Water Words Not Warfare

Water Words Not Warfare
by Azadeh Azad

what a twisted time
water is thirsty
and words are soundless
pockets of void repeated

to the point of frenzy
do you discern the language
of water? what does awareness
mean? a followed insight?

a post-modern fickleness
written in the rented minutes
of a room in the glass tower
of powers by a candle of oil?

what does truth convey
coming from the mouth
of a banker who invests in
the warfare enterprise?

are your long-held dreams
a breath of compassion?
or a fancy field hidden
from what we fear?

here leeches of future
play chess with me on
the impasse of my random
fields of black gold

I stare without moving
my queen cornered by my pawns
their king, intrigued, leaps
my black elephant in the room 

I’m a timid chess player
at twisted times when
water is thirsty and words
are soundless pockets of void

on the Island of Utopia
where people rule
over lexicon of life
wetness returns to water.


more from Azadeh Azad
Manoucher Avaznia


by Manoucher Avaznia on

A beautiful piece.


And then,

Famine dried the fertile eyes of the sky,

And sun drained the sources of life,

And springs in mountains dried,

And rivers in plains died

And desires were buried

In the hearts of the fish.


And no stream strove to reach oceans,

And ancient roots of poem dried,

And spirit of growth and rebuilding doomed,

And no one thought of ancient roots,

And no one cared about the truth

And the way it spread in time.


And no one bothered about

Repairing conduits to lead

The essence of life

Over far and parched plains

To the orchards of pomegranates

Before they opened

The red thirst of their mouths

For the last drops of moisture,




No one recalled what had vanished

Was a poet's heart

To rain upon remnants of old pastures

Through a par of fertile eyes

To breathe a new life

To the browned face

Of roots.