Ali Abdolrezaei

My new poems in the new issue of Danse Macabre Magazine.

'The Almond Tree'

You no longer wish to look

like the one I liked

you’ve changed your shadows

shaved your hair

and sitting knees apart before me

thorns of the hidden rose sticking out

You come to my dreams always afterwards

after I wake

I think of you still

Like a rose that buds

under its thorns in late summer

no matter if I water it or not

my hair all fallen at my feet pre-autumn

the children have already denuded

the almond tree

....

'Advertised Love'

None other than your name

is the word

that alights on the lip

like a cigarette

I light up

No other than your name

is the smoke I blow out

in rings like O...O

Ophelia!

Stick no finger in this ring

so one yes

could suddenly become a noose

you’re not blind to pretend

you just don’t see how

at the back this pile of paper

becomes an advert

for the wall

except for these pages

that indicate I’m still alive

I have been dead for years

Listen

someone is still drumming

in my heart

other than this

I have no heart ache

...

'World War Final'

We who had not believed

the war has ended

did not leave the trenches

nor put down our “Death to...”

or quit being so ridden in dust

We who have not believed

the towns are still on the offensive

the fields, still in retreat

and in between the forests are lost

While the war is still in between us

we are worming Kusturika’s Underground

like when the bombs came

and we hid under the school bench

so behind the desk

they could give a seat to Mr Veteran

The war is approaching again

so Zahra’s Heaven Cemetery

won’t sit so far apart from Tehran

so the military police swap places

with the street dogs

and women who recently learnt to smile

sit a little closer to tears

There won’t be sirens in between respites

to run to the basements this time

there shall be no enemies

the earth shall be

the trench in which to take refuge

We who don’t believe

The missiles won’t arrive this time

to take away a hundred people at a time

this won’t be a soldiers’ war

we shall all flap feathered wings

One cannot play pranks

with an atom bomb

...

You can read my other poems in link below:

//www.dansemacabreonline.com/#!__dm-58-skin/poetry/vstc11=advertised-love