Like a toothpick on a mammoth river,
I have no say in where I’ll go.
I think I know where I’ll end up.

A tiny sliver on a massive torrent-
I will not sink, though I may tangle
With another floating twig  

And find me carried in its direction
Whether that be to the salty ocean
Or washed up on a riverbank.

I’ll fetch up where the current puts me-
There’s no arguing with life
Or the mighty Columbia River.
ljm

P  erhaps it’s time to scribble down a word or two,
E  ven though I have nothing cogent to proclaim.
N  evertheless the urge is one that must be answered to.

O  nce a long, long time ago the words poured forth, but
N  ow the well has seemingly gone dark and dry.

P  ossibly the act of touching pen to empty pages-
A  s an act of penance for strangling the muse of
P  oesy in a knotted, convoluted scarf of dreariness- will
E  nable what was meaningful so long ago to finally
R  ecover and deliver something worthwhile once again.
                                                          ­  ljm

Wastes of space, we the scapegrace, blank expressions, poker face.

You're my ace, ahead in the race, they're second place, a futile chase.

Stakes growing higher like an untamed fire, their inevitable pyre, situations dire.

Those who were bold, i watched their hands fold, those who seemed braver, i watched as they waivered, as they fretted and regretted, i watched their faces fall, like a delicate house of cards, gingerly balanced, standing tall.

But i have nout to fear, for my secret ace is here, hidden up my sleeve, to which i dearly cleave, they all want to believe, as losing's what they fear, but losing's all they'll get, while my secret ace is near.

I drew a little picture
but hid it behind my back
to hide it from the world
covered in gray and black
I brought the picture with me
Everywhere I went
but no one would ever see
the picture now creased and bent
I walked a little farther
and ended up in the world I drew
Where everything is always colorful
and the grass is sometimes blue.

A crack of bright light
led the way for the storm
The smack of a drum
signals the warning
Seconds pass and the world
makes room for nature's destruction
The quick, loud thump of the raindrops
falling and splat
The natural forces running into each other
They collide
The Earth ripped and torn
as it makes way
for the storm

Swirling around
in your head
coating your eyes
from seeing
and saying what needs to be said
It covers your face with a thin shield
blocking your ears from hearing
and using the words you wield
Sealing your faith
Locked up tight
without feeling to list
no words in sight
and nothing to be said
It's just the mist
swirling in your head

The alley still blossoming
Jasmines
Still carrying my childhood
aroma.

عطر کودکی هایم را می دهد
کوچه ای که هنوز گل یاس می دهد