Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
"istanbul" poems
Many people write a "bucket list" of things they want to do before they die.  Now in my 80th year, I don't have the time or the energy to do things that others might aim for, but I have during my life visited many places, seen many things, and enjoyed many experiences that I would have been sorry to miss. There have also been some events that I would have preferred not to experience, but which have enriched my life in different ways, and which I remember with a kind of sad affection.   Some of these are very personal to me, and would not be interesting to most people, but read the note if you wonder why I chose them. Here then is what I might call                                                   My Reverse Bucket List Towns and cities – architecture & atmosphere    Barcelona, Spain    Venice, Italy    Oxford, England    Jerusalem, Israel    Luxor, Egypt    Varanasi, India    Hiroshima, Japan Pompeii, Italy Other locations    Galápagos islands, Ecuador    Great Barrier Reef, Australia    North Woolwich, London Churches    St Paul's Cathedral, London    Sagrada Familia, Barcelona    Coventry Cathedral    Córdoba Cathedral, Spain    Blue Mosque, Istanbul Other structures    Taj Mahal, Agra    Auschwitz concentration camp, Poland    Royal Festival Hall, London    London underground system (because it was the first, and I rode it for a long time).  Also the more splendid underground railways of Mexico City and Moscow.    Avebury Ring, Wiltshire, England (the largest prehistoric stone circle in the world, and much more primitive than Stonehenge)    Bayeux Tapestry     "Angel of the North" statue, Gateshead, England    "Christ the Redeemer" statue, Rio, Brazil Events    Messiah at Royal Festival Hall, Feb 1959, with the girl later to be my wife    St John's night, Spain, early 1990s (?)    Death and funeral of Diana, Princess of Wales, Aug 1997    Oberammergau passion play, 2010    Destruction of World Trade Centre, Sept 2001
0
Sep 17, 2018
Sep 17, 2018 at 9:16 AM UTC
Bucket List? -- Not Me!
Many people write a "bucket list" of things they want to do before they die.  Now in my 80th year, I don't have the time or the energy to do things that others might aim for, but I have during my life visited many places, seen many things, and enjoyed many experiences that I would have been sorry to miss. There have also been some events that I would have preferred not to experience, but which have enriched my life in different ways, and which I remember with a kind of sad affection.   Some of these are very personal to me, and would not be interesting to most people, but read the note if you wonder why I chose them. Here then is what I might call                                                   My Reverse Bucket List Towns and cities – architecture & atmosphere    Barcelona, Spain    Venice, Italy    Oxford, England    Jerusalem, Israel    Luxor, Egypt    Varanasi, India    Hiroshima, Japan Pompeii, Italy Other locations    Galápagos islands, Ecuador    Great Barrier Reef, Australia    North Woolwich, London Churches    St Paul's Cathedral, London    Sagrada Familia, Barcelona    Coventry Cathedral    Córdoba Cathedral, Spain    Blue Mosque, Istanbul Other structures    Taj Mahal, Agra    Auschwitz concentration camp, Poland    Royal Festival Hall, London    London underground system (because it was the first, and I rode it for a long time).  Also the more splendid underground railways of Mexico City and Moscow.    Avebury Ring, Wiltshire, England (the largest prehistoric stone circle in the world, and much more primitive than Stonehenge)    Bayeux Tapestry     "Angel of the North" statue, Gateshead, England    "Christ the Redeemer" statue, Rio, Brazil Events    Messiah at Royal Festival Hall, Feb 1959, with the girl later to be my wife    St John's night, Spain, early 1990s (?)    Death and funeral of Diana, Princess of Wales, Aug 1997    Oberammergau passion play, 2010    Destruction of World Trade Centre, Sept 2001
Continue reading...
38
I didn't get mail today, The postman didn't call, No letter box rattling, No letters in the hall, No dinner reservations, No flights to Istanbul, No romantic entanglement, Valentine's day’s so cruel.
0
Feb 14, 2015
Feb 14, 2015 at 5:11 PM UTC
Fourteenth of February
You can spend years, tears, and fights in unmatched white sheets of your dreams. Or rattle in an train to Istanbul, under their arm. His curls smell like sweat and he tastes like sweet, touched with hair and a scruff of a beard. He mingles Arabic, English, and French and you feel obsolete. But do not fall in love with a boy from Lebanon because sooner or later he will me gone.
