Torn Papers Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Torn papers

Torn papers
Can be found among the
Things left of the hoarders
(to some eyes…unaware!)

When Bio is written
By one of the experts,
On, about dead person
(a solider or writer)
The facts of the short notes
Come to sight, into light;
By learned, with knowledge.

We learn of
Cameron, Einstein
As well as Robert Frost
And many other ones
When Bio comes alight…

Small notes and the marks
On papers, left behind
Or the things in a chest
Or placed on/in shelves
Or on desks
Or even on tables
Can be like Khayyam's vase.

"That vase too was like me
In love with some Venus;
And handle on its neck
Was hand on lover's neck…"

In my room, in boxes
On table and trays
You find the torn papers
Some with notes
Some plain…

No, am not a hoarder
Have no time to write them
(As I must, in order…)

One of them, with no word
Was pulled, torn by a drunk
And is, long story
Of a girl, like many…

Broken and on run
Having lost peace and calm.

Everyday changes room
In hotels, towards cheap
As shrinks her money.

Abandoned she is and
Has a lot in her bag…

But no one has the time
To see her inside out
Therefore she…

Speaks loud with bad mouth
And "Lady, " when I called
Was bullet in her mind,
But for while; soon to die…

I kept the paper she
Pulled, tore to three-piece.

This takes me to the past
When I heard uncles, aunts:
"Tell me of your friends
I tell you who you are…"

And poem in the books
That, guess is of Saadi
"Elevates you wise if, even is enemy,
But drags you beneath, if friend; unaware."

When returned to colleague
To tell him what happened,
Only met a piece of same puzzle!

Everywhere…and Persians.