Author: poetryfest

Those silver magical drops, we call rain
Poured mercilessly
As they descended from heaven, shrouded in pain
Drenching my soul with sorrow
Dark clouds looming large
Teeth gnashing and eyes narrow
With poodles of sadness all around
Drowning me in the stream of misery
Hanging by the string of hope searching for firm ground
Blood flowed as the rains poured from above
Splattering them in a remorseless rhythm
Staining my concise for ever
Each gushing and gurgling trying to out flow the other
The heart bleeding till the bones
While the rains after a time had stopped to bother
It lays bare, soiled in mud and blood by the drain
Tears not enough to wipe it clean
So, it awaits those silver magical drops, we call rain.

She was everything she wasn’t,
She became everything she was.
The poison well hidden,
The mirror doesn’t lie,
The apple once bitten,
Tis time for the dream to die.
All that glitters is not gold,
All life’s dreams,
A marriage cannot hold,
Promises turn cold.
The sacrifice must be made,
To God the father,
The debt of hate,
Must be paid,
Before it’s too late,
By the psychic blood of an innocent man,
With the touch of love in his hand.

Childhood scars,
The poison they create,
Adult anger seething,
For love to disintegrate,
Promises of love that binds,
Poison seeps from the subconscious mind.
The damage is done,
There will be no daughter, no son.
The decay of love begins to smell,
As Snow White takes him to Hell.
With unrelenting rage, she turns,
He watches helplessly as her spirit burns,
In eternal hate,
For a man so vicious, so cruel,
From which there is no escape,
It’s now too late.

She runs from him,
Into the darkness, away from the light.
In terror she flees,
Daddy, daddy, please help me,
She begs feebly.
Her hate transcends space and time,
She could never be mine.
The transformation is complete,
Her soul is lost, the descent too steep,
There can be no escape, from her fate,
She gazes into the mirror of life,
And sees only his shadow of her hate.

Translated to English by Amir Marashi

I imagined when I grew up

All the wars in the world would have come to an end

I imagined when I grew up

Children would no longer become orphans

Women would no longer become widows

Houses would no longer be destroyed

I imagined in adulthood

I would face a world without any blemish or fault

When you were not here

I saw a picture of frightened children

And the feverish crying of a child

Made a lasting mark

On the face of love

And the image of a desire to play a childish game

Cried on the face of a kite high up

Despite all that

Never say love has become estranged

I too will never say

Although it is sometimes destroyed

Even before it is built

Sometimes it is lost

Even before it is found

But

To whatever extent is necessary I shall secretly

Water this seedling which has grown from blood

With affection

Till its flowers become white

No one has yet

Banned people from having loving wishes

No one has yet

Learnt to raid my dreams and your dreams

It is enough that sometimes

You should slowly look behind you

It is enough that sometimes

You should see the unseen look

Behind you

Now that we have forgotten our childhood

The novelty of a child’s speech

Makes us wonder

Now that we deny our natural intelligence

We find criticism in the logic of every song

Now for the purification of our souls we give to charity

And the tradition of playing ball without cheating

Is left to nostalgia

I must call you

And throw a ball at you

The conversations about love will never end

The world

Continues in this way

For my today I shall not consider

Every little event

As insignificant

I shall take seriously every opportunity

To create a smile

For my today

Beware the mirror, the seeming mundanity of the everyday reflection.

Behold within its frame your likeness cast in parallel light and shadow.

Identical to you and yet hollow within. A near perfect replica, the graven image.

Acts as you act, blinks when you blink, turns away to leave through its door into a realm beyond your perception.

Setting off into the unknown
A sudden hint of charm
Awakes in me
A girlish enthusiasm.

I glance over my shoulder
A powerful wind crosses my face
As if an assertive rejoinder
To that remote
Long gone perception
Of the inconceivable that pervaded me
When I was a dormant witness to myself.

Brought by Time
Indomitable and indifferent to chance
Shrewd as it is
It has come to feed my urge
To seal a deal
So I could be me again
When nothing is left to conceal.

The clock strikes and all the ticking time pieces around my house diligently reset. The clocks go back…the clocks go back….
TICK. TOCK. TICK. TOCK.
A flickering heart amongst the carnage and my eyes started to beat, once, twice and thrice. The electric circuits lodged and embedded deep within my skull. My breaths spattered, scattered and fearful. Yet, none were my last. Blood smothered my lungs, but my heart refused to beat out its last wish.
Some sat in darkness and the deepest gloom, prisoners suffering in chains.
If only I had the courage to speak to you articulately and without fear, but I become tongue-tied in your presence as my soul reaches out for your eyes to see. Yet, your eyes…don’t look up…you only see the reflection of my soul in my mirror of contempt. You set into motion a spiralling, tumbling turn of events that crushed the very beating heart of my mind with one simple, swift kiss. However, I’m not giving up, and I am certainly not giving in, so what would I say to you if I had the power? If I was the dealer and I held all the cards?
I would kiss you again and again and again. Damn me to the devil’s pit of delusional despair. Your influence has reached the four corners of the fiery, passionate sun and even if I tried to banish you to the high heavens – your taunting would rain down on me like glittering stars.
I lie in the den of the undead in the darkness before the dawn, where all the unrequited loved ones lay their weary hearts down to heal. It is a place where the devil rests his feet on a poor soul’s consciousness, like a footrest for his roguish delusions. I have been in this den for years and still: you simmer in my mind, as the stars shine down on me and wink at me so mischievously. I see the glint in your eye as you tease me from the boundless moonlit sky, then I remember I offend you with my uncouth behaviour and all the stars go out – leaving me alone in the inky, blackened sky.
In this twilight, I am banished to the shadows of your heart. For a sinner like me, only my tears last the test of time. I have seen lovers come and go, like falling stars, but here in this den of the unrequited is where I come to rest my head at night. For I can love no one else quite like you, and you may say what you like about it.
The clocks strike and go back.
TICK. TOCK. TICK….
07:14
My eyes flutter open and I awake: a Frankenstein Bride.

