Father’s day soiree

“In memory of Dr. Heshmatollah Oghazian,
dedicated to his daughter, dear Olga whom I would call Olgatarin” 19/1/2022

My writings
Are nothing more than an excuse
To fill a heart by your beats
...
My writings
Are still in its infancy
To understand where is your seat
...
My writings
Are keen walkers, but sometimes paralyzed
To give a reflection of your being
...
My writings
Are far from paper, in a line-up
To arrange our nightly virtual speech
...
My writings
Are shouting a hidden turbulence
Of reviving every sec you’ve been slept
...
My writings
Are nothing more than an old training drill
To learn a stand after my pen is wet
...
My writings
Are going to feed every basket of poor
who survive on ink, not only by food
...
My writings
Even if are confined to your leave
Can still be a legal kickback for your door
...
My writings
Are posting to those who judge
Not a jury, but a secret diary to address you more than more
...
My writings
Drop by drop are captured by paper
To give what the lines too long are hungry for
...
My writings
Are sometimes moving beyond the words
To give what your silence could be grateful for
...
My writings
are sucking the lines of my drafts
looking for each point your breath is rewarded for
....
My writings
is a nightly gathering of all illiterates
can heartily read but not understand you left more than more
...
My writings
are all uneducated and gotten stuck at periods
waiting a space to kiss you on a persian lore
one day a lost word come up from missing line
to smell you again one time more

by Iranian Researcher & poet
Mostafa Sarabzadeh