Where is My Boat Captain?

I was at high school when I wrote the Farsi version of this poem, then I was a Ph.D. student when I published that in my book “Words for myself” (Harfhayee Baraye Khodam- inPersian). On that time, I never thought that I may republish it in Eng 20 years later. People always share lots of feelings in common as human.


Rings of a golden necklace

Hanging on the blue neck

The sun is sparkling

Shimmering strands, here and there

Pieces of silver cloud

Brilliant cuts on top

Soar on coastal winds

Across the sea, here and there

Footprints on gravel

Disappear one by one

Scallops are traveling

On the waves, here and there

Childhood’s memorized

Making cottage in size

Riding a horse of wood

And wheels, here and there

Happy children of the town

Hiding their hands behind

With the gentle sound of the captain

Dancing on the boats, here and there

Knock and plink of the board

Took the captain to the shore

Sometimes in a canoe,

Sometimes on a boat

Made us all sit, here and there

But oppression of the time

Broken my canoes’ boards

On my cottage windows,

Dust of life, here and there

Now, the old boats abandoned

On the side of the town


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It’s not cold outside, listen to me!

No need to wear your -35 boots,

And your waterproof, multilayer coat

No need to wear the wool gloves and toque*


When snowflakes come down,

And crawling blowers wake you up

Early in the morning shocked

It doesn’t mean that is cold outside!


People smoke by breathing out

Buses disappear to blurring eyes

Rub your hands, you’ll feel better

It’s just winter. Don’t blame it on cold!


Funny you! A few degrees below zero

Not in Centigrade but in Fahrenheit!

Hibernation is better that buying

That ski suit for an arm and a leg


You need more your cellphone and credit cards

Than this jacket and scarf and earmuffs

Though, I agree with hot coffee in every season


Damn! Look at my trembling hands!

I already turned on the heat

Give me that fucking blanket before you leave!               


*Canadian version of “Beanie”


I know the men who wear lopsided hat

And talk without letup, upside down vampire bat

Riding the carousel, trapped in the cycle

No vision and no mission but lost in their possessions


I know the women whose hands are too short

To gather the dates of tall, beheaded-palms on the grove

But they wear long-sleeves, aristocratic dresses

And bless the empty tablecloths by whispering holly verses


I know the kids who grow up fast without puberty

And young ones living on the long street of poverty

They never know the taste of French kiss,

Miss the pleasure of love embrace, and dismiss


I lived among them accused and charged to peck

All the philosophy and logic trees, a poor woodpecker

That never accommodates in the holes it makes

Still I think how they bear with lots of paradox in

The hodgepodge, sloppy living room of their mind

I ran away one night and left them unorganized!