solely engrossed, slow to emotions
prone to be a soul that is broken
lowly focus, frozen devotion
vocal notions erode when unspoken

(doing fine, i lie with a smile
while i fight my own quiet trial
i clear my head, i'm alright for a while
but
a mind that is clear is a mind in denial)

goal, avoidance of a throat opened
my vocal notions will go unspoken
choking on the voices stolen
prone to be a soul that is broken

Every hunter
Eventually become prey

Don't leave today's task
For tomorrow

کار امروزو به فردا ننداز

There are lots
Of dark clouds
In the sky
Snow and ice thawing
At all levels
And a flock
Of crows

Our thunderbolt
Is the oppression
Of the  hailstone

So far the story goes
Miss Place keeps everyone on their toes.

For her finding things is not an easy thing
Most of her possessions invariably go missing
Nowhere to be found are objects of her use
And the ones she blames find some excuse
That she is unmindful and blatantly unfair
Her missing comb is there only in her hair
To her desperate hunt for an important file
She's told she's sitting on it all the while
When she lost an earring and was sulking morose
It so happened they said she wore it on her nose
She wonders why her family should at all blame her
If her car keys are found in the dickey of her car
and why on earth should the blame be all hers
when her money is in a book and not in her purse.

Miss Place thinks she knows the reason for such mess
others' gross negligence in putting things in place.

we sweat the small stuff and get upset
ready to deflect what we don't expect
storms spread and we get so wet
bad weather that we'd rather forget

we preset our heads to reject
whatever we don't see as correct
we've all bled and shed tears of regret
it's our necks that we try to protect

when letting two hearts connect
reverence has the better effect
it's the common threads that we neglect
instead of accepting we choose to except

I am a son
You are a daughter
We’re not related
But, it doesn’t matter

I am a father
You are a mother
We each have a child
Just, not with each other

I love and cherish mine
As I’m sure you do yours
And yet somehow
This hatred of others occurs

Love does not discriminate
We know that it endures
If, I can love a child of mine
I can also, love a child of yours
BOEMS BY JA 581