Of Sara Teasdale - Poem by Nassy Fesharaki
Of Sara Teasdale
Sara has opened it
a window to window of my heart
she writes on and about:
“The Lighted Window”
“He said: …winter dusk…”
like many of poets and writers and artists
saw the world as nothing to live for, of value
She made me make a cart with bearings
in it I
(as we did in old days of asphalt In Tehran)
two bearings on the rear
a handle and hinge and …
Someone pushed and
I drove as if car…
She took me to marbles and the games
And water in the pipe on corner…
Oh Sara, oh Sara, oh Sara was it you?
Or am I crazy?
Will I too be like you?
(has gone home…”committed suicide.”)
Where is guts?
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You