Hello every one, First of all thank you for your time spending with my poems. If I talk about me and poetry I should start from beginning:
From the early age I found the poetry as the special language of my soul, things could be expressed differently, and by the day when I grew up the life showed me its real face, then I realized that:
* suffering could be the best teacher and has got a strong impact on the inspiration and poetry works.
*poet can melt into the poem until it becomes part of his/her Character, and we can call it a trustful companion.
subsequently I felt the poetry is my real country, wherever I go it comes with me.
* then the real language of the poet would be the POETRY itself, and the good poem can survive in every languages.
Nowadays the poems can talk indirectly to whom they care about the modern world of the poetry and wanting to discover new styles and aesthetics.. I am pleased to reveal somewhat have been said about my latest style:
After 30 years of thinking, living, wondering with poetry and discovery of a new world through poems... the style, themes and forms of these poems:
• As a collection of after postmodernist poems, they are departing from inside the place-time to outside of them.
• They are open texts, with various meanings and interpretations. Leaving a big space of freedom for the readers and their different readings.
• Absence of ego and Narcissism, but rather giving priority to objectivity and generalizing themes and meanings in order to song for humanity without different.
• While they are revolving and circling around life, human philosophy and their concerns, it is hard to find in most of them -not only a real human- but even human pronouns and characters are absence as well.
• Used somehow creative surrealist and symbolic arts.
• New and different poems experiences.
• Deep thinking and wondering about paradoxes and metaphors in them will enable the readers to enter into that peaceful and innocent world of meanings.
The Goodness in the Universe
when the sun departed
you slept
...
Clouds are passing differently
Always in change:
Shapes, colours, directions…
Sometimes become glasses
...
When a poet dies
A flock of white birds will dissolve
inside the clouds
a sleepy and lonely dusk
...
One morning
before we wake up
the postman freezes
just before putting a letter
...