Wendy,the light my sky

Wendy, the Light in My Sky

Wendy—
your name floats
like a melody through my mind,
soft as summer rain
on a city that never sleeps.

Your smile—
the kind that makes clocks pause,
makes the moon lean closer,
just to catch a glimpse.

I didn’t mean to fall—
but there you were,
eyes like galaxies
pulling me in
without gravity,
without warning.

You’re not just beautiful—
you’re the poem
I didn’t know I was writing
with every breath I took
before I met you.

And now—
even silence feels like music
when you’re near.
Even the stars seem jealous
of how bright you make my world.

Wendy,
if love has a shape,
it’s your name
written across my heart.

#behnammohtarami #

Queen

The queen, I love you; What do I do?

My utterly in the fire; What do I do?

Gave your heart off and turned off

My flame in my request; What do I do?

For the girls of my land ,iran

For the girls of my land, Iran

O girls who recognize the sun from the veil of clouds

You who send your voice with the breeze and keep your smile alive from the shadows

Know: No winter will stay forever, no night is unnecessary.

You are a bright generation; The heirs of the women who stood in the heart of history built, fought, and were never off.

The world may be late, but you are sooner than you think,

You will be the scene of new days.

Iranian girls,

Remember that freedom is born out of hope.

And hope, in your heart.

Will definitely go this black,

And the whiteness of awakening, brightness, and life,

It will take place.

Keep your eyes open, don't hide your voices,

That the future of you.

#behnammohtarami#

Wolf s however

Wolf's however

The wind blows from the south, with the smell of sea salt and burnt soil. The night was darker than ever. In the heart of the silent mountains of the port, the sound of howling was drawn; The howl was not hungry from the hungry wolf, but the eyes ambushed.

The wolves had come, from the distant lands, across the seas. They were named after civilization, but their teeth smelled blood. One had a crown, the other with a three -color flag, and one in the hand and the gun in the hand.

On Yalda Night, the smiles of the smiles with a cup in the hand sent a message:
"You're a Yalda Night, Lovely ..."
And the wolves began to stir the fire, to mention.

The assassination of the shadow, the youth fell into the blood, and their laughing sound was turned off. The fire was torn under the ashes. The port remained awake, but the quiet villages sat blood.

They came, not for peace, nor for democracy. They had come for the treasure, to grab the table that the children of the soil had spread with sweat and life.
They wanted to bury Mossadegh's memory, again to put a "self" face on the throne of power, but with alien hands.

Yes, the wolf's however is not off,
Because Iran's rich resources
This land of thousands of stories and a thousand wounds,
Wolves forcing the wolves to come together
Howling.
And in the dark, strangle the children of Iran ...#

Behna mohtarami#e#

King s woman

King's woman

At a time when World War II shakes European soil, an aristocratic girl from Britain's Sweetheart, quietly and in silence, played power chess. His name was Pamela. A girl with penetrating eyes, a shrewd heart, and ambitious nature. He had come to rewrite history from the scenes of femininity and love.

Pamela chose her first bead carefully: Randolph Churchill, son of Winston Churchill. Not only entered the family of the Great Prime Minister, but from the beginning he showed that he was not only a "lady of the house". She was a woman with a larger plan: becoming a woman who made world decisions in her arms.

When Randolph plunged into the gambling and irresponsible swamp, Pamela separated. But not for loneliness, but for entering the ring of men who were key to the gates of power.

She abducted the heart of Gianni Annie; The heir to the Fiat Empire, the man who rotates the Italian economy. Then it came Prince Ali Khan's turn; A princess with aristocracy in the veins and global influence. Eli Rothschild, the heir to the Jewish banking family, was also caught in the game's strands. Every relationship was a step towards more influence.

He was called "mistress", but in fact, he was a blessed politician, unattractive but passionate. Those who were with him made world decisions. Even the Greek billionaire Aristotle Onassis, who had only a few women in the world were able to conquer their minds and wealth, fell into Pamela.

Pamela was not a woman of stories; She was a woman who wrote stories.

Liland Hayd, a producer of Broadway, married to enter the media world. And finally, he married the man who opened the gates of American politics, Airl Harman, the governor and powerful US diplomat.

She was now a woman with an American passport, an English heart and global influence.

During the presidency of Bill Clinton, he received the reward of all years: became the US ambassador to France. Not because of the evidence, not because of the party, but because she was a woman who knew how to force men in the world to obey. He was no longer a mistress, he was a monarch woman.

When the world died in Paris in year 2, the world lost one of its clever beads. Pamela was buried in the tomb of his wife, but his name will remain in the history of politics as a female king.

#behnammohtarami#

The blacke shorts you wear

The black shorts you wear

The black shorts you wear,
At night, you were breathing slower.
The moon wouldn't go through the window,
So as not to make the eye
To that silent curvature of your temptation.

Remember?
With your smile, the coffee does not stay bitter,
And your hands
Like my unfinished poems
There was always a place between dream and reality.

Black shorts
Not just a fabric
Rather, the flag of peace after my wars.
Dressed and I gave up,
Unnecessary from words,
No excuses.

Now,
Years of years,
But when I found it in the last drawer
Breathe
It was as if the smell was still left.
And your laughter, which brightened the night.

The black shorts you wear,
The world was as if it were a better place.
Where love
It was still possible.

#Behnammohtarami#

Allahu AKbar

"Allahu Akbar"

Allahu Akbar, the dawn's fierce cry,
A sword of truth, beneath the sky.
From golden domes to desert sand,
This cry shakes empires, takes a stand.

