Poetry

By

Sarah Pedramnia

Alas

It needs so much effort and luck to get to your place

So may you pray please?

It’s just a possibility, well,

You rightfully say Alas!

I think across the borderline

There exists a land where people are still friendly

And all inanimate objects are alive, tender, flirting and smooth

They sing, listen and understand, even the rough cliffs . . .

There, sky shines blue forever

And in a wet street at night an old worn-out lover

Sings “Lady” song from the 1990s

As I approach him to wipe away my tears;

Next time I’ll be the man; “I”, will be strong and cross the borders to you

Will travel time to your land

To the previous reincarnation, to today,

Will greet; shine your way forever with no farewell;

For falling stars there are no borders

I’ve met you there every night (though you might’ve forgotten) . . .

Deep in the ocean there is infinite freedom

I seek for a sea-side shelter by your side, then . . .

And you figure out reality there, with me;

You, my Reason and my Reality . . .

Shivering Black Swan

No she never cries,

She never had the chance to wow the crowd,

Her skin seemed older, loose and her fragile figure grew so thin aged by memories which seemed lifelong,

The tenderness which caused unbearable loss, for her,

No, No, she Never cries . . .

Her bones felt broken by those hands she had loved and cherished,

And wind had blown and found the way to her soul and heart;

Every time she stood on the tip of her toe,

The shivering BLACK SWAN was raped by deception, injustice and lies. . .

The candle inside her heart had gradually gone out by winds blown,

Its shivering flame

Oh,

The torn out cold heart

In the coldest season of the year . . .

Lake froze and so

Solitary swan was surrounded by ice;

She,

Gave up in such a night as this . . .

Summer,

How cold and delusive you can be in lover’s imagination in travail

Who has been deceived!

Cholera

Once upon a time there was a tree

With a singing shadow protected by land.

Birds she cuddled and caressed

Just as the ocean fondles the stretching curious sand.

Once upon a time a child would wonder

How miraculous was this world.

She waved at the sun and stars,

The moon, the melting snow man.

Once upon a time I was strong and fierce

And people fear, respect, admire a strong man.

Now I’m a fool, a crazy woman burning in love

Too weak, too silent, with shade of defeat over my head like scary clouds,

And birds are now all gone.

I’ve caught cholera disease,

Drinking shitty water, “Love is such!”

Forgotten how to behave in this lifeless world

Where man only claims love.

As I approach,

They run away!

“She must Burn to ashes” they say.

Yet I must live, loveless,

Live for another day.

(Those who claim LOVE have never faced the flames

For Cholera the only cure is to Burn)

Midnight Journey

Had forced herself to smile,

Would’ve been rejected otherwise

Afraid to cry because she

Wanted him to stay;

She could never reach his shoulders . . .

She felt loneliness of her soul watching chaos of figures; some running and chasing

something they Seemed to know just like HIM, some walking slowly hand in hand, in

HOPE to have found love before they meet their graveyard!

She could weep without shame this time, her mouth was shut not that she was afraid to

SAY but she’d lost once again she recalled;

Clenched her teeth

Then suddenly the

Twitching lips released her emotion

And burst into tears

As the train door closed

Will SHE find love before her dead end?

Sarah Pedramnia

I was born in 1983 in Tehran, Iran. I grew up in a family with humanist values and beliefs and was three when we realized that I was epileptic and was twelve when I realized that I have more to do than a normal person to be able to stand in society.

In 2009 I went to university and studied English Translation and am working on my thesis for a Masters. I have been working on poetry writing and fiction as a freelance writer and undertake complementary literature studies.

I have approximately 50-80 poems in Persian and a few poems in English. I consider myself not as a professional English poet but with good potential and some good English poems.

I started writing two novels in Persian last year, ’10 days in love’ and ‘Two days in Paris’ and may just turn them into scripts.
Along with poetry, I am writing a story in English ‘The Lady Lavender’ which is a story of the conflicts and life of a woman in the 1970s, not accepted by society due to certain circumstances. Her name was chosen by the process of making Lavender Oil, in which you should first cut the sprigs and then let them dry. It was after my divorce three years ago that my perception radically changed and most of my works reflect my own life and challenges faced in my country as a member and in life as a woman.