Mohsen Rahjerdi [Iran / USA]

 

Halloween in Gaza
 
Trick or Treat, Trick or Treat!
Tonight, you are 
All invited for Halloween in Gaza!
Please bring your friends and family!
Trick or Treat, Trick or Treat!
 
The Strip expands as vast as the whole globe
As vast as the whole sky tonight!
Trick or Treat, Trick or Treat!
You are all invited. 
Trick or Treat, Trick or Treat!
 
Please dress to impress
Though none should spend a cent for costume,
Neither there is need for the firework or candles
Trick or Treat, Trick or Treat!
Zionists have promised to light it up
To send over phosphorous fires,
All for free!
Trick or Treat, Trick or Treat!
 
What a bargain tonight,
You are all invited.
Leave your children with a loved one
Gaza kids are all, ready for the show
Trick or Treat, Trick or Treat!
 
Kids with horrifying gears
With much extravagant panache
They are all in dismaying shapes and fashion
Some dressed as broken dolls 
Some with a shrapnel in head
Some in bloody white gowns.
Trick or Treat, Trick or Treat!
 
Some have already turned into visiting souls
Half-burnt candles, raised from never dug graves
Such a stunning show!
You are invited to tonight
Trick or Treat, Trick or Treat!
 
Please do not bring candies for Gaza kids
But bring lots of sweets for, you may need lifesaver on your way
Back home
Trick or Treat, Trick or Treat!
 
 
A Song
 
Some day in my time
I would write a rhyme,
only if I could.
A poem of sharpened similes,
of all the cruel deeds
of the days and nights,
and endless toil,
with careless heeds.
 
Yes, I would.
Or maybe I should!
 
I should write a poem
with no metaphors,
'cause nothing can truly
match what endures.
 
Yes, I would.
Or maybe I should!
 
Write of nor sky, and not of the land,
nor of the clouds, and not of the sand.
 
Yes, I would.
Or maybe I should!
 
I wanted to compare
the freedom of the air,
to that of the human race,
if we could live with grace.
 
I wanted to draw a parallel
between men's bond and
bees working happily
in harmony and ease.
 
Yes, I would.
Or maybe I should!
 
This is my crime, my aching pain:
I ask myself, again and again,
why the notions of pity
vanished all in vain?
 
Yes, I would.
Or maybe I should!
 
I tell myself
in this wretched time,
"Wretched crimson filth
on the face of my race."
Maybe in my life,
it is truly my crime.
 
Maybe I should.
Yes! Someday I would.
 
 
Pome-grenade
 
Pomegranate was the start
And the end of the Fall.
At the attack sundown,
Silence rumbled heavy
over the night.
Pomegranate was distributed
hand to hand
one unripe
one staled
one ripen.
My share turned to be
fresh with so many seeds
all red red, sweet.
I broke the skin of the
grenade-like fruit,
a red sweet stream of
juice spilled into my eyes.
I looked back
Over my shoulders,
The bridge was down.
Not a single soldier
Would return back home!
 
(Composed in 1984, the poem is important because of its novel critique towards the war. Although the title is not repeated in the poem, it is a coined word by juxtaposition of pomegranate and grenade. A dismal depiction of a soldier's life in war.) 
 

 
Author’s Bionote:
 
*Mohsen K. Rahjerdi (1965) is an Iranian-American poet. His poetry is defined as concerned with emotions, love for the nature, liberty, human rights and human sentiments & in different settings. He writes poems in English and Farsi. Mohsen has won several literary awards for his works and has participated/directed different international poetry festivals. Rahjerdi has translated and published post-revolutionary Iranian literature in the form of a two-volume poetry anthology under the title of “Let’s Trust the Sunshine”. In addition to translation and poetry he has published novels and short stories with themes regarding the life in wartime. He has served as jurist for different poetry and film festivals. He is a therapist by occupation. He has completed his academic education in educational linguistics and psychology and a PhD in counselling. Mohsen Rahjerdi is now living in Tehran, Iran. Teaching in Tehran University as an invited professor and working as psychology therapist in his private clinic in Tehran. His poems have been translated into Arabic, Hindi, French and Spanish.