Stalin (poem) by Muhammad A. Al Mahdi on AuthorsDen

Stalin
by Muhammad A. Al Mahdi → (All Poetry by Muhammad A. Al Mahdi)
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Although you mean well, Arjuna Your sorrow is sheer delusion. Wise men do not grieve For the dead or for the living. (Bhagavatgita) *When fire was born* *Under crimson dark skies* *The hand of an eon's iron grasp seized the dawn* *To descend upon dazzled whizzing mortal eyes* *In a day* *Time drew blood* *Waves smashed the shore* *One day's birth agony* *Ormazd sang on the shores of the East* *A mountain hawk sighed* *On its way to the sun* *Burned by its own rays* *A fireball cast* *Into firmament's vastness* *Yaar, you have torn my flesh to pieces* *When your soul's fire bird settled* *On the wrist of my hand* *In the orchards by the vineyards* *Our hearts got drunk and cried blood* *O God! If love could revive the dead* *Or the living* *Or alter my fate* *Or change the course of the stars* *With Bacchantic tears memory's translucid glow* *Sweetened the dusk with the light-winged* *Sanguine voice* *Of this sanguinary tamada* *Enveloped in the leopard skin mantle* *Of old* *In the sleeping rain of ages past* *On the tops of Caucasus mountains* *I saw, miragelike* *The two shores of your brows* *Like Amu Darya and Syr Darya* *Lo, Dshingiz Khan died in the way of a mortal* *As did Jahangir, Alamgir and Babur* *And so died Ahnaton,* *Aristotle and Mansur* *Our shadows have left for a world* *Where love and hatred are one* *Berikatsi vaar* *(I have grown old)* *This is said* *About us* *As the sea flows* *In quiet, steady waves* *From shore on to shore* *Let friend and foe rejoice* *We have come of age* *And learnt to perish* *In the end there's one victor alone* *As the angel of death speaks his word* *And history obeys* *For the past belongs to God* *And so* *Do future and present withal* *HE alters them at will* *And we,* *Leaves in the seasons,* *Fall* notes: a tamada is a master of ceremony at traditional gatherings and festivals in Georgia "Berikatsi vaar" means : I have grown old in Khartuli, Stalin's native language which is one of the oldest surviving languages in the Near East. The phrase is also aliterates to a Georgian song. As Stalin's native Georgia is a former province of Iran, I have allowed myself to make occasional use of metaphors related to Indo-Iranian culture.

Reviewed by Aberjhani

Reviewed on August 30, 2005

What an exquisite roaring volcano of a poem this STALIN is, exploding with the lava of history and the silken boom of myth, and taking such commanding form beneath the unshaking hand of a humble prophet-poet. In philosophical depth, surety of structure, and strength of spiritual vision, your work continues to grow in astoundingly beautiful ways.
Aberjhani

Reviewed by Regis Auffray

Reviewed on July 19, 2005

Thank you for sharing this wisdom-filled poetic offering, Mahdi. Love and peace to you. Regis

Reviewed by Karen Lynn Vidra, The Texas Tornado

Reviewed on May 17, 2005

wonderful write, muhammad! well done!

(((HUGS))) and much love, your friend in america, karen lynn in texas. :D

Reviewed by E T Waldron

You write with a powerful and beautiful pen Mahdi!

Alrisha

Reviewed by Abdi-Noor Mohamed (Eagle Of Hope)

Beautiful words of wisdom. Man shall understand truth only when he falls like leaves of the season. Thanks for this offering.