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Pashang Salehi Poem
Waiting to be free
I am dying, but not like anybody who died.
I am living, but in the rainbow, I do reside.
How much longer will I go until secrets unveil?
My mind cannot comprehend, but my heart will decide.
My problems are too simple, my remedy complex;
Love is my medicine, which I have identified.
Destination is unknown; the journey is too short,
My vehicle is broken, and our driver is mystified.
My body is a cage; my soul is shackled inside.
Speak not of troubles; my pain will be justified.
The door is half open; I can see the ray of love,
My heart will take over until we’re all unified.
Tomorrow, I will fly with swallows; they know the path.
Who can you trust “Haloo”? There is no one to confide.
1/25/16 Haloo
I dedicate this poem to Daniel Turner, for all his love and friendship.
Copyright © Pashang Salehi | Year Posted 2016
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Pashang Salehi Poem
The Voice…
On a dark night that was darker than my pain,
nothing was there for me except to complain.
I hid myself in the emptiness of bed.
Nothing was there except loneliness instead.
I heard a sound that was not like any sound.
Joyously called my name, sought me, and then found.
He told me to get up, wake up look at dawn.
The darkness of the night soon will be all gone.
The voice told me that morning dawn, full of light;
has the power to wash darkness from its night.
The voice asked me about the days of my youth.
That I am old and grey, with forgotten truth.
I asked him that who are you, and what are you?
I don't know you, didn’t see you passing through.
Who are you that suddenly came to my room?
Aren’t you God, and I am, meeting my doom?
I called your name many times when I was young.
I prayed your name day and night with broken tongue.
Now, you are calling my name in this day and age;
not worth talking to you; anger creates rage.
I am too old, and I had too many sins,
Living is the only game that nobody wins.
Go and bother another soul beside me,
I am tired of you; you shall never be.
The voice told me that I was out of my mind.
And I have been beguiled, as though I am blind.
He told me that he was with me the whole time.
He let me to fly in this paradigm.
He told me that he is the end of a start.
He is the love that cries from an aching heart.
He told me that he is water in the spring.
He is those nightingales who so blithely sing.
He told me that he is bottom, and he’s up.
He is grapes, and he is wine in the same cup.
He told me that he gave feathers for a flight.
He made it so the sun shall set within night.
I asked him if I could see him with my eyes,
I will be like the moon, lighting up the skies.
That I looked for any sign to believe him,
with just all promises, dreams maybe all grim.
He told me to wake up, open up my eyes,
and see what is to see, a blessing in disguise.
I did open my eyes saw a glowing bright,
like a drifting shadow, in an ocean of light.
I saw my son saying, "Wake up! Wake up! dad",
What’s the matter with you? Are you going mad?
5/14/16 Haloo
Copyright © Pashang Salehi | Year Posted 2016
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Pashang Salehi Poem
Motherland…
I am a desert, barren and hot.
Hoping for the rain, which I forgot.
Once, I was green, golden, and bright.
Nightingales singing night after night.
My fresh breeze at dawn was ever nice,
Showered me blossoms like paradise.
Year after year, I dressed up in green.
Green and reddish with white in between.
Until I became older than old,
All I have now is darkness and cold.
I lost all of my glory and youth,
Hope death is not the end or the truth.
I had so many kings that were tall,
Now, I am filled with filth that they crawl.
Tired of being a desert that’s old,
Thousands and thousands of years to be told.
Cyrus and Darius lived within me.
Now I am barren; how could it be?
I am now desert far from the sea;
They burned my soul so no one can see.
Empty and lonely, thirsty and dry,
hope for the rain and generous sky.
Hope for someone to answer my cry,
Wash up my tears, and don’t let me die.
I need a hero like the old times,
Come and wash me from all the crimes.
Come to me, my love, my lovely rain,
shower me with love, get rid of pain.
If you come back and shower me, fine
promise I give you, I'll drink your wine.
For me, rain is love; love is my life.
To live without love is endless strife.
I want to become a jungle of love,
making love and being free as a dove.
I am now dying, dying of thirst,
Hope for a drizzle; first thing is first.
1/28/20 Haloo
Note: Motherland is Iran, the birthplace of civilizations, a country with thousands of years of history. In the past forty years, there is a great tension between the government of Iran and the United States. This tension has escalated recently to the point of an imminent war between the two countries. The people in Iran are suffering from an authoritarian government on one side and sanctions and pressure on the other. This humble piece is written to give you the understanding that under a millimeter of skin, we’re all the same, the same humans, and humanities are the same regardless of religion, culture, and geographical background.
