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Literature Paradise

Hi,My name is Farshid Rezaee.The present weblog features my poems. I would appreciate your comments. Sen your comments to farshid_rezaee_literature@yahoo.com Thanks for visiting.

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Location: Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia

I am a university instructor, interpreter and poet.

Tuesday, September 12, 2006

Poem.19 Towers of Pride (In memory of 9/11)


Towers of Pride

Two towers stood

Proud and resolute

Symbols of power

Symbols of hope

Men drunk with hate

Men despising freedom

Men devoid of hearts

Minds void of reason

Thought it brave to kill thousands

Crush towers and hurt mothers

They did not know

Hope is not in buildings

It is in a child’s eye

Pride is not in towers

It is in a marine’s mother’s heart

Power is not in terror

It is in a soldier’s sacrifice

Love is not in blocks

It is in floating every vein

Of freedom-loving men

As long as America stands people will look

At the resurrection of New York City

And they will say:

“Here Buildings fell

Here a Nation rose”

Thursday, September 07, 2006

Poem.18 Last Duel



Last Duel

Standing in the desert

Golden volcano‘s fiery lavas

Drops of sweat

Gasping, shaking, I wait

There he stands

Firm and fierce

With eyes glaring

His shadow devours mine

Moments later only one

Will stand

Alone

On this lonely land

Desperate moment of doom

Crawling near

To chain the life

To a black hole

Nothing to do

But to wait and see

Who pulls the trigger first?


Farshid Rezaee

Saturday, September 02, 2006

Poem.17 Took a Walk ....

Took a walk

On the streets

Clouds are bleeding

Drops of cruel water

Mingle with dust

Mud drapes the shoes

Grey umbrellas are held up

Shields against the dewy arrows

Paupers writhe in pain

Hunger’s stain on every face

Evening shrouds the sky

Where am I going?

On this wet path of solitude

Bloodthirsty moments are rushing

To feed on the silver rays of an orphan’s life

Cloaked figures’ eyes pinned to the pavement

Pass unnoticed and not noticing

The hellish coldness,

Which is here in the swampy grounds

Cuddling the hopeless sighs of a mother.



Friday, September 01, 2006

Poem.16 Two Pens

Two Pens

A piece of blank paper

Two pens

A white

A black

Drawing lines

Straight and crooked

Circles and triangles.

Pens seem to fight

Now and then writing a letter

A comma an exclamation

More often a question

But no periods…

The pens are losing blood

The lines thinner and thinner

Pens seem to pause

There a full stop.

Ending the last chapter

Of the book of life.

Farshid Rezaee



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