#indispensable - Hello Poetry

It's a space within a space, where all are transparent...i am myself. On two layers of shelves on a wall, a dictionary and a thesaurus, share space with what seems like an heirloom of books, old and new: Gibran, Dylan Thomas, Dickinson, Bronte, P. B. Shelley, Jane Eyre, Hosseini, few Ludlum oldies, etc... Here, a blending of the tangible and the intangible is present, like habits and thoughts that don't, and can't die, stuffs that've endured the years: old unposted poems with scribbled notes, faded photos in sepia...faded jeans; a bed that awaits fatigued body and mind on toxic days, and becomes a desk to write on...when needed. It's not as though nothing's awry, imperfections are seen by the eyes, some details may not be precise in this accepted clutter of daily goings- on...of feelings...of some undoings that interrupt and are mingling with enigmas flashing up the ceiling; lost shoe-laces wander, and go hiding among indispensable habits and things, kept...retained, like a hanging purse, grabbed, when a sudden trip occurs. It's hot and cold in this ***** place, it's cozy, my neatly-cluttered space. sally b Rosalia Rosrio A. Bayan March 24, 2022

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Mar 24, 2022

Mar 24, 2022 at 7:27 AM UTC

sally-a-bayan

Space

It's a space within a space, where all are transparent...i am myself. On two layers of shelves on a wall, a dictionary and a thesaurus, share space with what seems like an heirloom of books, old and new: Gibran, Dylan Thomas, Dickinson, Bronte, P. B. Shelley, Jane Eyre, Hosseini, few Ludlum oldies, etc... Here, a blending of the tangible and the intangible is present, like habits and thoughts that don't, and can't die, stuffs that've endured the years: old unposted poems with scribbled notes, faded photos in sepia...faded jeans; a bed that awaits fatigued body and mind on toxic days, and becomes a desk to write on...when needed. It's not as though nothing's awry, imperfections are seen by the eyes, some details may not be precise in this accepted clutter of daily goings- on...of feelings...of some undoings that interrupt and are mingling with enigmas flashing up the ceiling; lost shoe-laces wander, and go hiding among indispensable habits and things, kept...retained, like a hanging purse, grabbed, when a sudden trip occurs. It's hot and cold in this ***** place, it's cozy, my neatly-cluttered space. sally b Rosalia Rosrio A. Bayan March 24, 2022

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Memories of this lady never leave my mind. she wasn't a rider, but acted better than one, riding high above many hurdles in life...fear never took her away from her responsibilities... when the fuse in the main switch gave way, and dimmed the old house, this lady braved the dark...armed with a flashlight and pliers, she replaced the burnt fuse with a new one and brought light back.....each time the old-fashioned flat iron overheated, she easily replaced the glass-like insulator inside, so it could right away be used again... whatever needed repair---garment, tools, the fence, the house...ripped, or with holes, she mended and patched...even blind-hemmed a torn relationship once...yes, she mended cracks...was always in the midst of broken vases, gluing pieces back together, so she may put water and lovely flowers in it... nothing was impossible for this gentle lady... she moved mountains for her loved ones, always persevering and ingenious, life became less difficult...she painted their young minds with a mix of hues, so they may appreciate and be grateful for rainbows and yellow sunrises, learn to accept black, gray, unhappy moments, and be thrilled by fiery orange sunsets.... this lady is indispensable...and irreplaceable, SHE, and others like her, are called mama, muter, mom, mum, majka, inay/nanay, mae, matka, madre, mom....ahh, the list is long... Sally Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan May, 8, 2020

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May 7, 2020

May 7, 2020 at 8:29 PM UTC

sally-a-bayan

SHE

Memories of this lady never leave my mind. she wasn't a rider, but acted better than one, riding high above many hurdles in life...fear never took her away from her responsibilities... when the fuse in the main switch gave way, and dimmed the old house, this lady braved the dark...armed with a flashlight and pliers, she replaced the burnt fuse with a new one and brought light back.....each time the old-fashioned flat iron overheated, she easily replaced the glass-like insulator inside, so it could right away be used again... whatever needed repair---garment, tools, the fence, the house...ripped, or with holes, she mended and patched...even blind-hemmed a torn relationship once...yes, she mended cracks...was always in the midst of broken vases, gluing pieces back together, so she may put water and lovely flowers in it... nothing was impossible for this gentle lady... she moved mountains for her loved ones, always persevering and ingenious, life became less difficult...she painted their young minds with a mix of hues, so they may appreciate and be grateful for rainbows and yellow sunrises, learn to accept black, gray, unhappy moments, and be thrilled by fiery orange sunsets.... this lady is indispensable...and irreplaceable, SHE, and others like her, are called mama, muter, mom, mum, majka, inay/nanay, mae, matka, madre, mom....ahh, the list is long... Sally Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan May, 8, 2020

