"taheri" poems
Father, I saw you last night
In a twilight dream you strolled through the streets of Shiraz,
followed by a fluttering butterfly
Passed the mosques and minarets,
turquoise blue and blood red
The cypress trees and poets' beds wept for you -
and their tears dropped like pomegranate seeds on the dry desert sand.
Father, I saw you yesterday
In a dusk-lit dream you walked through the streets of Baltimore,
followed by a fluttering butterfly
Passed the Hopkins dome and Ravens' home,
steamed crab orange and Oriole black
The patients in hospital beds cried to you -
and their tears fell flat on the soft O.C. sand.
Dear friend, Baba,
Aman, Vafa
We see you every day in an azalea's bloom
You live on in each grandchild's heart
You give our lives hope
In the early spring sun and the late autumn moon,
you breathe again
In your Akhtar's sweet smile, in Taraneh's kind style,
your heart beats again.
Father, I felt you last night
In a deep, dark dream you spoke to me
and with an angel's hands, dried my tears for me
Then hugged me with great joy,
and I read you this poem -
To my father
From his boy.
-Arman Taheri (7/10/2010)
Sep 27, 2013
Sep 27, 2013 at 12:29 PM UTC
You are a mystery -
A pitch black room with a pair of floating bright eyes;
A soft breath
on a neck's nape,
A deep sigh
In a dark place,
A muffled heartbeat
In a corner of outer space
You are that silent stirring
Behind a storm cellar door,
With that shivering feeling
That something is down there
That you've felt before -
A whisperer's kiss
From forgotten lips
That are trying to tell me something:
The mystery truly begins
When the lights are turned on.
-Arman Taheri
Jun 29, 2013
Jun 29, 2013 at 12:39 AM UTC