SOODABEH SAEIDNIA - POEMS

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