Nassy Fesharaki Poems

I am told of my ancestors,
They saw a curled scorpion almost frozen dead.
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Sara

Sara
Dear Sara
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Rain

Rain again! Singing pearls knock on roofs
At window I’m alone; rain floods on the roads
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Morality

“Don’t fly your pigeons…”
Mom said and told me that each time I looked up at them is like looking under her skirt.
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In water of my thoughts
Damp and wet, full of love
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I rode
You wrote
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There was a seminar
Amnesty was to talk
This office is well known
Defends poor; has eye on politics.
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Hunt


Once a bird in sky, far flown, hungry, was tired.
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I am who I am

The future
Knows not
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Arrange the words,
We have some talking to do.
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