Copyright © Pashang Salehi | Year Posted 2020
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Pashang Salehi Poem
The Four Seasons…
It was spring and I was young when I had wine.
I was singing and dancing and doing fine.
The wine was so divine, made my blossoms glow.
The spring is for the youth, makes everything shine.
Summer came and I was older, full of joy.
I was in love, and love taught me to enjoy.
I was flying, kissing, dancing having fun.
Didn't know that the end is there to destroy.
The autumn was yellow, tired, full of pain.
My garden was there but flowers lived in vain.
The nightingales departed, my youth as well.
I could not see the way, clouds were crying rain.
Now is winter and winter promises cold.
I am there but alone, with no one to hold.
The garden is barren, empty, no more youth.
The only thing is there, is me that is old.
10/24/18 Haloo
This poem is in the form of "Rubaiyat", it is the plural form of Rubai. Rubai is a quatrain with rhyming of AABA. Each Rubai is a book by itself, it starts and ends within the quatrain, but when it's in a form of Rubaiyat, it follows the single theme with the same meter throughout. Poetrysoup has a good explanation of this format.
Copyright © Pashang Salehi | Year Posted 2018
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Pashang Salehi Poem
Playground…
Playground…
I am making decisions every morning,
None of them comes along with any warning.
To go right or to go left, which one is right?
Living in darkness or hoping to see light.
I made million decisions, most of them fine,
Few I made that I think it wasn’t mine.
Few that changed my life led me to despair,
I wish I had a chance go back and repair.
What if I had the power to do it right?
To go back and play all day and all night.
What if I can go back to play like a young?
To sing all of the songs that ought to be sung.
What if, instead of books, I learned to live life,
to learn dance, and learn to play with no more strife?
Alas, sun is setting, darkness coming soon.
My hope is to see it; that wandering moon.
I wish there was a game I could play now.
A childish game if you can show me it how.
The sinful mirror on my nearest wall,
Reminding my summer has gone; it is fall.
The autumn now, it is cold and full of pain.
The winter promises more days to complain.
I am thinking to go back and do it right.
As if mistakes never were an oversight.
I am thinking of a play in the playground.
To play as young again, hope youth to be found.
If I play hard again, I might become young,
I will dance like a fool, unknown and unsung.
I don’t know where to play or who I can trust.
In this strange game of life, aging is unjust.
Where is my playground, my supernal bliss?
Awake me once again; no life is like this.
7/28/18 Haloo
Note: This particular style of poetry is called "Masnavi"; it is a spiritual couplet usually with eleven syllables. Poetrysoup has a great explanation and example of this form of poetry.
Copyright © Pashang Salehi | Year Posted 2018
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Pashang Salehi Poem
Mother Nature..
I see a mountain; wake me up there.
Tired of dreaming, no time to spare.
I will be flying soberly drunk.
I am just living, don’t ask me where.
There will be some light full of delight.
I am tired of darkness and night.
I will be drinking, drinking the dew.
Thanking the sunshine, shining so bright.
I am waiting and waiting to see.
Watching your sunset under a tree,
Seeking for wisdom, seeking your path,
Flying toward you, dancing with glee.
I am so lonely, sky is my friend.
Talking and smiling, so I pretend.
I will be seeing you in my dreams.
Waiting and hoping how this will end.
Tell me where you are; I am abused.
Lots and lots of pain used and misused.
Tell me what to do; I am so lost.
It is no wonder I am confused.
4/16/2017 Haloo
Copyright © Pashang Salehi | Year Posted 2017
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Pashang Salehi Poem
Owl’s Whoo Whoo……
Do not ask me whoo is whoo.
I will tell you whoo whoo whoo!
Whoo can fly at night like me?
I don’t know whoo, don’t ask whoo.
How can I see things at night?
I know how is, you know whoo?
I hate morning and its Sun,
I like moonlight from guess whoo?
What is there, has always been,
Unseen, untold, I know whoo!
When you don’t know whoo is whoo,
Come at night, I’ll tell you whoo.
Whoo whoo is my sound at night
Can you sing like me whoo whoo?
2/2016 Haloo
For contest sponsored by Eve Roper
Owls Personification Contest
Copyright © Pashang Salehi | Year Posted 2016
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Pashang Salehi Poem
The Life Is …
The Life Is …
When I was young, there was no pain,
The only pain was to complain.
