Thinking Of Anne Boleyn Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Thinking of Anne Boleyn

Can I be the righteous heir,
To that lovely poet?

By blood, an Armenian,
Karo was an Iranian.

Recited his poem, as a child,
Then, a young schoolboy won a prize.

Indebted to him I,
Doubtlessly must remain good, loyal.

In tunnels of darkness,
He, to me, has been a torch to shed light.

Like the sun in the sky,
Gave light to satellites, halo to North Star.

To him, I was a jar,
And filled me to the brim, without a top.

But in his final years,
Sad, wrote to the presidents,
Of Yankees, the U of S:
"Please stop the bloodshed! "

As his loyal, righteous heir,
Traveled to Ukraine,
Saw buildings broken,
And thousands of pictures,
Of people, old, infants.

They are killed by bombshells,
For the sins not committed.

Like Karo,
Looked at East and Putin,
Looked at West to Biden,
With red eyes, shed tears,
Kept sobbing and shouted:
"Please stop the bloodshed! "