in your absence, i am judging myself with
my enemy and again the witnesses caught me red-handed
every now and then thinking about you or staring at your
faded black and white photo /full of
to be the pen in your hand
caress me as if stroking the paper smoothly
if i were a poem/read me
if i were a tea-cup / fill me up
hold by my slim waist
and drink
sow my seeds at the new moon
i\'m a fertile soil
if you wish me flourish and grow
especially plant me during the first and the
second quarter
throughout the dark moon/harvest me
before
Lonely summer poet
in the apple of your eyes
had drunk the sea
bathed on the shores of
your lips
to my suffering
your shoulder
were a port for me
in the stormy weather
have found
my arrack/wine
my straw…
my soil/green…
my sorrow
longing/you
one lost rose bud/i
the wild flower…
i the sin/day and flood
even if it’s a dream
when greeting the morning
seeing you
tells
don\'t be offended
Hey!Look
come silently
in the deep red darkness of my dream
don’t be offended
when the cool hours are asleep
in the clear white morning
don\'t be offended
try
i need to go on the balcony
my balcony faces the rear side of the Randisbourne gardens
that is my boredom/
the night has collected its
junk/trash and traps…
migrating slowly...
three words
in the apple of your eyes
had drunk the sea
bathed on the shores of
your lips
to my suffering
your shoulder
were a port for me
in the stormy weather
have found refuge
and cooled
in the
i’d borrowed the sparkling light
from his eyes
why?…
should i keep it? it’s so hurtful
to embrace him with his poetry
but his broken heart
suffered so many times…
every single soul
what love meant?/to him
even he doubted his deceptions and seductions
they were still his…
the day he painted her
his brush had been lucky
God knows how many times?
He had captured
the woman who gave me life
every time I think of her
struggling to remember/her face
eyes full of sorrow
beauty must have distorted
thy laughter/ echoes in my ears
how was i clinging to
in the apple of your eyes
had drunk the sea
bathed on the shores of
your lips
to my suffering
your shoulder
were a port for me
in the stormy weather
have found refuge
and cooled
in the
Actor; as if
questioning the world
its obvious his pretending
and also wrongly memorised love
in his face entrusted rejoinder
his role its not a role ha…
the words; used-up zero
as used
separation remained hung
faces reappeared
september in their eyes
pouring rain
if traces were left
who’s to blame
crazily blowing wind
the disaster of the flood
if traces were
there\'s two kind of people
one is who have experienced the death
the other is who are still living with it
the deceased...
are young
and are the children...
love you child who ever you are
as
if i had dwelled on tomorrow
or assembled yesterday
you've got the
scream/time
the wind is the toy of the petulant and dry cold
ashes don't stay in the ash-tray
i am not looking for
when i wanted to come
my hands
longing to embrace
my feet
when missing you wanted to look
my back
when i wanted to talk, your finger
gestured your lips
what if i want to kiss you?
Günsel
this morning I didn’t think about you darling…
i’ve done nothing…
how does a snowdrop pierces the snow,
and does fennel suffer when presenting her smell,
does the touch of my tongue, hurt
i am Athena’s bird
in the sky
one colourful band
eyes are overcast/cloud
white as snow erasing the sorrow on faces
i am the moon
and here to make all uncertain dreams come true….
hope,
we have known each other long enough
how strange
i don’t think, if he comes in many disguises…
i don’t really know
his face/curiously unlined
he looks at my letter with open curiosity
his
its sword in hand
the night
is approaching me
on my mind...
the grey hair of my battle
and my loneliness
it’s the lovesick season
the pen fell in love with the paper
the agony on my
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