I HAVE BECOME INTOXICATED AGAIN

November 20, 2016

“I have become intoxicated again.
You are such a potent wine, my friend.
To escape your withdrawal effects,
tomorrow I will drink in excess.

Alas, why make me love?
I was aware, conscious, and sensible before.
I am ill by cause of this illusion.
The devil plays tricks on me more and more.

I was a harp you immaculately plucked at will.
Your score, the nightingale song within
notes composed to imprison and bear me wings.
Oh, if only they could hear how it sings!

I am now beyond parched.
My strings left untouched.
You are no longer an oasis, my friend,
but a mirage soon coming to an end.”

Kamand Kojouri

I CAN SENSE YOUR LOVE

November 20, 2016

“I can sense your love,
why leave me in darkness?
Beguile me for your amusement,
stealing my soul without kisses.
You are the sun and I, the moon.
Your beauty is reflected in my eyes.
When we are apart, I am extinguished
in the blackness of these skies.”

Kamand Kojouri

WHERE WERE YOU?

November 20, 2016

“Where were you
when
I undressed and told the tales of my day?
Where were you
when
I was silent with God in prandial pray?
Where were you
when
I recited love poems as I lay?
Where were you?”

Kamand Kojouri

I’VE WRITTEN YOU SIXTY-SEVEN LOVE POEMS

November 20, 2016

“I’ve written you sixty-seven love poems.
Here’s another one for you.
But really, for me.
These poems are the candles that I light
with the fire you have ignited in me.
I place this candle here and another there
so even if the stars have argued with the moon
and are sulking away in a corner,
you can still find your way to me.
Sixty-eight poems now. What
does the future hold for us?
Joy? Disappointment? Gentle caresses? And subtle neglect?
I hope the good is more than the bad. Much more.
For what is the point of love
if by lighting these candles
our own flame loses its brightness?
I know the good is more than the bad.
Much more.
I cannot wait to write you sixty-nine.”

Kamand Kojouri

I LEFT THE BANK

November 20, 2016

“I left the bank,
for they wouldn’t deposit
my cheque of poems.
I went to the store,
but they declined
my currency of words.
I boxed all my stories
and gave them to charity,
yet they refused my gift
and asked me to give blood
instead.
I opened my books
and made them look:
What do you think
I wrote these in?‘”

Kamand Kojouri

O WEARY ANGELS

November 20, 2016

“O weary angels,
don’t look at me with those eyes.
If that is your state
then what of our cries?
What can I tell you of goodness
that you don’t already know?
What can I tell you of faith,
of hope and love
that you yourselves bestow?
O angels,
don’t pluck another feather,
this isn’t the sky,
it’s just the weather.
Please, angels, try.
We are one all together.
Look up and listen,
I’ll say it once and then put down my pen:
We are sorry for our ignorance
and even though we are worldly,
it might happen again.
We are sorry for your weariness
and even though you aren’t worldly,
we are no more than human.”

Kamand Kojouri

A POETESS IS NOT SELFISH

November 20, 2016

“A poetess is not as selfish
as you assume.
After months of agonising
over her marriage of words—the bride—
and spaces—the groom,
she knows that as soon
as she has penned the poem,
it’s yours to consume.
So, without giving it a think,
she blows on the ink
and the letters fly away
like dandelions on a windy day,
landing on hands and lips,
on hearts and hips.
But more often than not,
you can easily spot
them trodden and forgotten,
becoming sodden and rotten.
Yet, she will continue to make
what’s others to take
because selfishness
is not the mark of a poetess.”

Kamand Kojouri

DOES GOD KNOW?

November 20, 2016

“Does God know
the number of kisses
before we fall in love?
Yesterday, I was nobody
and I believed myself important.
Today,
I feel my worth
in you.
You, with your emerald eyes and ebony hair,
even your heartbeat is beautiful.
You, who is my greatest joy,
all other concerns vanish in your presence.
You swallow time
and consume space,
inspiring all my passion
with a single embrace.
I love your existence.”

Kamand Kojouri

FELL IN LOVE FIRST

November 20, 2016

“Fell in love first,
fell in love quickly—like I was pushed.
Fell in love next,
fell in love slowly—like I was strolling.
Falling in love now
and feeling crazy.
Thinking of closing my eyes
and jumping.”

Kamand Kojouri