She Is Pear Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

She Is Pear



She is pear

Script is with me.
Rough paper, ink green.

Years are gone…
But still…

Like her hair in the wind
Cloud’s line, floating
Horizontal, hang behind
In dreams; she on run

Memories are mirror
They remind.

His poem in that time
The rule of, Taliban
In Kabul
Poets were old, and young
He had guts.

“She sits down
Her body, makes a pear.”

How could he?
Even thought is fear.
Burns kebab, in flame.
Desert’s night, cold shiver.

Monday, April 20, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: romantic
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
I was in Kabul, in 1999...and in a way, was forced to attend some poetic gathering. A poet...in that rough time of Taliban...had the sexiest poem I could ever dream of...a woman, bare-but, sitting and looking like a pear. I wonder how he dared writing such a poem. I asked him for the script and he gave it to me...
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