I think of Istanbul
Diary recalls beautiful memories
May peace prevail

I feel for Istanbul
breathe in a cup of cay
May happiness spread

Istanbul Magic
how many times it warmed me
My hope is with you

There is tale of  Kavala
which tells of hero true
simple man defyingly hopeful
would row the Aegean blue

Did this alone to save Turks
as Bulgars were encroaching
He knew the Greeks on boats
somewhere were approaching

To Thasos he rowed trough night
darkness of waves o'er sea
Only stars be shimmering guide
Long nautical miles to be free

His muscles wore desperate, weak
yet the fisherman pressed bravely on
for love of his wife and family
He gave word, but his heart was gone

By daylight the sailors returned
Man had found friend in Greek Armada
Just in time troops did arrive
and saved the burning of Kavala

Turks rushed from their homes
to embrace with joy, Greek sailors
Yet one woman knew of a man,
the fisherman who did not fail her

And though he had sadly perished
after his long tortuous journey
his family knew of shimmering star
a hero never more so aptly worthy

salt stings wounds
salt stings eyes, entering, leaving...
healing, healing. The sea will take you away.
I tire of hearing abot these migrants
well they tire of the rick-shaw of an untested boat
of their homes becoming rubble & dust clouds,
of seeing blood in the dirt.
As long as there is war,
as long as there is famine
as long as there exists somewhere
called 'refuge'
then there will be refugees.
Oh child, rocked to sleep by the tide...
you should never have to answer for adult violence,
innocent & sleepy, sinless.
You have been written in blood in the old books
you have been decided for.
Your dice have been rolled by strange hands;
born amid angry eyes,
and so shall die,
washed ashore upon sand,
carried quietly away
to your final crib
to your refuge.

Today is Thanksgiving and we need to be thankful,
but its hard you see....
since this will be my moms  last time for Thanksgiving turkey.

I am ever so grateful to be able  to share today..
and I will take many pics so I can always remember all she may do or say!

Its just sad to think that this will be the last....
but then again, one day too we all must pass!

Like the delirious rivers in spring
I am drowning in the arms of  lilacs
and enjoying the purple dawns,
lavander happiness.

Snowdrops!
no need to be ashamed anymore.
I drink bottled dreams of eternity,
as suicide-bomber butterflies stir my veins.

a black hand seller in mercato ballaro
with a fake-gold cross  on his neck, proud on his face,
and grief on his back.
his proud is not because of his fake-gold cross
he takes for the Jesus ,swinging on his neck,
he landed from the sky
unlocks all the doors

a black hand seller in mercato ballaro
cannot forget some of 6200 black eyes
drowned
in the Mediterranean sea
and cannot say
the Mediterranean sea is not more beautiful
than 6200  black eyes
cannot say
no sea is more beautiful than 6200 eyes

and
it is useless to love dumb prophets
on the blind-windows of your souls
which not open out to us