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MELINA SOBI PAINTER

Pretty Butterfly 


Abide free
fly, fly away
soar
beauty impedes capture
though
armies always try


even in gilded cage
royalty weaves golden deceptions 
internment


dance among the flowers
with shiny memories
clouds filled in mystery


the elegance of the butterfly
wings of the dance
live free

​
never captured


Melina Sobi is a Painter from the USA
​


​And how did she manage to paint me?
The Red Balloon
 
 
the little girl
set free the red balloon
it flew over a certain death
free from the pain
of auction
the little girl
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Posted Oct 3, 2018
Painting: Banksy

“I have found both freedom and safety in my madness; the freedom of loneliness and the safety from being understood, for those who understand us enslave something in us.” 

Kahlil Gibran, The Madman

DEAR MOON

Dedicated to the Dear Moon Project, SpaceX Elon Musk
2am
 
 full moon
           empty heart
                            black coal
                                         underneath
                                                             wistful
                                                                     for yesterdays
                                                                                   burning embers
                                                                                                long extinguished
                                                                                                                  candle wicks
                                                                                                                                   frozen in time
                                                                                                                                              flickers dancing on
                                                                                                                                                          window panes
                                                                                                                                                                              snow
                                                                                                                                                                                  buries me
                                                                                                                                                           snowflakes marry me
                                                                                                                                             will you visit
                                                                                                                               next spring?

                                                                                                        Dawn
 
                                                                                               under water
                                                                                       dancing frogs
                                                              singing songs of death
                                                    funeral marches
                                              ripple over rocks
                                       raining on parades
                            droplets crimson
                     painting goldfish red
                rivers to the sea
          underwater
      grave thoughts
    will you be visiting
me?

The Soul of the Universe


Look
She stares
Do you see?
The face of humanity?
The universe wrapped in two eyes
The devil needs no spies
Humanity has no disguise
This space is empty


yes empty




what should I put here?
Flowers, natures way of composing poetry.

Kei behem nameh midi
(Persian Trilogy)

Kheili khosh geli

 
 
You hold beauty like a beating heart
            Caressing the softness of ethereal love
You sing kindness in your wistful voice
            Smiles hidden, come out to dance with your eyes
You hold the joy of life in your hands
            Softly, you fingers sway in the air spreading happiness
You are like a spring bird. Wings soar in the sky
            Bringing magic like rain onto this scorched soulless earth
You are the Olive tree, bringing shade and comfort
            You wrap your arms around others misery and pain
You radiate joy, compassion and tranquility
            Nighttime tears are just for you
 
 
 
Ou cheshaye ghashangi dareh

 
She is the softness
The smile
The heart
Kindness seeps
Into me
She is the one
Wisdom and sweetness
As she walks by
Smiles interlaced
My sadness hidden
For she is the one
Of another
 
 
 
jeegareto bokhoram

 
 
With knife, I cut out my heart for you
It was yours when your eyes possessed it
With a sword, I cut off my leg
Without you, I shall never dance again
With a rope I shall hang myself
My head was lost at the sight of your loveliness and humility
My thoughts carry me back to when I believed of such things
IN your eyes, I know this to be true
I shall dream of happy days for you
My knife may be bloody
I can not cut out my tongue
For these sweet words of adornment I must confess
I will eat your liver
As you laugh at a strangers poetry
Who dreams of happiness for the other
Notes: The Titles are in Persian, I love mixing languages and cultures inside of poetry, As the world becomes smaller, hopefully we embrace our diversities, and share them as strengths!
Love implodes


 
I see only the brightness and beauty
       Of her eyes
               Golden hairs,
                      I am envious to caress her sun rays
                            As I discover the universe,       
                                  Thrusting into the abscess of loves black hole

 
The void of creation begins again

Note: Graf Museum, Paris France









The Pathway
 
 
Follow the broken path
The heart shall lead you on
Verses shall walk that lonely mistic road
The sun lighting your wandering lustful thoughts
Until the path becomes the poem
Of life

Galmi


Humble angels implore
Kaffirs unsaddle holy alms
If Kings underrate
Hidden Treasures
 
Thieves enter my house
Demanding all my treasures
They left with all my silver and gold
The fools left the treasure behind
My love and children I still hold


Dare to dream
Dare to feel free
Dare to see Ireland
Dare to hold love in your hands
Hands that one day caress the lovers grave
Rain and tears dancing with the music



The voice is magical
The dreams unseen
Open the imagination
Look back to the history
For you shall see
Music and magic
Dancing along with thee
Mankind
 
I have always been a man of action, like most men. Actions, movements, goals, all of the material kind and all for the sake of making life for me and those around me better. They say, be a man of action and have not idle hands. Life is a puzzle, a riddle and the answer is never the same, the second go. So here I now a sit, a man of inaction, never more content, never more accomplished. For even I am sedate and sit on a chair, my hands it seems are never idle. My pen follows my thoughts onto the paper below me.
 
With wisdom I use my endeavors in an efficient manner. I see that not all forward thrust brings us forward, nor does negative thought bring us backwards. Actions filtered via the lense of a philosopher or a drinker of wine, have a sobering effect. We can learn from our own past, from our forefathers sweat, most of all we can learn from the one that held us close to the breast.
 
One hundred thousand men can conquer lands or build tall structures, yet its love that builds the strongest of universal structure. For a building that took a thousand years to erect, can be felled within a second or two. So therefore love that often seems frail and weak, is the infinite strength of all time. It binds us physically in ways we understand not. Past, present and future, time melds with our parents and siblings and offspring. We become one, unified over time.
 
So here I sit a man of inaction, with my pen, the ink flows into a tapestry of thoughts that I hope one young brave man will grasp. For it takes but one man, and one idea, to bring happiness to this point in time. The fragrance of this knowledge is truly the secret of our universe.
Picture






Thought of the Day

Reality is a canvas, and you choose the paints and brushes




Canvas of a Man

Watch a man as he lives one day
And disregard all he claims over the years
That day shall become his palette
Until he stops making claims otherwise
a loVE sTORY
 
 
I loved
She laughed
I cried
She mocked my advances
I lowered my head in shame
She walked out of my life forever
I died

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