Nassy Fesharaki Poems

Lucky Man

I worked as labourer
For Hassan, a mason.
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Kashani

Was child in fifth grade
And my age around ten,
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Passports

When worked with the UN
Stories that I heard
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Devil peeks

On my right pass the bikes
Women are old and young
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The last cry

My poem is, as always
an observation, inspiration
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Damn Radios

I wish that radio was never invented
a damn box that mother said it was:
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Lone girl at night

Late at night, past the mid
no buses; very light traffic
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My Ex love

I have you on velvet in frame
attractive, young and same
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David Bowie

He too was sixty nine
and he died
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Treasure of truth

By now I, have no doubt
your target is my guts
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