A stone rolling herself from a mountain peak
apparently falls. Actually, she seeks the deep
meaning of life. She ends by sinking to become
river rock memorizing the history in her fossil.


This stone has feelings. She feels the tears
of time,and the drops of rain. A river rock is
cheerfully shining in the sunlight , but she's
sad in the shadow of the mountain, melancholic

in the moonlit,and dreamy at night,especially
when the river embraces her with his waves.
This rock remains lonely  in the dried up
riverbed for a very long time to reflect on


her own existence. She is the same stone
cracking,staying in the altar of sacrifice, or
becoming the head of the corner ,as Jesus
said. But, sometimes, she may become a


symbol as a philosopher's stone , or she
may be the top of a pyramid. Regardless of
her structure, she will never bend, and she will
never change her being, because a stone will

always remain a part of the mountain from
which she was detached.

a dream
in a bee
becoming honey

the best cure for loneliness
is to eat it
with honey
moon

When even nothing ever goes my way
I try to keep my goals within my sight.
I hope that they can lead to joy someday,
While overpass these metaphoric night.
Between those crazy things leading to doom,
I am quite melancholic in the gloom.


My life may be infected with the gloom,
When darkness spreads its wicked wings on the way.
In waiting for the approach of next doom,
I am the girl in search for nature's sight.
When jagged rocks pinch and stick me over night,
I search that something lifting me someday.


My faith grows strongly, and I hope someday
Winds of tomorrow will enlight the gloom.
Faith, love and truth will be like stars at night,
Knowledge will be as bright as Milky Way,
As long as rightness will be brought to sight,
And lie will be a sticky bomb of doom.


I utter an impending sense of doom
Like poison killing everything someday
Or icy flowers shaking in wind's sight.
We end with hope, and we begin in gloom,
While we're changing our lives along the way.
We're making sense of all from day to night.


As fears are left unspoken in the night,
We feel this ending as a latest doom.
Sad minds still try to find a living way,
Hoping that they will save themselves someday.
They make important changes in the gloom.
Religious leaders teach Christian sight,


When wisdom is the synonym of sight,
And blind guides are to lead the blinds in night.
Some end with hope others begin in gloom,
Between those sinful acts leading to doom,
Praying to God to save their souls someday.
Against all odds, they try to find their way.

At Siloam, the blind received his sight.
In working faith, the blind could leave his night
God breaks our chains, and brings us out of gloom.

A bird flying
Is a flight in self.

Motion.

It is a movement
In self and
Inward.

It is a cry, too.

I hunt the sound.
I shoot its wing.
I feel that
The air fractures.
Immediately.
The flight is fractured.

I still love you.
For sure, for sure, I still love you.
The feeling slips
In the place,
From where the white bird fell

From the moment
To the eternity.

In that place,
My thought,
Bears your name

And remains

As a red spot on the
Blue sky,
A spot, which could be white.

Forever.

Between eyelids,
Only pain
Can be crushed,
Continuously,
That pain taking another pain
From the agony of death
To death.

Between saints, only
God has
Perfect feelings.
He has our feelings, too.

Imperfect.

We try
To touch Him.

She saw people praying and using the violence in
the name of religion at the same time, while no
religion is preaching violence. She understood that
this kind of violence was too conflictual for peace, and
yet too diplomatic for war. And that violence no  
solution had; nor never none. She thought those
  
people lived in black light having blind eyes not seeing
the reality of life. She had to accept that this wicked
goodness and this pretty badness belong to our reality
so *****-like, vexing and hiding so many victimless crimes.
Suddenly, she realized that she could be a new victim.
She started to run while wondering where her safe place was.
  
She was better than to expect to be caught. She understood
her fear, that fear leading to frightening thoughts, those thoughts
leading to panic, that panic leading to derealization. She looked
around trying to recognize the place. She felt worry because she
couldn't see very well. She searched to make a sword of everything
around, but quickly after that, she thought that the swords are the
  
  
weapons of warriors, but she's not a warrior, she's a victim. She
started to give praise with idle tears, to give praise with wisdom,
to give praise with deep despair. She asked herself if God is there to
hear her, over those ravages of war overwhelmed by the natural
catastrophes and over the ludicrous effect of their transformation
into nothing. She, firstly, believed her religious man was a fighter
  
  
against enemies of God to conclude that he was an enemy of the real
fighters for God. This man was her husband learning in time to beat her
body and to hurt her soul. She saw herself as a little bleeding part of this
world wondering to know if her man is still the man she fell in love with
once, or he's an illusion. She stopped her run to sit on the ground. She
began to pray hoping that God is there to hear her and to bring a new light
  
  
  
to her crying reality. She stayed there to think how much a rose can
describe a flower, how much a flower can describe a woman, and how
much the feminine can describe many things around .She concluded
that no feminine thing can break this life down. She asked herself,
''What can happen to this world in the absolute absence of feminine?''
She found herself an innocent person dreaming at a new world without violence.

We've been in the burning frost o' the highest  
peak to unlock the open secrets,and  to leave  
the sweet sorrow . In my upward fall, I told the  
pure evilness,''I want nothin' more and ne'er  
  
  
again''. I hung the word in that eloquent qu'etness.  
I hung the qu'etness in the air. I found its own sense  
and the opposite. The word and the qu'etness were  
like the hole and the star. In that spiritual freezer burning ,  
  
  
I found the insomniac dreams  o' my destiny and the  
waking dreams o' my un-destiny. You made them
become numb feelings and vice versa much more  
than a lyric song becomes a music sound to be a  
  
  
  
lyric song again. In that magic realism,my silent scream  
was moved into its echo to become deafening  silence  
forever. Fairly obvious, the down climbing  evilness  
echo'd ,''I want nothin' more and ne'er again''
  
Note ;My poem is a Dramatic monologue structured like a blank
verse using the oxymoron

I heard your steps.I had a feeling  
that red leaves knocked to the  
ground while falling from an imaginary
tree. I simply knew that they became  
frightened in the fall. I had the feeling that  
  
I heard your steps ,I had that odd  
sensation that you were still alive.  
But ,in the next moment,I was sure
that I didn't really hear any step.
I saw my Ligustrum vulgare losing  
its leaves. I saw myself in the mirror.
  
I couldn't hear your steps.All I knew was
that I loved you. All I could hear was
the fall of the leaves.But in the next  
moment, I felt your kiss on my incurable  
and irreversible wound.
  
I heard the church bell ringing.