March quiet cold
Afternoon of scarlet orbs
Trees within trees ,
Red and gold leaves ,
Songbirds appear to welcome me ,
Continual chatter from 'the Creators canopy'
White Pines scrub together
Two lifelong sparrows of a feather*..

Long hours at work
I need a pick me up
off to have a drink!
at famous pulse club
everyone comfortable
living loud and proud!
until he got up
and fired His first shot!
screams and cries!
run for your lives!
duck and hide!
A mad man[hired?]
the night derailed
his mind deranged
so many innocent lives lost..
for no good cause....
Rest in Peace-
dear sweet souls
May God keep you in Heaven-
and send angels to your loved ones-
to console their mourns
to comfort their loss...



12:14am Wednesday, 15th, June, 2016.

All flowers would cease to bloom! Nightingales would sound as crows !
My lips would only resemble graveyards bearing nothing but dullness,
The skin on my flesh would be pale- as the blood of love would be drained from mine heart.
The sun shan't rise and -
the only showers would be the rains from mine eyes
If he were to to be sad

6:55pm Friday 15th July. 2016

I have always been quite fond of the rose
That flower sweet by any other name
That one sweet to both the eyes and the nose
That can grow to be so wild or tame
Maybe I am a bit biased in this
For my middle name is shared with the bloom
If it went, in romance it would be missed
It adds beauty to gardens and all rooms
And like my namesake, I have pastel lips
Thorns to fight with, and nice little round hips

I've been waiting years now
But it won't be too long
Before I can turn to those grade school ******
And tell them they were wrong

Boys chased me and jailed me 'neath the slide
And chipped one of my teeth
Now I can run down halls in heels
And hike twenty miles through trees

Kids ran from me like a monster for a whole year
They told me I was spoiled cheese
Later I learned that I was not so rancid
And that it's okay to be a bit of a beast

Classmates would tell me I was ugly
By rewriting lyrics of Bruno Mars
I'm not a model, but I can pull off
As many styles as the stars

I once had two boys kick me off monkey bars
They told me I was on their hit list
It was terrifying to me then
Now it's hilarious how wildly they missed

I remember that boy who taunted me
And how I flipped over his desk
Since then, I've learned of subtlety
And how not to leave a mess

I knew a girl in first grade, she sat across from me
And made sure I knew I was weird
I know I'm an oddball for a fact now
Why change the way I'm geared?

I'm still not over all of those words
From people who said "kids are mean"
"Sticks and stones will break my bones"
Now I overthink what my words mean

In the back of my mind, when I'm talking
To an acquaintance or friend
A part of me keeps popping up, asking
"Why do they like me, again?"

But at the end of all those days
It's been five years since I've been gone
Looking at the girl I am now, I'd say
I've been pretty good at moving on

I don't know how much I love you
My fall has no rain
Never had
19 years old girls,they don't understand
Maybe I was jealous of God
when I saw the sun,yellow
I had forgotten my stories
Grandpa 's stick dose not turned to butterfly
My death is not beautiful
It would not be beautiful
A cloudy house maybe
With singing clouds
I see your shining eyes
We had forgotten the songs
I give you my earrings
I will miss Nastaran
She's not remembering her mom's embrace
Her dress,white
-I just see this -
Maybe I was jealous of God
That she was so beautiful
I don't understand my feelings about you
Your words has put Jasmine to sleep
Their eyes turned black
-no Jasmine-


You may not believe
You are the first person reading my poems in a language I don't know.
Sometimes being thankful loses its meaning
I never knew how to rime...
I've always seen you as the poet I love with no permission .
I don't know how much I love you
Don't look at the sky...
Please don't look at the sky


من نمی دانم چه قدر شما را دوست دارم
پاییز من باران ندارد
...هیچوقت هم نداشت
دختران نوزده ساله نمی فهمند
شاید حسادت من به خدا بود
وقتی خورشید را زرد می دیدم
قصه هایم یادم نبود
عصای پدربزرگ پروانه نمی سازد
مرگ من زیبا نیست
زیبا نخواهد ماند
شاید خانه ای ابری باشد
ابرهایش آواز خواندند
من درخشش چشمان شما را می بینم
ترانه ها یادمان نبود
و من گوشواره هایم را
به شما می سپارم
دلم برای نسترن تنگ می شود
آغوش مادرش یادش نمی ماند
پیراهنش سفید است
- فقط همین را می بینم -
شاید از حسادت من به خدا بود
که او آنقدر زیباست
احساسم را به شما نمی فهمم
کلام شما
یاسمن ها را خوابانده است
چشمانشان سیاه شد
- یاسمن نبود -


شاید باور نکنید
شما اولین کسی هستید که شعرهای من را می خوانید
به زبانی که نمی فهمم
گاهی اوقات تشکر معنایش را از دست می دهد
...من هیچوقت بلد نبوده ام شعر بگویم
همیشه شاعری را که خیلی دوستش داشتم
بی هیچ اجازه ای در شما می دیدم
من نمی دانم چه قدر شما را دوست دارم
به آسمان نگاه نکن
...خواهش می کنم به آسمان نگاه نکن

Bring me your
orphan memories
and I will stitch them
into a chapter of time

Stepping fearlessly into
empty air
walking the tightrope
of certain death

Drawing memory
into the web of this moment
Bleeding it out into meaning

While sleeping
While dreaming

These poor words
strain to tell a tale
a shout out to eternity
and it is a clarion call
from the dawning
to the setting of the sun
announcing a state of grace
that surely will ripple
through time.

The night calls sweetly to us
Bids us sleep well
and find courage in the day.