.
We came in rush
to the end.
The wind
Ended in
Ashes.


LOS ANGELESEE-20:THAT CROWN ON THE EYES

That crown
On the eyes
Burning before ashes
That crown
Of your pure throat
Facing the sun
And the red wall
Mingled in ruins of the wind.


LOS ANGELESEE-19:O K WITH MAHI MAHI

O K with Mahi Mahi
At  the time of angst
And annoying buiseness phone calls
Although Cherryl did not know
What kind of fish it was
And neither her boss
From the sea.
But what about
sessame oil glaze
mixed with sweet
On the side walk
to entertain?!
Is this sessame street annex
You are gone
with wind and ashes.

I'M JUST PULLING OUT

I"m just pulling out
to make sure
I'm pulling out.
Please make sure
To make sure
you pulling me out
to make sure
I'm pulling out.
tnx sooooo much!
It's a dire
Direction
Towards directions,
Enough of poetry crimes ,
Already.

SOUVENIR FROM HELL

                                                Painting By Zohreh Khaleghi

LOS ANGELESEE-18:UNDER ZIRFUN TREEزی زی

Under zirfun
Who's who in poetry
Under the green of zizfun*

-----
*Zirfun/Zizfun: linden tree  زیرفون / زیزفون
A tree with beautiful scented white flowers.
Also used to kill pain.
Ouch!

-FS

LOS ANGELESEE-17:WITH ASHES AND THE WIND

Warmth of the sun
With ashes and the wind
In the street
Cars and people in storm
Angry sea of the city
And calm bay.
You are the sun
On red bricks
With your pure eyes
Slowly
Slowly
In the unbelieving eyes
Of the wind
By the bay


Wednesday, May 5, 2010

LOS ANGELESEE-15 :IN MY JOURNEY TO YOUR ASHES

*LOS ANGELESEE-15
(MY POTTERY IN POETRY)

For a terrazzo tile
I make a dot
In form of a wave
And glaze it
With an incidental finding
In the wind
"I am riding a wave
To go to realm of your dream
I dream a wave
In my journey
To your ashes"



.....

LOS ANGELESEE-16 :FOR MANSOUR KHAKSAR


(art work: pottery/old woman)

We crowned Cinco de Mayo
With Corona and Marguerita
I invited Mariachi for fiesta
It was the first day of wind and ashes
With a sweet smile
Behind tight lips
And pure eyes.
Do not hold me back
I wanna shout myself and my blood
With a shot of bloody mary.
It was a long night of
The bittersweet bay
Still pouring in me.
I was so dizzy
I had to lean on your ashes
In the wind
And you were carried around...
Then I came up with these thoughts:

It is a cloud of skin
Clouding the road
To skin the road.
Who wants to sit lonely
Hiding
With veins
And nerves
To count the season
To come
And go
In the bay of blood?
Did you see the sun sailing
In the water?
Did you see from behind your ashes
Dancing with the wind?
Beat the missing beat
Cheer up o faraway neighbor
And beat the missing beat
On this cloudy skin.
Wipe out the traces of weeping
Behind the mask.
Tear the windows
Of the night.
A smiling sun coming along
Now just Mariachi are missing
For fiesta of love
In the wind and ashes

Tuesday, May 4, 2010

LOS ANGELESEE-14

A moment in you
In a  moment of breath
A moment at the silent sill
Eyes beating
To repeat staring in awe
A moment
In you.

Monday, May 3, 2010

LOS ANGELESEE-13


                                              Painting By Zohreh Khaleghi

*LOS ANGELESEE
(On hanging tress...)

"On hanging tress
Of wailing horizon
One sided crown"

I am singing again with your throat
Who are singing again with my throat

Marvelling at sky in ebriety
A cubist camera
Kisses the brass

It's been a journey
Now I earth the sun
To water the sunset

Marvelling the sky
O hanging tress of horizon!

.....
.....