Trump in his tower, trembling tight,
The echo of faith, a deadly might.
He felt the rumble deep within,
A quake of justice, burning sin.

No bomb, no coin, nor army’s might,
But Allah’s name brings forth the fight.
In every heart, in every prayer,
His power grows, the tyrants fear.

الله‌اکبر

الله‌اکبر، فریاد صبح‌گاه،
شمشیری از حق، بر سر هر چاه.
از گنبد زرین تا دشت بیابان،
این بانگ، لرزانَد کاخ‌های شیطان.

ترامپ در برجش لرزید از ترس،
صدای ایمان، سلاحی ز مرس.
دلش لرزید از تکان‌های زمین،
گواهی بر ظلم، بر آتش و کین.

نه بمب، نه زر، نه ارتشِ جنگ،
بلکه نام خداست که می‌شکند سنگ.
در هر دل، در هر نماز و دعا،
قدرتش می‌روید، ترس از خدا.

#behnammohtarami#
وبلاگ پیشخوان۱۰۶۷

الله‌اکبر

الله‌اکبر، فریاد صبح است،
تیغی‌ست بر ظلم، همچون سرب داغ است.
از گنبد زرّین تا خاک بیابان،
این بانگ حق، لرزانَد هر شیطان.

آمد صدایی از دل مؤمن،
لرزید عالم، خاموش شد دشمن.
در کاخ سفید، سایه فتاد،
ترس از دل کفر، چون آذر بر باد.

ترامپ، آن مغرور زمان،
دید ارتعاشی در استخوان.
چشمش به شرق افتاد، هراسان،
چون شیر خشمگین از ایرانستان!

الله‌اکبر، فتح دلیران،
بر سنگ می‌کوبد نام ستمگران.
نه بمب، نه زر، نه ارتش کین،
بلکه فریادی‌ست از دل زمین.

#بهنام_محترمی#در پی الله اکبر حضار در کنفرانس ترامپ وافتادن لرزه وفرارش#سروده شده است#وبلاگ پیشخوان ۱۰۶۷#

A romantic gas

A romantic gas

In a nuisance night in a village in Serbia, where the sound of violin and the foam of guests filled the wedding night, everyone was waiting for a special moment.
The groom bent over to the bride with a flowering species of shame and taste. The bride smiled, and her friends jokingly said:
"Love Gas!"

The guests stared into the middle of the hall with enthusiasm. The groom, according to an old official, began to launch a piece of the bride's underwear with a tooth - they laughed, applauded, and the grandmothers said:
"God bless you, the old custom!"

At first glance, this custom may be strange to some, but for the people of Bulgaria, Albania, Bosnia, Montenegro, Serbia, North Macedonia and some areas of Greece, this part of Shadieh, part of a culture that begins with joke and intimacy.

#behnammohtarami#

Queen

Isn't the queen? What tank, if not a crown on his head,
My heart is the king's bed and he is sitting in the cut.
Is a queen not from gold and jewelry, but cute,
That the heart has been kidnapped with silence.

#behnammohtarami#

Maybe not the queen for you,

But for my heart,

Made the crown itself,

My heart is a monarchy. "

Or easier and tighter:

"Being queen is not to be positioned,

It is romantic.

And you can't judge my eyes.

A queen

Because the thrill of the bright, at the peak of the joke

In the wedding dress, Chu Spring

Fascinating

Every look, a bite of love

Every step, a story of perfection

In his presence, the time of standing

The moon is lost in that jam

#behnammhtarami#

My Beautiful one

My Beautiful One
When I see you, time stands still,
The world grows quiet, the air turns still.
Your eyes—like stars—light up my skies,
With every smile, a thousand sighs.

Your voice, a song I long to hear,
It draws me close, it pulls me near.
In every dream, in every prayer,
My heart finds you waiting there.

زیبای من
چون تو را بینم، زمان آرام می‌گیرد،
جهان خاموش و هوا بی‌صدا می‌گردد.
چشمانت، چون اختران، آسمانم را روشن می‌کند،
با هر لبخندت، هزار آه از دل برمی‌خیزد.

صدایت، نغمه‌ای‌ست که همیشه آرزوی شنیدنش را دارم،
مرا به سوی خود می‌کشاند، نزدیک‌تر و نزدیک‌تر.
در هر خواب، در هر نیایش،
دل من تو را می‌یابد، همان‌جا، در انتظار.

#behnammohtarami#

بهنام محترمی#وبلاگ پیشخوان۱۰۶۷#

To yasmin

To Yasmin

In black you shine, a moonless night,
A deadly beauty, fierce and bright.
With every glance, my soul you claim,
Your lovely smile—a burning flame.

You're drop-dead gorgeous, that's no lie,
With lips that steal a lover's sigh.
Oh, Yasmin, when you pass me by,
My aching heart begins to cry.

You're lovely, lethal, sweetly sly—
My breath escapes, I almost die.

یاسمین

با لباس سیاه می‌درخشی، مثل شب بی‌ماه،
زیبایی‌ات کشنده‌ست، تیز و درخشان.
با هر نگاهت، روحم رو می‌دزدی،
لبخند قشنگت، یه شعله‌ی سوزانه‌ست.

خوشگل و جان‌درآری، اینو نمیشه انکار کرد،
لب‌هات آه از دل عاشق بیرون می‌کشه.
یاسمین، وقتی از کنارم رد می‌شی،
قلبم از درد عشق فریاد می‌زنه.

لطیفی، کشنده‌ای، با نگاهی شیرین—
نفسم بند میاد، انگار دارم می‌میرم.

#behnammohtarami#
blogfa.mohtarami#behnam mohtarami#