There was a poet on HP
Who had alot of ♡
He tried to stay
     out of the fights
He kept himself apart
He had a love of poetry
He lived for his art.

Talented, he made "the grade"
As "minded" poets do
But he didn't try
     to "people please"
And so mean writes
     eschewed.
When he encountered
     "lesser lights" he didn't
     make them blue
But put ♡s on them as well
For their hearts were true.

Time went by... how it did fly!
As if given wings!
He found he had "The Daily"
(When there was
     such a thing)
He tried to READ all poets
     but could not, everything...
So he decided just to read
The small group
     within his ring.

He would NOT be purchased.
He would NOT be sold.
He was TRUE to his beliefs
Of his Faith quite bold.

Not only did he ♡
He gave "thumbs up" as well!
He reposted and was good
In fact, the man was swell!

He had a grateful following
But, as fate is wont
He couldn't keep up
     with the load...
Found his health was shot
But he tried to be a light
He tried to give folks thought.

His readership got smaller
It seemed like every day.
He still tried to be genuine
And true in every way
But nobody wanted
     him no more
He began to fade away...
Where the
     rubber hits the road
He began to PRAY.

If you don't know
     who this is,
Replace the "he" with "she"
She believes
And truly grieves

That poet would be ME.


♡ Catherine

Watercolors
Gouache
Colored pencils
I miss my notebook
The one I made
Holding my earrings
He has cried with me, maybe
Looking at the sky
Can't see my feet
Passing through the trees
Remembering no one's eyes
The cars are big
Can't catch my voice
Someone asking me :
''Are you beautiful ?''
And I say :
I'm depressed
I had beautiful skirts
Colored pencils be beautiful
I like to draw myself
The ovaries of the boats are empty
I gather the sands at the beach
The sky will remain blue with the sea
I don't know why I still don't like to makeup
I think...
**** pictures increase the depression
And it's only I who must have seen
the copulation of two crows
at the university
I can hear Farinoosh and I laughing
I will not forget Shekoufe
And Pouria that curly hair boy
I used to play with when I was four
Gave me a swallow...
And I like to draw myself
In the arms of my mom 'a scarves
My scarf was green with red dapples
I used to ride big dogs at fun fair
Eating candies
Hadn't my sister at that time
I was three...
As I got to six my sister came
with the Lion King
I remember that morning with my granny,
hanging from the terraces
I thought, the snow was snowing in the summer
Just like the cartoons...
I 'be always had strange feeling for the sun
I can't describe its warmth on my skin...!
I have dark circles around my eyes
I've lost my moon-star earrings
I can't swim in the sea
I should wear scarf
And I think I will feel death sooner
Where I can't take my mom and my sister
As I know very well that my
husband's black shoes would be
much bigger than me
For the sky to rain there must be a cloud...

آبرنگ
گواش
مدادرنگی
دلم برای دفترم تنگ شده است
من آن را درست کرده بودم
گوشواره هایم را داشت
شاید او هم با من گریه کرده باشد
به آسمان نگاه می کنم
پاهایم را نمی بینم
از روی درخت ها رد می شوم
چشم های هیچکس را به خاطر نمی آورم
ماشین ها بزرگ اند
به صدای من نمی رسند
کسی از من می پرسد
تو زیبایی!؟
و من می گویم
من افسرده ام
دامن های زیبا داشتم
مداد رنگی ها زیبا باشند
و من دوست دارم
خودم را بکشم
تخمدان قایق ها
خالیست
شن ها را در ساحل می چینم
آسمان با دریا آبی خواهد بود
نمی دانم چرا هنوز میل به
آرایش کردن ندارم
...فکر می کنم
تصویرهای سکس افسردگی را بیش تر می کند
که فقط من باید
جفت گیری دو کلاغ را
در دانشگاه دیده باشم
صدای خنده های فرینوش با من می آیند
شکوفه را از خاطر نمی برم
پوریا
پسری مو فرفری
در چهارسالگی با هم بازی می کنیم
...به من پرستو داد
و من دوست دارم خودم را بکشم
در آغوش روسری های مادرم باشم
روسری من سبز بود
با خال های قرمز
در شهربازی
سگ های بزرگ سوارم
اسمارتیز می خورم
هنوز خواهرم را نداشتم
...سه سالم بود
وقتی شش سالم شد
خواهرم با شیرشاه آمد
صبحی را با مادربزرگم یادم هست
در بالکن آویزان بودم
من فکر کردم
برف در تابستان باریده است
شبیه کارتون ها بود
همیشه احساسم به خورشید غریب است
نمی توانم توصیف کنم
!!...گرمایش در پوست تنم
زیر چشم هایم سیاه است
گوشواره های ماه و ستاره ام را گم کرده ام
نمی توانم در دریا شنا کنم
باید روسری داشته باشم
و من فکر می کنم
مرگ را زود تر احساس خواهم کرد
جایی که دیگر نمی توانم
مادرم و خواهرم را با خود ببرم
همانطور که خوب می دانم
کفش های سیاه همسرم
از من بزرگ تر خواهند بود
...باید آسمان باشد تا ابر ببارد

Beauty arrested my eyes,
made my heart beat faster,
realizing beauty as the truth
ultimate, I wooed it every minute.

