January 1

Blue-brown beads

of a broken charm

thrown to a white kitten

crying for attention

scattered on the ground

foreshadowing the deception

of kisses and the fireworks

on Boston’s skyline.

“Fall, and I will catch”

wrote the wind on a water pad

to be vanished even before

Fulfilling his whimsy vow.

A brand new year

not to get wiser, but filthier

fighting against gravity

only to write: “I am happy”

on a foggy mirror.

Oh nightingale, behold

the Word centuries old:

“Certainly man is in loss”

Bidding to pick a rose

from wretched desert-thorns.

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The Emperor

Have you heard of the

fool Poet, who betrayed

His own songs of the Friend,

Merely for the sake of a

Bejeweled throne,

A stick-sword, and a paper-crown

That installed in him a childish desire

to reign over his own Empire?

Had he not exchanged

Generosity of the Poor

with a fertile piece of Soil;

He would be still

blissfully insecure

In the comfort of free fall

of his authentic Soul

true to his own nomadic core

like an enchanting lore.

Was it him who left Eden;

Or did Eden abandon him?

For what one seeks

mirrors who he is

and his proper dwellings.

Like Nightingale and Rose

Or the phony power of Dr. Faustus

Every choice, then, is a loss,

But not every loss is a choice.

The fool poet became an emperor,

As the story goes;

Left the beggars, valleys and the River

High hills, vast woods, and desert dunes.

Inside the walls of his rocky castle

Sitting on a bejeweled stone-throne.

a stick-sword and a paper-crown,

Marching with the beats of war

Instead of the songs of Gibran.

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The Council of Ears

Resisting with all her might,

The thin sepia leaf,

cried out loud

to be left behind

All blank, unwritten;

Though the Word

Had already betrayed

the Unspoken.

“You be silent for once,

don’t walk over me, Oh Pen!

so that I can remain

wishfully unfulfilled
in anticipation

of the Cherry Ink

that is not yet spilled.”

Alas, the voice of Pain

Was louder than the blank page.

Pen had to take shelter

In her sole companion God spared.

“Oh dear paper

Only you can hear me;

Since I am banished

From the council of ears

of Humanity.”

Hence started the Pen

To stroll on her,

confiding slowly

a pale bittersweet agony.

‘tis the throbbing heart of Adam

whose Friend tricked him

and yet he did not hesitate

to claim the shame on a whim.

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It is hard to fake Being, my brave girl,

When hanging from the ceiling.  

As you still smile bitter,

attempting to implement

a last Hope

to his crippled Soul,

The bruised neck and the tight Rope

Gives you away, my friend.

You were indeed a Joy,

till betrayed by death,

Time to let go, my dear, let go.

You do not fall, I am afraid!

‘Tis not an April shower adorning the earth!

But an aloof autumn thunderstorm,

the last tears of the deciduous comrade.

Yet, my little Evergreen,

You are doomed to remain.


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The Order of Nature

 A charming Machiavelli

Winked at me

As I smiled, he butchered

my Deity.

the Shrine ruined.

Must be an accident

of such heavy artillery!


A blindfolded Knight

from the noble Chivalry

Was just performing

his swordsmanship

When he maimed my Baby,



An almighty Pharaoh


From the Nile valley

To Enslave the Bereaved

only to abandon her


Tying up on a rock naked

To a predator’s mercy.


“Oh”, said Your Honor!

“A callous Vulture

Cannot be blamed

For being forager”

“Obey, ye woman, Obey!

To the Order of Nature.”


Feyza/ Feb 2014/ Boston

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Why tarred the Sun,

And stole the stars

you endowed once?

Oh Mana,

What have I done?

Why have you gone?

And let the Devil

Reflect me in His mirror?


A snow Scarecrow

Intimidating none.

A wingless ice-angel

Can neither fly, nor run.

Trapped in torment

In a deserted desert

of scorching sand,

Hallucinating through

the shifting dunes of flame.


Alas, I loved thee

gave up my soul

you had given me.

No more Award nor Trial

Oh Mana; Let me expire

Thy Mercy demands you so.  


Feyza, Feb 2014, Boston

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How many times, I forgot,

Stared at a blank page,

Scared by the White.  


Maybe a year and a half

Failed to spill the black blood

Clotted on my throat


Must be a while, I forgot,

Since I was frozen

Struck, still, stuck. 


Where was home, I forgot

Lost and found

Karbala, my new abode




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