When I was young, I did not care,
Just as long as my love was there.
When I was young, my life was great.
But I was there a bit too late.
A bit too late to know life was,
being young and having no flaws.
A bit too late to celebrate,
What I had then was called my fate.
Now it’s different, weather is cold,
I turned into a man that’s old.
The spring has passed, summer is gone,
Autumn at rest, winter is on.
I am too old and know it’s gone.
It is too dark to hope for dawn.
Now I know that a part of life,
It is old age and lives with strife.
Now I know that my life is not,
The perfect plan when I had thought.
The life is not the silken dress,
Unmarked from flaws, full of success.
My life is just a song I sing,
It is winter chasing the spring.
It is sorrow, it is laughter,
It is hope for morning after.
My life is just a long poem,
Had a young star; none would know him.
The life is just a shooting star,
It is so bright but can’t go far.
Blink your eyes; it’s all be gone,
I played this game like a faceless pawn.
I played so well; somehow, I lost.
You don’t want me to count my cost.
My life is like a field of dream,
Or maybe like a moonlit stream.
My life is like a drop of dew,
Waiting the Sun to say adieu.
My life is like the dew at dawn,
The sun will kiss; it will be gone.
My life is not to be just young,
It is okay to be unsung.
My life is like the morning breeze,
It can bring storms or bring you ease.
You are hoping for one more dream,
That wakes you up in golden gleam.
The life is like a candle’s flame,
It lights up love or burns to blame.
The games are on, and the moves are fast.
I do not know how long they last.
For some, it’s short; for some, it’s long.
Go have more fun; it is not wrong.
Remember now, it might get late,
Go play your move before checkmate.
10/2/2019
Haloo
Note: The painting is called “A reminder”; it’s acrylic on wood.
Note: This style of poetry is called "Masnavi"; it is the spiritual couplets. This particular masnavi consists of eight syllables in each line. Poetrysoup has a great explanation and example of this form of poetry.
Copyright © Pashang Salehi | Year Posted 2019
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Pashang Salehi Poem
My Parting Gifts…
Goodbye, my son, my only king.
You are my love, your name I sing.
My wish was more to be with you,
to be with you, and see you through.
It is my fate to leave you now.
My dread was this, to tell you how.
I’m going away, place unknown.
The way I lived was not my own.
I am going, and I’ll complain.
Letting you go, it’s all my pain.
I am with you, with morning dawn.
Kissing your shadow until it’s gone.
My parting gifts to you, my son,
To live your life the way is fun.
Surrender to the thing you love;
what measures love grows above.
To get knowledge to find out why;
What is this life to you and I?
Me and you both, we are oneness.
There is no fear to feel darkness.
I am going without goodbye,
Remember me the way I fly.
2/16/16 Haloo
For: AJ
Copyright © Pashang Salehi | Year Posted 2016
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Pashang Salehi Poem
Diamonds
We all have so many diamonds that we own,
but we think of them as glass or bits of stone.
We often sell them as cheap pieces of junk,
but yet always we think of them as unknown.
The diamonds are the youth, your health, and no pain.
Making love with your love, not much to complain.
A thousand laughs, a thousand ways to enjoy,
Getting old is the pain, no need to explain.
My days are darken since my love, she is gone.
The nightingales are calling me to hold on.
The light is leaving me keeping me in dark.
How much darkness there is, I’ll die before dawn.
What if life is a bowl, in there, full of pain?
The pain is there to drive you and me insane.
Remember when we were young bursting with life?
My face is wet, is it from tears or from rain?
There are only a few days that you are young,
on those days you believe that life is unsung.
To be young is a dream no youth ever knows.
No one is here to hear me what I have sung.
If you are golden and like gold full of lust,
Or maybe like the kings, you live and you must,
You may have all the things all big and all small,
At the end of the road, you will become dust.
8/2019 Haloo
Note: This poem is in the form of "Rubaiyat", it is the plural form of Rubai. Rubai is a quatrain with the rhyming of AABA. Each Rubai is a book by itself, it starts and ends within the quatrain, but when it's in a form of Rubaiyat, it follows the single theme with the same meter throughout. Poetrysoup has a good explanation of this format.
The painting is called " a reminder". It is acrylic on plywood.
Copyright © Pashang Salehi | Year Posted 2019
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