I sought beauty avidly
all through every experience,
came to understand,
it took forms one can
never imagine.
Ignorance makes one fall
in to the bottom of the pit
of doubt,though one wants
to be a brave heart

Love I sought all round,
with love in abundance
kept ready to give in return!
But love has quicksilver ways
transforms and becomes
different things,in
many realms of being
in  many fascinating colors
The only hope for me to grasp it,
is to become love itself.

I sought peace always
in beauty and love,
when beauty touched me
with such deep, pure love,
I never would have imagined,
or when love displayed,
beauty beyond the borders
of body, soul and spirit,
I was touched by enlightenment.

I did bid goodbye to transience,
and became one with the
sky of limitlessness,
eternity without non duality,
where beauty and love
harmoniously transform in to truth
the one and only essence
effulgent, unchanging, eternal.

When Light craved your soul to see in kissing colors
as the evening envisioned to die in the dawn of depth,
when Soul lustered for learning, as blood bespoke to her bones
for building the star of flesh, when Time needed the resentment
of its ubiquity to be understood. The moment texture lured touch to
tease with a thousand sensations, when the labor of love sought a language
to express the extremes of its lips, as romance raged through the ravishing of
hardened hearts, when sorrow’s seduction made heroes of loving men and women.

When Justice is seduced to her innocent words,
as bravery battled the basic questions of conquest,
war demands a metaphor in the terror of its destruction,
as Faith finds resolutions to her problems in seconds,
Death wallows for relief and Life’s supercilious meaning upon its skyline.
When God wanted imagination to invent immaculate existence…
Poetry began, born as an eternal being,
because, the only vow of a Poet, is Passion!

tree spirits beckoned
through pools of dawn's blushing glow
trees silvered seeping with soft musk and hazel
their lilting throngs of whispering tilleul arms
splitting misted air into swirls of hushed enchantment
pressed into the grass with strokes of emerald shade
etched into that twisting turret
lines
a hundred
each a miniature scroll of letters and words
blazing through sap and bark and bramble
each a sample of language
the ancient and vast
ink of sun's blood, gilt and dragon's fire

Sing my restless heart
in a poem of wild roses
that bloom in the morning sky.
One verse for love
One verse for grief
One verse for lament

Paint the ageless beauty
of my face on your canvas of
ice and snow.
One color for my hair
One color for my lips
One color for my eyes

Play my melancholy soul
into a symphony on a vintage piano.
One note for yearning
One note for hope
One note for freedom

*... Life imitates Art ...

Where's a soft, safe place to land
In a desperate hour
When you find you cannot stand
And you're a mighty tower?

Where's a shoulder you can cry on
When you're the one who's tough?
Where's the place where
you can go
When you have had enough?

Where is God at times
When you are like an owl?
When you're in the 18th round
And want to toss the towel?

Sometimes I just feel this way!
Sometimes it's just hard!
It seems folks want to lean on me
When I'm a house of cards!

I know that God is closest
When He seems far away
I know that in my intellect
But it doesn't feel that way!

So I'll put on praises
To music I bequeath
Sing to my Lord and Savior
Though through gritted teeth!

I will read the Psalms
About David's many trials
HE didn't always dance a jig.
HE didn't always smile!

I'm not going to sell you stuff
You don't want to buy
I'm not gonna tell a tale
I'm not going to die, but
Sometimes *I NEED A SHOULDER

Upon which to lie!

They tell me I should smile more,
But I’m just lost in thought.
I like picking at my scabs and sores,
Each one an emblem of the battles I’ve fought.

Some people find solace in Summer
With its mirage that all is right.
But I thrive in the chilled Winter,
Relying on my inner warmth and light.

Go ahead…

Call me a dark cloud raining on your parade.
Call me a moping miser wallowing in pain.
Call me a bloated tick thirsty for attention.
Call me a filthy sinner unworthy of redemption.

Flimsy words deflected by my impervious mettle.
Don’t you know steel hardens in the furnace?
Leave me be, let the storm rage then settle.
Only then will I break the water’s surface.

Afterwards, I’ll mount a drifting log and ride along
Down sorrow’s stream until I reach the estuary.
Where purity meets the brine from tears’ song
And entrust my fate to the ocean currents to carry.

Humanity always seeking absolute bliss,
Condemning suffering to fathomless pits.
But under the covers of sleepless nights
Amid the sobs, wails, and blistering spite…

Out emerges a self-revelation,
A subtle truth whispered in the dark.
Cathartic release through meditation
Only bestowed by sorrow’s mark.

They tell me I should smile more,
But I’m just lost in thought.