Zeynep Çiçek: Favorites

Nov 2018 Zeynep Çiçek

Sleep

Nov 2018 Zeynep Çiçek

Ali Ashraf

Sleep

does the man fear
that he might disappear?
I have gone there
to the unknown
when the ringed bell rings
in the drowsy lane of desire
my chest torn apart
my heart entrapped
taken beyond heavens
through the holy gates
of sweet slumber
that much I do remember
the rest I have forgotten

© Ali Ashraf

#sleep

Nov 2018 Zeynep Çiçek

Someone stole my color

Nov 2018 Zeynep Çiçek

Alex B

Someone stole my color

Someone stole my color
And threw it to the wind
Scattered like ashes
I don’t know if I’ll ever find it

Someone stole my color
From the face I know so well
I saw it in the cotton candy clouds
And the teal ocean swell

Someone stole my color
I guess that’s where it went
The world looks so much brighter
Like something heaven-sent

Someone stole my color
And that’s what no one knows
Depression isn’t black
It’s the color of a rose

It’s the light orange in a sunset
And the yellow of a peach
Light blue, my favorite color
So simply out of reach

Purple like my favorite eyeshadow
No, lavender, I’d guess you’d say
And my favorite music artist
Although he has passed away

Someone stole my color
Now everything’s too bright
I suppose sometimes darkness
Isn’t the opposite of light

Someone stole my color
So I’ll wear grey and black
As if in mourning
Until I get it back

Nov 2018 Zeynep Çiçek

Rain

Nov 2018 Zeynep Çiçek

Shel Silverstein

Rain

I opened my eyes
And looked up at the rain,
And it dripped in my head
And flowed into my brain,
And all that I hear as I lie in my bed
Is the slishity-slosh of the rain in my head.

I step very softly,
I walk very slow,
I can't do a handstand--
I might overflow,
So pardon the wild crazy thing I just said--
I'm just not the same since there's rain in my head.

Nov 2018 Zeynep Çiçek

Orpheus

Nov 2018 Zeynep Çiçek

William Shakespeare

Orpheus

Orpheus with his lute made trees
And the mountain tops that freeze
  Bow themselves when he did sing:
To his music plants and flowers
Ever sprung; as sun and showers
  There had made a lasting spring.

Every thing that heard him play,
Even the billows of the sea,
  Hung their heads and then lay by.
In sweet music is such art,
  Killing care and grief of heart
  Fall asleep, or hearing, die.