Sunday, May 2, 2010

MBR 2010/5

www.facebook.com/faramarzsoleimani
*PERSIAN HERITAGE MAGAZINE*RENDAN,MAY2010*SONBOLEH DAR KHARMAN-E MAAH

* SAMSUM KASHFI:
SONBOLEH DAR KHARMAN-E MAAH/SPIKE IN STACK OF THE MOON
4 BOOKS OF POETRY
PORSA,MARYLAND 2009/1388
This is a compilation of four books of poetry by Samsum Kashfi,the Iranian poet ,and editor of Dar Golestaneh,the poetry section of Iranian Newspaper in Washington,D.C.

SONG 4

What a flame of this lip
How this face is in flames
To calm down the soul of this heart
And these words reaching a conclusion.
I kiss these flames
To be set in fire
And burn them in my ashes.
Another sweet-singing
Is born
P.376

*PERSIAN HERITAGE MAGAZINE
Spring Issue 2
Editor-in-chief: Dr Shahrokh Ahkami
May 2010
mirassiran@gmail.com

*RENDAN , May2010

With works by:
A.Gharaman
A.Saffari
S.Mohamadi
M.Motaghedi
R.Moheb
F.Soleimani
A.Kiani
N.Massoudi
F.Mizani
J.Sedaghatfar
M.Ziai
M.Nafici
S.Rahimi
Y.A.Sarami,Editor
K.Davami
M.Aghai
A.Abbasi
And...
http://www.rendaan.blogspot.com/

EVENING AT THE BUTTERFLY GARDEN OF TORONTO

I want you simple
As simple as when I say these words
And I don't know if I open wings to your silence
Or to have the orchard on my shoulder
And taking it along
To where I do not know
And simple like a letter I write on fridays
Or the old notebook
That I leave a souvenir pen between pages
To remind me,when I open it
To say
I want you simple.

It rains scales like the wedding night
While writing on fogs of the lake
That I am winging with,
Simple like a butterfly
And my writing
From left to right
Or right to left
And legible
Or illegible and sometimes mixed and crooked
Or broken and sols.
I said sols ,like a semester, I was thinking of our school tests when time was running out
and bells ringing and while Torab closed the doors,sharifi still waiting with a twig,and imagine the warm weather of summer and overwhelming readings and no sleep then we stand at the doors half open, in hesitations with our snickers on and I don't know if I was a complicated image of my poems or fluttering in flames to simply say I love you.
See More : www.rendaan.blogspot.com/march 2010/faramarz soleimani
Asr Dar Bagh-e Parvaneh haye Toronto

TALK OF OLD STUFF

I don't know if I'm looking for half empty cup

Or its full half

That you say you broke it

I want my tooth brush my old tooth brush

You hide it behind the curtain
(Why you're hidden behind the curtain?)
Or you threw it away,you don't know.
I want to wear my underwear.I find shorts but not shirts
Books  our books  books are always lost somewhere
In our house or in friend's house
Who comes to visit us
But likes our library better.
By the way ,where are your candle holders
Why tapes and CDs don't sing?
Our vases are behind which window?
Where are our pictures?
Where is that mirror globe
Showing the world in black and white?
Chair and desk that you were sitting behind it
To read my letters and poems and write yours
The mattress on the floor
And these pines and lamps
And marble stone wall with two butterflies
Playing on.
It seems that we said it all
The night ,before lights goes off.
'97

ODE TO GLENDA

I know seasons through your traces
When every morning
Going to pick up the paper
In driveway
Or under my car
And sometimes found them playing
On branches of rose
In avant-garden.
For 13 years I followed
Your shady moves
In that grayish mini van
Turning the lights on
To bandle and handle your papers.
Now that you are leaving,
Reading Washington Post
Or 3C City Times
Is not that much fun anymore.
You disappear in Route 66
I do not find my way
In seasons
Or stone.

*for Glenda,the paper lady