poetryrepairs #238 v17.06:070

FERESHTEH SHOLEVAR : Cock Fighting
FERESHTEH SHOLEVAR : The Mourner

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FERESHTEH SHOLEVAR
Cock Fighting 

The red-faced master of the ring with eyes like marbles in their sockets is standing on the edge of the world calls out to spectators; “Come people and witness the most exciting fight of all times.” Some may think he is the master of winnings some may think he is the master of cock fighting. Red-headed cocks are let into the cockpit one black, one white each majestic its own way bellies are shaved to ease the tearing of one’s flesh with speared nails and sharpened beaks each shriek a different pitch. Savage shouts of praising tear the air; “Come on, peck him to death. kill him. Kill him.” Blood stains black and white feathers that fly widely in the air. Spectators catch them for souvenirs. Bets are won; silver coins travel from palm to palm. One cock remains in the ring with a pierced belly and an eye still hanging out of its socket. The other cock is jumping up and down with his broken neck hanging down. The master is clapping his hands listening to the jingles of the silver coins.

poetryrepairs #238 v17.06:070





FERESHTEH SHOLEVAR
The Mourner 

Someone dies, someone cries the mourner is called in he is paid well to mourn and glorify the dead. He comes, his head wrapped in a black turban, his body under a camel brown Aba; he smells of rosewater. He sits and his eyes lure dark shadows his fingers roam through dark green rosary. He laments for the holy dead from the desert times he travels back into the past through parables and fables repeatedly retold and re-enforced. His voice imitates tunes of sorrows, His words are memorized, polished, didactic He cries tearlessly and tediously: “Sacrifice your dead and living for the holy butchered Imams and you will not walk over the way of sorrows.” He moans: “Your lost ones will sleep in the garden of stones only to wake up among Houris and Peris. Suffer and give up bodily pleasures Remember, death walks along the meadows and the bird dies in its flight.”

poetryrepairs #238 v17.06:070






   




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FERESHTEH SHOLEVAR was born and raised in Tehran where she studied foreign languages. She both taught and worked as a translator in Tehran.

FERESHTEH SHOLEVAR immigrated to Germany and then USA in 1978. She received a Master’s degree in Creative Writing at Rosemont College, Pa. She has written six books of poetry and a novel.


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