Details |
Negar Chegeninezhad Poem
That day, I saw myself twice in the mirror
and neither one resembled the other.
One was coming toward you, and the other was turning back.
The one who came was tired, colorless;
with fear and haste, she drew lipstick across her cracked lips
to keep her distance from that ghostly face of hers,
from the face of a lost spirit.
The one who returned was the corpse of that very lost soul.
I died in your embrace—
among a hundred people standing on the bridge,
above the storks in the river,
the very moment the kingfisher dove.
Just as you pulled me toward yourself,
into your arms, though only for a brief greeting,
the seconds vanished.
On the revolving wheel, the bridge and the street and the river were dancing,
and I was giving up my life.
A drop of lipstick-red blood fell onto the collar of your leather jacket.
I laughed…
The one who returned was not like the one who had gone.
Copyright © Negar Chegeninezhad | Year Posted 2026
|
Details |
Negar Chegeninezhad Poem
Words, like freed dandelions, have blown away,
Who knows where each one has gone?
These scribbled fragments lie scattered in the corners,
And no one knows what became of them
when a heart fell silent,
and breath was cut off.
Yes—poetry… this eternal balm—
for years it could soothe no pain.
What happened, then,
that the spring of love began flowing again
from within these wounds?
The blood-red poppies of my notebook
have found life again
when two women
—she I was, and she I have become—
take each other’s hand.
They stitch the words together for you,
riding every drifting dandelion-seed
toward you…
Copyright © Negar Chegeninezhad | Year Posted 2026
|
Details |
Negar Chegeninezhad Poem
**Yes—
I am the boldest lover in all the world.
Who could ever claim to love more fiercely than I?
I spent countless years behind a window,
gazing at a path I knew you would never take toward me.
I sent arrow after arrow of love your way,
fully aware you would snap them and cast them aside.
I bought you gifts with trembling joy,
though I knew you would never choose a gift for me.
And I wrote you poems—
words you would never read.
I remained in love with you,
knowing you would never love me back;
I burned with longing for you,
knowing I would never reach your hands.
And still—forever—
I am your lover.
Who could dare claim
to love more than I?**
Copyright © Negar Chegeninezhad | Year Posted 2026
|
Details |
Negar Chegeninezhad Poem
A man appears, far off in my verse,
His dark eyes, brighter than my darkest hours.
His arrival is evident;
Each line yearns to paint his portrait,
Each part of me yearns for his will.
A steadfast cypress emerges in my distant verse,
Standing tall, breathing life into the poem,
Evergreen,
Ensuring my soul doesn’t wither, unloved.
Copyright © Negar Chegeninezhad | Year Posted 2026
|
Details |
Negar Chegeninezhad Poem
I swear by the night sky that songs are made for you.
By the moon and Venus,
by the sun and Mars,
by every moment when heavenly lovers meet, I swear
that whenever I looked up at this blue dome,
your thought had already sparked in my soul.
I close my eyes
and laugh at their mockery:
the mockery of your dried tea
at the bottom of the cup,
your empty place on the backrest,
and the door you never close behind you.
Believe me—
we are the fixed stars, not they.
We are here
day and night,
always present at sunrise and sunset.
They come and go,
while we remain as we are,
and you—
the central sun
that is no longer here.
Copyright © Negar Chegeninezhad | Year Posted 2026
|