Choir Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Choir

"You look at the hair, I
Focus to watch the curls.
You look at eyebrows,
I receive their signals."

This is part of poem
From the older days…

But these days the poems
Remind me of cheap talks,
I picture horse, camel
Blinded with cloths,
In a mill, going round.

Nostalgic were those days
With Khayyam and Hafez.

I want to bind my hands
Together with my legs,
Put a seal on my mouth,
Either cut or burn tongue
And force them to shut up.

Want to write and speak
Conditional, if only
I bring the sky
Into eyes on the Earth
Or maybe, in reverse!

Sitting, writing nonsense
Is nothing but a waste.

Close eyes and picture
Being in theatre,
Orchestra, and plays,
Musicians, conductors,
The actors, directors
All work hard as if are
Brushes, paint, painters,
We can give each, a life…

Look at the Choir
When singing together
The motions of the mouths
With the eyes, eyebrows
And colours in makeups
Each can be a poem…

Revisit same picture
With the looks and jesters,
Are waiting for orders
Issued by look, baton,
From lone conductor…

Can we not, as poets
Write about characters?

Sadly, I, see, mostly
Store junks, "Poetry? "

Yes, true, we vary
In deserts and in seas
Have a car, dog, or kids.

But let us see details
Like poet with the hair
Counting each of the curls.

Let us see the words that
Are written with wrinkles
In frowns of foreheads…

Poets are nightingales
Adore the flowers,
Lips to us are tulips and roses
Even if are hidden, forbidden,
We can paint their movements
Via the abdomens…

Poets are hunters of treasures,
We lift the lid of urn, discover
The vastness and values of nature,
Via walking, seated, sick in bed,
If healthy, or antique, too long dead.