A Woman Defined

Art & Culture by Mahvash Mossaed

Poetry Excerpts from A Woman Defined and My Painted Dreams

August 31, 2012

The following poems are from my books: A Woman Defined and My Painted Dreams. Both books can be ordered at Amazon.

hide and seek

I got lost in the dark on purpose so I can find me.
It was a game I played alone.
There was pleasure, there was pain and passion.
And there was fear and death and religion
Where I had to look for God in hiding,
And I had to look for me in hiding,
And where love had to find me

I lost myself in the dark just to fall in love with life
And become its captured prisoner, and not ever want to leave its premises.
And in the midst of all my confusion I new life is a stream,
Taking me with its current towards a river that at the end will swallow me.

I lost myself in the dark.


the iron heart

You cut me and you forgot to sew me up.
You didn’t even disinfect and bandage my wound!
You coldly walked out of my room,
Saying, “Bleed …bleed, my love!
Bleed to live, not to die, of love.”

Then I bled, all I could.
That’s how I learned to survive my wound.

When your roses arrived in an iron box,
Next to a time bomb,
I walked out.
For then I was certain
You loved me for me, as well as my pain.
You loved me for my wound, as well as my scar.

I walked out, for this time
I was convinced I would be fine.



I’ll tell you the secret,
Why I’m so desperately lost and cannot be found.
I was born in a sunny day in a small garden
From the seed of a flower.
The garden had no walls—
I had no anger and no barriers.
But I was restless and unsure,
So I borrowed a body and I borrowed a soul
And walked out of the garden to look for my true nature.
That’s how I came to be lost,
For now I am neither man nor flower


Waiting for God

I am practicing to have no hunger
Just so that I can look attractive to God.
I am digitally connected to his electron
While I try to understand
The silent language of the trees,
While I try to be resistant to Earth’s gravity.

But why do I feel so cold and naked
With this connection in His presence?

In the hope that my poems cover me up and keep me warm,
I write them on the back of the raindrops.
I write them on the stem of the jasmines.
I write them on the fragrance of the garden in the spring.

Then I sit in silence,
Listening to the moon light berating,
Listening to the garden growing.
I listen silently,
While I patiently wait for God.


Without a Body

There was neither love nor hate.
There was only emptiness and silence,
And we could taste the emptiness in the silence.
We could see the seed grow inside a seed.
We could see the soul of a drop of water.
We could hear the sense of touch in a breeze.
We could hear the sense of smell in the flowers.
We could float from birth to death.
Yet, we were all without a body.
We were all without a mouth,
Without eyes, without voice.

We were only ghosts in heaven.

And the mountains were our bones,
The wind was our breath,
The rivers were our tears.

We were without death.
We were a perfect and complete universe
Within a universe.
We were ghosts in heaven.

Tags: , , , ,

Posted in Mahvash Mossaed, Poetry |

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Please type the characters of this captcha image in the input box

Please type the characters of this captcha image in the input box