The Blue Tiles Of Isfahan Poem by Kenneth James Byrne

The Blue Tiles of Isfahan



Wish Matisse was there

with his coloured paper and big scissors;

he would cut out blue dancers

we would see them on Imam square

dazzling Isfahanis.


And don't forget your paint-box, Henri

to brush goldfish into being

in pools and ponds, contemplation

of bold orange.


He could sit for hours as if in

the south of France or Morocco


the blue tiles of Isfahan

would inspire our French grand master

Cut-outs and paintings so splendid

Iran would give him the golden keys

to the city, an honorary citizen, merci!