My eyes are still breathing
Remove the corpses from my face
The sun still reproduces the concept of day in my eyes
Elham Hamedi, a renowned poetess, painter and writer from Shiraz, Iran, shares her poems
Elham Hamedi, born in Shiraz, Iran, in 1967, is a multimedia artist, painter, writer, and poet. She is a permanent member of the Scientific Association of Visual Arts of Iran, and executive member of the Writers Capital International Foundation (WCIF). She is the author of the book of poems published in Italy. Her works are present in numerous international exhibitions and anthologies. Holding a Master’s degree in Artistic Research and a Degree in Radiology, she combines the study of the body at a medical level with artistic materials in a psychoanalytic relationship. She has received numerous international literary awards by publishing collections and writings in prose and poetry in specialized magazines and catalogs with prominent publishing houses. Her collection of paintings entitled “Fragment” was welcomed by critics and international magazines.
Hamedi is known as one of the global and chosen faces of Asia, and one of the fifty memorable women in the third volume of the book with the same title “50 memorable women “written by Jeanette Eureka Tiburcio. She has had international Personal and group Art Exhibitions in different countries.
REMOVE THE CORPSES!
My eyes are still breathing
Remove the corpses from my face
The sun still reproduces the concept of day in my eyes
The moon passes between my eyebrows
And it captures a word
Between my lips
And begins a new interpretation of man
My eyes can still climb on the trunk of a tree
They make a piece of the sky belong to themselves
Among leaves
Remove the corpses from my face
Words are suffocating
***
ROMANTIC PAUSE
The sky turns into a mirror by a romantic pause of your gaze
Your images keep passing through the elegance of the doors
An eyelid that does not close when you come
And night comes from vain repetition to the new creations of the moon
There is no gravity on earth
Except repeating our footsteps
Which is parallel
Which is the interference of two inverted images
With reflecting the unity of two thoughts
That confirms the movement of the roots of life
***
ZAQBOOR
Zaqboor does not reproduce the blue of the sky
Zaqboor lays an egg
in the throat of grief
His black legs are stuck
In the horror headlines of the newspapers
The tips of his chickens
Are broken on the sheet music
My cautious scarecrow!
My shy bird!
Radio, at the frequencies of the thorn bush
Whispers of the thorn through the news of the war
I will interpret your zigzag path in the desert to the world.
My bird!
My days!
My Dead Days!
[Note by the poet: The Zaqboor or Podoces pleskei (scientific name: Podoces pleskei) is a bird of the crow family. The Zaqboor is the “national bird of Iran”, (the only native bird of this country) and the exclusive species of Lut desert. Zacboor lives only in desert and semi-desert areas of eastern and southeastern Iran (Sistan and Baluchestan province and ten other provinces).This bird is very different from its other relatives named crows: Including being grounded so that he prefers running to flying even when he feels threatened, having a good voice. The long, strong, black legs of this bird are suitable for running fast among bushes, and its long and curved tip legs for digging the ground. Zaqboor is a shrewd and somewhat secretive bird, which makes it difficult to observe in nature. This bird runs in the form of zigzags on the ground among the bushes in times of danger. Both male and female birds sing. This song is monotonous.]
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Shared by: Angela Kosta Academic, journalist, writer, poet, essayist, literary critic, editor, translator