Suspended belief, like unsettled dust in dark corners of mind, tempt me to breathe. The pain subsides as I dare to hope the worst has passed.

I remember my bloody knees and innocent heart between my teeth as I whispered prayers with hands bound and eyes shut tight.

Decades have passed and still the ink stains my skin with tell-tale sigils seared, while I hope someone, somewhere, might know what they mean.

As I count my scars and most trusted allies, placing tokens of loyalty in deep pockets, I wonder who will sing the dirges of Winter this year.

Here I grip my weapon, a beloved heirloom passed down the lineages of genocide and the shadows of power, blessed by the Bishop Prince.

Dare I trust the turning tide? If the darkness turns light, might I forget how to fight?

Hunger grips my bones while the winds whip my soul. I have held my mind steady like a ghost ship under Huracan.

I fear I have survived, but why?

You have broken the curse.

Have I?

I peer down the crossroads under Priestess’ Moonlight, the tracks of my shadow, donkey hooves and cum stains on the sacred red dirt.

Prophet’s poetry manifests like the warmth of my breath.

Dear God,

What is the meaning of this?

I continue along my path with this song in my heart, like a needle in the night, I remember.

I remember.

Lax’d atmosphere, breezy, sun beaming near
Trees Riesling, birds singing, children play ball outside
Looking around one would’ve never known
So many lives cried and died, some even fried on these Mississippi lines
Sounds of joyful laughs,
Deep rooted
Remembering the screams… Wailing my people shed within these
Mississippi state lines
Oh my history will never be left behind
It’s retain ed in my mind
How can one forget what continues to go on today
Ya’ll better peep game, this shit is still insane
We still being hang’d and who gets the capital gain?!
What a shame
Something to think about before you really start to believe that ya’ azz is really free
Now rest your head, make a difference with ’cha ya’ own
Give live learn
Lax’d atmosphere, breezy, sun beaming near
Trees Riesling , birds singing, children play ball outside
Looking around one would’ve never known
So many lives cried, died some fried on these Mississippi state lines
And you think you free

I want to find my home

I have a feeling of greed

I quest for

A possibility of belonging

One I have for long sought after,

Yet happiness

is ephemeral

Like a shooting star

Crossing the valley

Like a box of supplies

In the middle of scarcity

Freedom,

It seems so far away

to belong

stay

and grasp the souls

of those I meet

always a travel

always a discovery

Words of pain

Glass that cut

Inside the window

A numbed scream

Of a broken household

And the internal turmoil

Of being shattered

Touched by the fire,

by the shadows.

The open heart

to catch a tear,

a smile, a feeling,

Everything and anything

to feel alive.

—

A brotherhood of winter birds
Acclimate above the snow
At the feeder we can barely
Keep full

Gentle Mother’s white blanket
Has touched us all with a new
Silence. Comfort inside
Terror and chills without
The wild survive somehow

A new gun shot across the street
At Shute Park. Just one shot
this time.
I run to the window
See nothing except snow.
Two men leaving each other.
One still
One running
No bodies. No blood to show.

A return to innocence
Appearances
For now

Inside out
I’m irritable after days
Being snowbound
Four inches more on the way
Tonight.

The silence is thick.
Light is blinding from the Sun.

Two nights ago at dusk and
Light fluffy snow falling
Giggles and laughter from
Kids enjoying their first snow
In the deep dark.
Videos, selfies,
Multiple gunshots a block away
The laughter stops.
Resumes with a peculiar humor
At the absurdity of life and death
On a hair trigger, and
then they are
Gone.

More snow on the way
The thick blue comforter
Spares us all night.
Space heater, door closed
To steward the heat.
The rest of the house
left to the struggling HVAC
Already in auxiliary mode.

We have power, heat.
Food, friends in our bubble.
Fireplace with fire and
Breakfast casserole to share.

We disregard the bullet holes
Only to find joy in closeness.
Proximity to the frailty.
Life is precious. Absurd.
Glorious and fleeting.
Depending where you are.
Who you are.

For now the snow gives the
Semblance of equal grace.
It melts with rain next week.

A brotherhood of birds at the
Feeder. We keep our
Bargain with wildness.