Thorn-filled garden

My thoughts are seeds that I hope to grow In this world where soldiers fight, yet the king is the hero But who am I

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Looking back

The article by Abbas Saffari, “Public hanging”, reminded me of a poem I wrote on my return from my last visit to Iran:   I

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Dawn to dusk

In the light of the dawn in the purples and grays I was beautiful then tall and sinuous (then) you said mysterious even though I

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  I searched and asked What is life? I received many answers, Long explanations of different theories, quotations from different philosophers and on and on.

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  This celebration Recognition that you are I am Alive Breathing In and out, in and out Without thinking Being The extremes and in between

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Beyond the fog

  How mysterious is the fog even though I know there is nothing on the other side except: a drunk, shouting at the night the

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Nader Davoodi


… 31 pix … click on photo to see next … 31 pix … click on photo to see next Visit Nader Davoodi's store |

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Transactual halflies

Stripped shoulders and smoky leather sighs Sheer dry-clean certainty and old manner tries Lies groovier throws and stupors to dance Allergic flirting near deadly denials

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