Games Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Games

This poem is a child
Born to age, over night
When arrived a vision
For writing a poem…

I ignored, went to bed
Confident, went, slept:
"I will write it later! "

I must have forgotten
The truth about age
That limits the brain.

Years ago, not yet teen,
For us, boys in Tehran,
Endless was energy.

We acted as bankers
And users, spenders,
Invented new games.

We made cars from wood
With tires of bearings,
Few helped in pushing,
Some rode, all enjoyed it…

Took stick, called "Alak"
Another named "Dolak."

Played game like baseball,
Hit the short with tall one,
Finally, howled: "Zooooo, "
While running until died
In shouter, the breath.

New games came, entered
Like the two-wheels, peddle
That Japan marketed.

But the best and cheapest
Was, "Play with marble…"

Cheap, glass spheres
Seemed to be pregnant
With the dead flowers.

New were the asphalt
And water in the pipes.

They too, could become game
And sort of amusement.

Most of roads and alleys
Were of dirt, gravel…

We dug pots to play
With the marble, "Teeleh! "

The polo in Iran
Is the most ancient game
With, without the horses,
And this was another,
Snapped ball, pushed forward.

Marble game was like curl
In which weight hits others.

The first marble in the hole
Said who was the winner…

Wow, our games were endless
Run, Torna and wrestle, some of them.

Poor are kids of today,
They go to a toy shop
Or buy a computer
Then become potato
On the couch and idle.

Today's kids are like ants
Facing a cockroach, dead,
Its shadows cause scare,
A drop of water is ocean
Over it dance wrong waves!