Friday, January 11, 2013

Forough Farrokhzad

I believe in being a poet in all moments of life. Being a poet means being human. I know some poets whose daily behavior has nothing to do with their poetry. In other words, they are only poets when they wrote poetry. Then it is finished and they turn into greedy, indulgent, oppressive, shortsighted, miserable, and envious people. Well, I cannot believe their poems.
~ Forough Farrokhzad, Four Interviews


Forough Farrokhzad
(January 5, 1935—February 13, 1967)

An excerpt from Window
by Forough Farrokhzad

...I arrive from beneath roots of carnivorous trees,
And my mind is still filled -with the fearful cries of dried butterflies-
under weighty volumes of pale, aged books.

When my trust was hung-
from the frail justice line of this town,
And in the streets, they were cutting off the head of my torch,
When they blind-folded the innocent eyes of my love,
When fresh blood erupted from all veins of my shaking dreams,
And when my life was nothing-
but the regular chant of a Grandfather clock,
I realized that I had to love,
I had to love madly.


Renee is hosting the Poetry Friday round-up at No Water River.

My grandmother Helen passed away Wednesday night -- here's a post I shared about her earlier.

13 comments:

Linda at teacherdance said...

I'm sorry about your grandmother, Tabatha. I went back to read your post-what a lovely piece for her. It's so hard to say goodbye to our sweet family members. I don't have many of that generation left, and I miss them, like I see that you will miss her. The poem from Forough Farrokhzad is filled with such stark images, but there is hope at the end, isn't there? Thank you!

jama said...

So sorry to hear about your grandmother, T. I remember your lovely post about her last year. I know all her gifts will continue to live on in you.

Today's poet (wish I could pronounce her name) -- excellent quote, and through the excerpt I feel the resilience of the human spirit.

Myra Garces-Bacsal from GatheringBooks said...

I send you love and light across the miles - hoping that they would serve like fairies that would tend to your grief and loss. Thank you too for introducing us yet again to another poet whom I have only heard of now. Such powerful striking words - and the thought that poetry is a way of being, not an occupation, not a suit that one wears to the office each day - but is the very fabric of one's being - how bold and how true. *Hugs*

Matt Forrest Esenwine said...

I'm sorry to hear about your grandmother...based on your previous post, she obviously gave so much to you, I'm sure she is missed. But what a wonderful way to keep her memory alive - by continuing on with your writing, with her in yourt heart. A touching poem from Ms. Farrokhzad, to...when one considers the life women lead there, it becomes all the more striking.

Bridget Magee said...

Wow, powerful poetry by Forough Farrokhzad. Thank you for sharing her words...and I'm sorry for your loss.

Robyn Hood Black said...

Sending warmest thoughts to you and your family, Tabatha.

Thanks for sharing this post today - a haunting, powerful piece.

skanny17 said...

I was very moved by your post about your grandmother and what she taught you and gave you. Smiles, dandelions, food with love, general nourishment with love. The butterflies photo is lovely. One of my students told me her family's belief. When someone dies, it is their turn to paint the sky. If you look at the sunset after they are gone you can figure out their favorite colors. God gives each one of us the chance to put beauty into the world when we get to paint the sky. Watch the next sunset and you may see your grandmother smiling down on you. Thank you for your post today. Janet F.

Violet N. said...

So sorry to hear about the passing of your grandmother, Tabatha. I loved your tribute to her, and that you said those things before she died!

I'm leaving here with that tribute together with the words of Forough's quote in my head. Lots to think about...

Mary Lee said...

I think you must be the kind of poet Forough Farrokhzad was -- a poet in every moment and thought and deed. Your blog is a glimpse of this. I work at it, and will continue to, but I fall way short.

Condolences on the passing of your grandmother. I love the story Janet told -- may she paint the sky for you, as she painted your life!

Ruth said...

I'm so sorry you lost your grandmother. I think Mary Lee is right about you!

Diane Mayr said...

My thoughts are with you today, Tabatha.

Tabatha said...

Thank you for all your warm words. I am not feeling very communicative, myself. I think I will follow Sara Teasdale's poetic advice and "gather myself into my self again,
I shall take my scattered selves and make them one.
I shall fuse them into a polished crystal ball
Where I can see the moon and the flashing sun." In the meantime, thank you for your support.

Tara @ A Teaching Life said...

Thinking of you, Tabatha...your post of last March was especially poignant to re-read today. I love the fierceness of the poem you shared, as well as the wise words of Sara Teasdale which you have chosen to take comfort in.