Author’s cover letter: My name is Bahar, I am born and raised in Iran. On 2018 I moved to Latvia to experience new life and currently I an living in Riga. I am unpublished poet and these poems are from the collection that I wrote after my immigration. my experience of immigration and navigating new cultures has been a significant inspiration for my poetry, which often explores themes of displacement, identity, and longing. my poems are imbued with a deep sense of emotion and vulnerability, inviting readers to reflect on their own experiences of displacement and longing.
Imagination I giggle at the clown in the circus for hours. I drink cardamom tea and talk with a friend, surrounding the bliss I wash the dishes, Baking an apple crumble I take the dust off the house, listening to the Sposa Son Disprezzata I play hide and seek with kiddos, hearing repeated tearless stories of the neighbor. I visit Art galleries, Charming painters, black-and-white photographs, and long-lasting cigarettes. I organize poetry meetings, buy antiques, single Ballet tickets, and Avant-garde theaters But in all these hours, I'm walking hand in hand with you on the mountain Alps or Canary beaches Côte d'Azur, Sicilia, Swedish lapland Keep this mystery to yourself; people don't know about my insane fantasy.
Companion O windless wind, which direction are you coming from? Which great meadows have you passed? Which wildfire flames have you touched? Have you muddled that woman's hair like this? Have you harmed these broken and sharp oak branches? From the north or the south? Which path are you coming from? Now that you are taking my soul with you... Tell me Does your passing fall on the land of that lost companion? So go quickly. I have been waiting for a long time Longing for belonging Tie this passionate resilience spirit to his hands Bless this foggy and gloomy night ends Ah, waiting years is nothing more than a joke, laughless, hopeless
Crickets The night is the beginning of my day, and darkness is the remedy for the distance. lamp strings and human shadows Blurry faces and damp dancing bodies in the haze Summer salvation, Drunk laughter echos The sound of ice molds with a crickets symphony. Mustard sauce and Chanel lipstick. Walking high heels on the paving, unbalanced, vain Why does it have to be night so that a person's soul can rest? Ordinary people, do they have a memory to forget? A wound to heal? I am indebted to these graceful nights for years As the poisonous point of our separation is only in the light of the sun that shows off Let it be night; let it be dark
Fireflies humid October midnight with the sound of stubborn firewood my cold hands above the most rebellious amber flame. My eyes are entangled to say something. But my voice is silent. How should words be thrown into the fire, so it does not melt over their roar? To not be darkness over its light? Fireflies and maple trees owls and nightingales Surrendered to the night To the moon To the miracle of peace and love Hear me I want my soul to be the Mahogany flame of your fire The owl of your forest an authentic, eternal summer to your autumn shiver Embrace my divine love Hear my Mantra Don't take your eyes off me till the tender of sunrise my eyes are entangled with you. Do you also see me as the most loving Eve on earth?
Frankincense The curtains danced with an April wind around the cottage. My eastern redbud blooms soon and the magnolia is magnificent I have told a friend to bring me souvenirs from Delhi Frankincense has a mystic aroma for stormy days. I told a friend to bring me baskets of cherries from a town in Spain. Cherry for the lips, cherry for ears, cherry for sorrowful days. My lilac silk dress is made of weaves that are as soft as swan feathers for lonely days The beret hat has traveled over the oceans and looks like it was once worn by a lover in Paris. The Victorian Shelley teacup that shines and rises with me in blessing mornings. Books, ancient and thick, as if they were in the hands of a famous historian, in the middle of the night, Athens. The lotus that smiles with my twinkle and dies with my tears My intolerant and feverish heart has been waiting for years for a guest to stop by Knock my door, my April mystery, knock on my door
