![]() Soodabeh Saeidnia lives in NYC but originally is Persian. She got her Pharm D and Ph.D. of Pharmacognosy and has worked as a researcher, assistant and associate professor in the Kyoto University (Japan), TUMS (Iran) and University of Saskatchewan (Canada). She is interested in English literature and poetry, and has published a collection of her poems, Words for myself, in Farsi. Her poems have been published/accepted in American magazines/literary journals like “Squawk Back”, “Great Weather for Media”, “Indiana Voice Journal”, “Sisyphus Quarterly”, “Paradox”, “TimBookTu”, “Bobbling of the Irrational”, “SPINE”, “American Writers Journal”, “Tuck Magazine”, “La Libertad”, “Tiny Poetry”, “The Pen”, “352 degrees”, and PoetryNation. A number of her poems have been printed in the books “Where the Mind Dwells” and “American Poet” by Eber & Wein Publishing as well as “Moonlight Dreamers of Yellow Haze” by Johnson Publications and Artistic. The first collection of her contemporary poems “Street of the Ginkgo Trees” is now on Amazon. She is also the editor of a poetry anthology,"Voice of Monarch Butterflies" (Middle Eastern anthology by 10 poets from Ganges to Nile), that is alive on Amazon. Her micro-poems are available through her Twitter @SSaeidnia. Too Late Before my lips feel the cool, calmness Before my mouth tries the sweet taste Before my chest senses the warm embrace Before my soul relaxes in the love resorts Before my eyes surf on the passion waves Before my box receives the peaceful letters Your memory violated my mind Apple Fruits of an Old Oak I sleep with the sun at nights and with the moon at days I swim in the desert and walk inside the deep oceans I am silent, when I’m supposed to scream and start crying, when I’m supposed to be silent I look at the mirror from the mercury-layer and at the rainbow from behind a dusty glass I give my heart to the water and my flowers to the wind I count the time by watching the moldy bread and bake my bread in transition of time I dress up the birds with my tablecloth and caress the head of butterflies I make my home by wood of apple trees and pick apples from an old oak Whose magic created me? and who brought me to this wonderland? Micro-poems #1 You stole my heart the day you read your poem and you stole my poem the day you read my heart Now you have everything belongs to me but me #2 Welcome to my page It's quite white Don't bother your pen to ink a poem on it as the waves of my chaos remove what you write and the page remains always bright #3 Night was first a cold, bitter coffee, until granules of stars poured and made it a hot, sweet midnight
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