I am a pen
Safe in a warm hand
I can write poetry short stories
Even novels
And I am always put away safely
Ready for the next time.

Keith  Wilson.  Windermere.  UK.  2017.

At last,
Realization came to him
A sudden blast
Enlighten what's dim

Now, he knows what to do
Must forgive and forget
Truth must not skew
Else a ton of regret

What happened
He never thinks of such wisdom before
Because the pure white he used to blacken
He enjoyed the face of others down on the floor

Now he feels lighter
Ready to seeds good deeds
A color of cotton or even whiter
Will response help to those in needs

No more heavy metal song
Just soft and sentimental one
It's time to correct what's wrong
To hear the words "Well done"

He saw a man fall down
The song he sang is fresh
Suddenly he realized the sound
That he was no more in the flesh...

March 16, 2017
Mysterious Aries

Gasp...
It was a sucker punch.
One that leaves you winded and frozen.
And you struggle to get out of this malfunction...
Trying to find that foothold that would take you to the next breath.

Quickening of the heartbeat...
Almost instantaneous.
Thumps so loud and hard you could hear them in your ears.

Disbelief...
You never saw it coming.
You weren't ready.
You replay it again and again.
Like a bad movie stuck on repeat.

Denial...
It never happened.
Yeah...
Nothing happened.

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

One fleeting chance to catch you between trapezes
Yet my head was bowed, my thoughts immersed
In another dream of another life that i longed to live
A moments lapse careers you to that downward spiral
Through all those safety nets, all those webs we wove
Once so secure borne from our labour, love and toil
Exposed now like a promise of night through a civil dawn
As you fall through each of my declarations of trust
You blow out the candles and knock out the lights
Of celebrations and occasions now shattered like glass

Blackness descending through this never blinking eye
As those moments and time perpetually relive yet resist
The blood still refusing to flow freely through my veins
As i sit and wait for this evening coffee to run cold
That i may embrace the sanctuary of night once more
For I was one that could never dream in the dark
No more than one who could ever make amends
Between those two trapezes that signaled our end