I've written enough
there's no urgency
to write more-
too many flowers
will choke the meadow
too many words
will confusion draw-

silent I'll be for now
for my next inspiration I'll wait
there will be the right ripening
my life I'll then happily celebrate.

بوی گل یاس
بوی عطر یاس
بوی نوبهار
بوی گل عطر سیب
بوی رز نو
I love poetry
Jasmine made me a world full of venture
Jasmine is a scent of floral babish
Jasmine is a wave of difficulty
Jasmine makes my life beautiful

SPRING  DON'T TAKE NO FOR AN ANSWER

"Ok..!"  shouted Spring
"I know y'are in there..!"

Spring had the house
surrounded.

It had trees stationed
all about my abode

aiming their apple blossom
straight at me.

Already their perfume
had invaded the room.

I had turned into
THE INCREDIBLE SULK

sunk into
a blue funk

there was to be
no escape from.

Even my reflection wouldn't
look at me.

"OK..!' shouted Spring yet again
"...just look out your window....

surely you can see you
don't stand a chance!"

I couldn't help my self
I gave a panicked glance.

Platoons of daffodils
waiting to charge the house

yelling in yellow.

"Ok fella...this is your last chance
I'm going count to then...."

"Alright....alright...it's a fair cop
I'll come quietly!"

I kicked open the door
hands held above my head.

The trees had me
cornered.

The sunlight had me
blinded.

Happiness...sheer ******...happiness
grabbed me by the heart.

"Ok kid...easy now...easy!"
Spring soothed me

"Everything's gonna be ok...
...Ok?"

I sobbed on its shoulder
threw my despair away.

*

I had broken up with my girlfriend and was absolutely desolate. I would go to work and come home and just sit in my room and stare at the white white walls and the little window as it changed from light to dark and back again and...back again. I just cried and cried. Then one day I was walking to work not paying any attention to anything when all of a sudden I was greeted by a bunch of crocus and they were the first things to enter my mind and catch my imagination.

After a year I had finally noticed that something beautiful could possibly happen. And like the ancient mariner I blessed them even though I could not bless myself and I was blessed for loving the crocus just for the beauty of themselves.

The healing had begun and the voice of that wonderful English anchorite Julian of Norwich penetrated my loss and anguish and revealed to me that yes...yes...believe it or not.. . .

‘all shall be well, all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well,’

The poem wrote itself inside my head and by the time the Underground had delivered me to my place of work it had emerged into hastily scribbled form and later that day beside the little window and the white white walls I typed it up and ceased crying bit by bit by bit.

In the forest, deep and ancient,
Where the whispering winds do wander,
Where the rivers, swift and silver,
Sing their song in seeping sorrow,
Stood the oak, of mighty ancients,
Still, its silence, strong 'n steadfast,
Gnarled roots deep in highland soil,
Mighty arms stretched wide to heavens,
Stretching arms of ancient sages,
In the war of wisdom waging,
Witness to the passing ages,
Solace to the aged bearing,
Tidings good to those who carry
Light to cleanse the dark and shadow,
As from east, the dawn approaches,
Dawning scarlet's silver glow,
Sure as leopard 'pon her prey,
Soft of foot upon the meadow,
Soft upon the Morning star,
Ishtar in her morn arrayed,
Shinning 'fore the four-horsed carriage,
Bids adieu to the darkness,
Adieu to deepest night,
With presage of hope and courage
Bows 'fore brightest, king of light.
Brightest dawn in fire resplendence,
Night surrenders to the day.

Shooting arrows goodness-filled
Into evil hearts of man
World becomes a paradise