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Ben Sana Mecburum (“You Are Indispensable”) by Attila Ilhan translation/interpretation by Nurgül Yayman and Michael R. Burch You are indispensable; how can you not know that you’re like nails riveting my brain? I see your eyes as ever-expanding dimensions. You are indispensable; how can you not know that I burn within, at the thought of you? Trees prepare themselves for autumn; can this city be our lost Istanbul? Now clouds disintegrate in the darkness as the street lights flicker and the streets reek with rain. You are indispensable, and yet you are absent ... Love sometimes seems akin to terror: a man tires suddenly at nightfall, of living enslaved to the razor at his neck. Sometimes he wrings his hands, expunging other lives from his existence. Sometimes whichever door he knocks echoes back only heartache. A screechy phonograph is playing in Fatih ... a song about some Friday long ago. I stop to listen from a vacant corner, longing to bring you an untouched sky, but time disintegrates in my hands. Whatever I do, wherever I go, you are indispensable, and yet you are absent ... Are you the blue child of June? Ah, no one knows you—no one knows! Your deserted eyes are like distant freighters ... perhaps you are boarding in Yesilköy? Are you drenched there, shivering with the rain that leaves you blind, beset, broken, with wind-disheveled hair? Whenever I think of life seated at the wolves’ table, shameless, yet without soiling our hands ... Yes, whenever I think of life, I begin with your name, defying the silence, and your secret tides surge within me making this voyage inevitable. You are indispensable; how can you not know? ********* Original text: Ben sana mecburum bilemezsin Adini mih gibi aklimda tutuyorum Büyüdükçe büyüyor gözlerin Ben sana mecburum bilemezsin Içimi seninle isitiyorum. Agaçlar sonbahara hazirlaniyor Bu sehir o eski Istanbul mudur Karanlikta bulutlar parçalaniyor Sokak lambalari birden yaniyor Kaldirimlarda yagmur kokusu Ben sana mecburum sen yoksun. Sevmek kimi zaman rezilce korkuludur Insan bir aksam üstü ansizin yorulur Tutsak ustura agzinda yasamaktan Kimi zaman ellerini kirar tutkusu Bir kaç hayat çikarir yasamasindan Hangi kapiyi çalsa kimi zaman Arkasinda yalnizligin hinzir ugultusu Fatih'te yoksul bir gramofon çaliyor Eski zamanlardan bir cuma çaliyor Durup köse basinda deliksiz dinlesem Sana kullanilmamis bir gök getirsem Haftalar ellerimde ufalaniyor Ne yapsam ne tutsam nereye gitsem Ben sana mecburum sen yoksun. Belki haziran da mavi benekli çocuksun Ah seni bilmiyor kimseler bilmiyor Bir silep siziyor issiz gözlerinden Belki Yesilköy'de uçaga biniyorsun Bütün islanmissin tüylerin ürperiyor Belki körsün kirilmissin telas içindesin Kötü rüzgar saçlarini götürüyor Ne vakit bir yasamak düsünsem Bu kurtlar sofrasinda belki zor Ayipsiz fakat ellerimizi kirletmeden Ne vakit bir yasamak düsünsem Sus deyip adinla basliyorum Içim sira kimildiyor gizli denizlerin Hayir baska türlü olmayacak Ben sana mecburum bilemezsin. Keywords/Tags: Turkey, Turkish, Attila Ilhan, modern English translation

