“The Thousand Blind Eyes Of Butterfly”

The Thousand Blind Eyes Of Butterfly

Elahe Rahroniya(Noshad)

Poem Collection

:Read some poems from this collection

The Birth


Steal the escape  from me

Pick me up and hang me on your ears

And house me in the center of a home,

 stoves are burning

 and lit all around.

My gaze is stuck to the whiteness of the ceiling

And a snow ball threatens me from there.

Cover my eyes with your eyes

With stove,

 a clown hat,

and a birth day cake.

I need

the birth

 The execution of

 which     and


And death of question marks,

And a long cry

As long as the escape

And a far, far away land

From addicted hands

 to the seam of the window,

And waiting for a happening,

 which makes going  laugh,

And Contraction ,

 and perplexity.

I hate contraction

And ambush and weapon store

And any presumption of terror, and

The veil-wearing men, and

The elegy-singer Knights,

 in the shrines

And sparkle of going is lit in my eyes

I am an underground patient,

 my inner wails have riddled the Earth’s core,

Like a cheese

It’s a hollow of collapse under my feet

The window can’t be closed for fear

Since the air alarmed seepage at her identity

And I became a cracked window, who a great frame

Inject grandeur in my vessels every day

Three times per day

Greatness peaks in my muscles

and veins

 bit by bit,


And evaporates fatigue amidst my cracks.

Walking on the holes of horizon, I sing

Like Jesus  standing on the water,

 donating salmon fish to paupers,

And free breath to the dead

And life ….

I should find out

And my hands shouldn’t be idle

Like empty hands of finial,

 deceived by the sky

  for centuries.

And looks for laughter,

 in the tears of women in black.

I should review

Many of those moments which are left,

Near by the gates, gates

And the escape ways from contraction

My hands shouldn’t be idle

And my feet,

small enough

Should be ready to meet the Glass shoes

Steal the escape from me.

12.March 2012

 The birth giving

There are birds that lay golden eggs,

and horses that are born with wings.

In the land of the Persians

there is a bird, when its death comes through,

burns up, and a new baby arises from its ashes.

And there are pearls that are born in the depths of the sea.

Each birth contains new documents

which uncovers million-year-old secrets,

and a judge who judges us

to a mother, a father and a land.

In droves

 we get poured in to the universe like the navy of babie,

 We get sprinkled like salt

 in a big bowl

which is a huge orchestra,

and each of us

sitting in our special place

play the instrument,

 we have been condemned to.

Only a few of us stand up from our seats,

stop playing,

and write a new song.

The others play their instruments to death

and pass it on to the next baby.

  The day I met you,

I was not afraid,

although my instrument

was just a little red pencil,

and yours was a huge organ.

You became a servant to Christians in the land of the Vikings

And I debated with Muslims in the land of the Persians.

To this day that we both

stole our instruments

and fled from the bowl

and found each other in the center of

 a remote harbor.

I wrote a poem.

You made a melody.

And our baby was born.

We put it in a basket

and we floated it on the sea

and followed it until it came to Pharaoh’s palace.

As soon as the queen took it from the water and laughed,

we got happy

and I volunteered to nurse the baby

 in the slave girl’s clothes…

Giving birth is a strange thing, you see!

Sometimes there are birds that lay golden eggs,

and horses that are born with wings.

In the land of the Persians

there is a bird, when its death comes through,

burns up, and a new baby arises from its ashes.

June 27, 2016

To O.K 40th B.D

The day I met you

It was summer.

The sun had opened her yellow, thick, woolen skirt,

caughting white clouds with a fish hook,

 and sewed them on her skirt.

Standing behind the window,

I saw the flowers bubbled out of the soil

blob blob

and raised their skirts up toward the sun.

So I realized that the day

was pregnant with a secret.

Me and the mirror became eye to eye

and the mirror’s eyes turned green.

I walked in to the garden

and smelled the bodies of all the planets one by one,

When a flying bird threw a shell on my head.

There was a pearl in the shell, a sentence written on it

 “Today you shall meet someone.”

27 June 2016

To the 30th of July 2014

دیدگاهتان را بنویسید

نشانی ایمیل شما منتشر نخواهد شد. بخش‌های موردنیاز علامت‌گذاری شده‌اند *