Passion Poetry

A thought for today:

“Love is a great power, but it takes power to have pure love”

My passion for poetry started at a very young age. I listened to my dad recite Farsi poems before even knowing my ABC’s. The flow was natural to his tong since his grandfather from his mom’s side was a renowned Persian poet by the name of Dr. Anwari, and his aunt from his father’s side was a discreet poet, in a closed circle Q8i woman society.

A question might pop to mind is why a Q8i woman, with an Arabic/Farsi upbringing writes her poetry in English?

Arabic language is very rich indeed, yet it is very difficult to comprehend when your first tong is not Arabic.

It seems to me that all languages in the world have certain rules to follow except Arabic; anything can do, and yet nothing can do.

Now back to the reasons behind my writing poetry in English language; I guess my English education afterwards surmounted the little Arabic I have learned.

But I always retain this passion for the Arabic poetry, although it is very hard for me to fully understand and appreciate it, I almost always need an interpreter. Same goes to the Farsi poetry; I love to read Farsi poems, yet can’t easily grasp the meaning.

I guess Eastern poetry holds a mysterious air; an air of a multiple meaning in each and every word alone, let alone strange adjectives used and expertly put together, then what do you get at the end when you do digest it? ….. A RHYMING MASTERPIECE.

Ok may be you have guessed it; my education is English, but my poems are very much Eastern; affected by it, molded in it, and therefore styled unconsciously through it.

A reader needs to ponder, reflect, relate, and deeply analyze to get the true meaning and that’s the beauty of the Eastern poetry..

To me poetry has to rhyme, if it didn’t, then in my terms it is not poetry. And although I find free style poetry very appealing, it hardly grabs my attention.

I need to hear the tempo, to dance with the music, to soar with the flow, and finally to be smashed with feelings.

You say I’m from the old school? …. damn right I am

Let me Discover YouLet me sail in thy chest

I’m fetching eternal rest

In your folds forget the rest

Count the goose bumps as they bud

With my lips I’ll row through

My hands can be a help too

My cheeks would hear the tempo

Rising with your boiling blood

Let me dive in thy eyes

For black pearls to analyze

As they glow and crystallize

The perfect gem ever caught the eye

Let me taste thy lip’s flavor

A blend of sweet and sour

Discharging electrical power,

And mesmerizing you and I

Let me examine thy passion

when you wrap me in such a fashion

That past, present, and future mix

And death becomes the ultimate bless

Reflections, by: Ione Citrin