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Feb 24, 2020

Feb 24, 2020 at 9:13 PM UTC

michael-r-burch

Attila Ilhan “You are indispensable” translation

Ben Sana Mecburum (“You Are Indispensable”) by Attila Ilhan translation/interpretation by Nurgül Yayman and Michael R. Burch You are indispensable; how can you not know that you’re like nails riveting my brain? I see your eyes as ever-expanding dimensions. You are indispensable; how can you not know that I burn within, at the thought of you? Trees prepare themselves for autumn; can this city be our lost Istanbul? Now clouds disintegrate in the darkness as the street lights flicker and the streets reek with rain. You are indispensable, and yet you are absent ... Love sometimes seems akin to terror: a man tires suddenly at nightfall, of living enslaved to the razor at his neck. Sometimes he wrings his hands, expunging other lives from his existence. Sometimes whichever door he knocks echoes back only heartache. A screechy phonograph is playing in Fatih ... a song about some Friday long ago. I stop to listen from a vacant corner, longing to bring you an untouched sky, but time disintegrates in my hands. Whatever I do, wherever I go, you are indispensable, and yet you are absent ... Are you the blue child of June? Ah, no one knows you—no one knows! Your deserted eyes are like distant freighters ... perhaps you are boarding in Yesilköy? Are you drenched there, shivering with the rain that leaves you blind, beset, broken, with wind-disheveled hair? Whenever I think of life seated at the wolves’ table, shameless, yet without soiling our hands ... Yes, whenever I think of life, I begin with your name, defying the silence, and your secret tides surge within me making this voyage inevitable. You are indispensable; how can you not know? ********* Original text: Ben sana mecburum bilemezsin Adini mih gibi aklimda tutuyorum Büyüdükçe büyüyor gözlerin Ben sana mecburum bilemezsin Içimi seninle isitiyorum. Agaçlar sonbahara hazirlaniyor Bu sehir o eski Istanbul mudur Karanlikta bulutlar parçalaniyor Sokak lambalari birden yaniyor Kaldirimlarda yagmur kokusu Ben sana mecburum sen yoksun. Sevmek kimi zaman rezilce korkuludur Insan bir aksam üstü ansizin yorulur Tutsak ustura agzinda yasamaktan Kimi zaman ellerini kirar tutkusu Bir kaç hayat çikarir yasamasindan Hangi kapiyi çalsa kimi zaman Arkasinda yalnizligin hinzir ugultusu Fatih'te yoksul bir gramofon çaliyor Eski zamanlardan bir cuma çaliyor Durup köse basinda deliksiz dinlesem Sana kullanilmamis bir gök getirsem Haftalar ellerimde ufalaniyor Ne yapsam ne tutsam nereye gitsem Ben sana mecburum sen yoksun. Belki haziran da mavi benekli çocuksun Ah seni bilmiyor kimseler bilmiyor Bir silep siziyor issiz gözlerinden Belki Yesilköy'de uçaga biniyorsun Bütün islanmissin tüylerin ürperiyor Belki körsün kirilmissin telas içindesin Kötü rüzgar saçlarini götürüyor Ne vakit bir yasamak düsünsem Bu kurtlar sofrasinda belki zor Ayipsiz fakat ellerimizi kirletmeden Ne vakit bir yasamak düsünsem Sus deyip adinla basliyorum Içim sira kimildiyor gizli denizlerin Hayir baska türlü olmayacak Ben sana mecburum bilemezsin. Keywords/Tags: Turkey, Turkish, Attila Ilhan, modern English translation

86

You are Indispensable for me. Like the sun for the moon Words for a writer Flower for a honey bee Colours for a painter Vermilion for a married woman

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Dec 17, 2018

Dec 17, 2018 at 6:42 AM UTC

Grumpy

YOU ARE...

You are Indispensable for me. Like the sun for the moon Words for a writer Flower for a honey bee Colours for a painter Vermilion for a married woman

6

All it takes is one gesture of love once a day for the rest of days.

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May 17, 2016

May 17, 2016 at 10:25 AM UTC

joshua-trevino

Haiku on necessity.

All it takes is one gesture of love once a day for the rest of days.

3

Cement stained with tears, men have come and gone. Replaced by their fears, nothing left to lose. Look them in the eyes, tell them it'll be alright. Then put them on the back burner, show them what you think they're worth. Families are cold, hungry and scared. Did you ever care? You got your fair share. To break a man's will, is to tear down his pride. Replace him with metal, make him obsolete in his mind. Man is not an object, humankind as a whole. We are irreplaceable, we are indispensable.

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May 28, 2015

May 28, 2015 at 3:24 PM UTC

barry-pietrantonio

Indispensable

Cement stained with tears, men have come and gone. Replaced by their fears, nothing left to lose. Look them in the eyes, tell them it'll be alright. Then put them on the back burner, show them what you think they're worth. Families are cold, hungry and scared. Did you ever care? You got your fair share. To break a man's will, is to tear down his pride. Replace him with metal, make him obsolete in his mind. Man is not an object, humankind as a whole. We are irreplaceable, we are indispensable.

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