0
Oct 13, 2014
Oct 13, 2014 at 6:49 PM UTC
do not fall in love with a boy from Lebanon
Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! The world is holy! The soul is holy! The skin is holy! The nose is holy! The tongue and **** and hand and ******* holy! Everything is holy! everybody's holy! everywhere is holy! everyday is in eternity! Everyman's an angel! The bum's as holy as the seraphim! the madman is holy as you my soul are holy! The typewriter is holy the poem is holy the voice is holy the hearers are holy the ecstasy is holy! Holy Peter holy Allen holy Solomon holy Lucien holy Kerouac holy Huncke holy Burroughs holy Cas- sady holy the unknown buggered and suffering beggars holy the hideous human angels! Holy my mother in the insane asylum! Holy the ***** of the grandfathers of Kansas! Holy the groaning saxophone! Holy the bop apocalypse! Holy the jazzbands marijuana hipsters peace & junk & drums! Holy the solitudes of skyscrapers and pavements! Holy the cafeterias filled with the millions! Holy the mysterious rivers of tears under the streets! Holy the lone juggernaut! Holy the vast lamb of the middle class! Holy the crazy shepherds of rebell- ion! Who digs Los Angeles IS Los Angeles! Holy New York Holy San Francisco Holy Peoria & Seattle Holy Paris Holy Tangiers Holy Moscow Holy Istanbul! Holy time in eternity holy eternity in time holy the clocks in space holy the fourth dimension holy the fifth International holy the Angel in Moloch! Holy the sea holy the desert holy the railroad holy the locomotive holy the visions holy the hallucina- tions holy the miracles holy the eyeball holy the abyss! Holy forgiveness! mercy! charity! faith! Holy! Ours! bodies! suffering! magnanimity! Holy the supernatural extra brilliant intelligent kindness of the soul! Berkeley 1955
0
4.3k
Footnote To Howl
Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! The world is holy! The soul is holy! The skin is holy! The nose is holy! The tongue and **** and hand and ******* holy! Everything is holy! everybody's holy! everywhere is holy! everyday is in eternity! Everyman's an angel! The bum's as holy as the seraphim! the madman is holy as you my soul are holy! The typewriter is holy the poem is holy the voice is holy the hearers are holy the ecstasy is holy! Holy Peter holy Allen holy Solomon holy Lucien holy Kerouac holy Huncke holy Burroughs holy Cas- sady holy the unknown buggered and suffering beggars holy the hideous human angels! Holy my mother in the insane asylum! Holy the ***** of the grandfathers of Kansas! Holy the groaning saxophone! Holy the bop apocalypse! Holy the jazzbands marijuana hipsters peace & junk & drums! Holy the solitudes of skyscrapers and pavements! Holy the cafeterias filled with the millions! Holy the mysterious rivers of tears under the streets! Holy the lone juggernaut! Holy the vast lamb of the middle class! Holy the crazy shepherds of rebell- ion! Who digs Los Angeles IS Los Angeles! Holy New York Holy San Francisco Holy Peoria & Seattle Holy Paris Holy Tangiers Holy Moscow Holy Istanbul! Holy time in eternity holy eternity in time holy the clocks in space holy the fourth dimension holy the fifth International holy the Angel in Moloch! Holy the sea holy the desert holy the railroad holy the locomotive holy the visions holy the hallucina- tions holy the miracles holy the eyeball holy the abyss! Holy forgiveness! mercy! charity! faith! Holy! Ours! bodies! suffering! magnanimity! Holy the supernatural extra brilliant intelligent kindness of the soul! Berkeley 1955
Continue reading...
42
New York, Tel Aviv, Moscow, London, Netanya, Bali, Istanbul, Riyadh, Beslan, Nisanit, Dublin Londonderry, Glasgow, Manchester, Spin Boldak (district), Kuta Kano, Baghdad, Kandahar Mumbai, Karballa, Boston All for God, the almighty God, the inhumanity in his name God, the creator I am weeping for the latest terror victims 141 injured in Boston 3 dead in Boston Jesus Saves...tell that to the dead When will it end? I have nothing....just tears, and an emptiness Confusion I leave you all with your prayers, for all of those lost Over time, to terrorist attacks listed and not listed I pray for the lost, the living and the future I remain confident in mankind....
0
Apr 15, 2013
Apr 15, 2013 at 11:25 PM UTC
I remain confident in mankind
Incessent drumming and the roar of raindrops Keep me from sleeping past dawn Welly boots step into the cold, wet day as the sky weeps for the loss of summer. The wind takes the wheel, driving water up trouser legs, into socks, under hats Blown out beş lira umbrellas discarded on the overpass A graveyard of useless metal spiders. Still, Still it rains Impromptu lakes form from the spontaneous rivers flowing in every street Bosphorus babies, cleansing the heart of the city People look like street cats; Soaked, preening, cowering under any shelter they can find And still, Istanbul. Still she rains.
0
Oct 29, 2010
Oct 29, 2010 at 1:33 AM UTC
Long May She Rain
Chessboard 's out you move your  Queen to face my Knight the last blackbird is singing in the night & the coffee's grown cold my pawn eats your King & you sigh and shake your head & show me a postcard from Istanbul as we decide to take a break the summer is dying the telephone sings but we don't answer
0
Jul 18, 2015
Jul 18, 2015 at 1:16 PM UTC
Chess
I am compelled I do not even obliged to In my mind I would keep the name as mıh Eyes grow is growing I do not know mecburum You know me the heat. Preparing trees to fall Does this city is the old Istanbul In the dark clouds are parts One side of the street lamp is The smell of rain on pavement I am obliged not you. Sometimes love is fearful dismally People are tired all of a sudden one evening later Prisoners to live in the razor's edge Sometimes it will break your hands passion How many lives are removed from a living What if you knock the door sometimes Humming in the back of the misery of loneliness Fatih in a poor playing gramophone From ancient times to play a Friday I stop and listen to sound at the beginning of the corner Should I bring unused gök Week disaggregated data is available How do I go What if I keep I am obliged not you. Maybe June or mottled blue boy Ah, you do not know who does not know Eyes hijack freighter is a desert Maybe you get on the plane in Yesilkoy Horripilation is all wet Maybe you're blind, are in rural precipitancy Wind will bring bad hair What a time to live if you think These wolves have perhaps mess But without dirtying our hands Ayıpsız What a time to live if you think Susan would also start with the name Order to move inside of the secret sea No other kind will not be I am obliged to you never know. Attila İlhan
0
Jan 21, 2013
Jan 21, 2013 at 11:12 AM UTC
from Attila İLHAN
Yahya Kemal Beyatli translations Yahya Kemal Beyatli (1884-1958) was a Turkish poet, editor, columnist and historian, as well as a politician and diplomat. Born born Ahmet Âgâh, he wrote under the pen names Agâh Kemal, Esrar, Mehmet Agâh, and Süleyman Sadi. He served as Turkey’s ambassador to Poland, Portugal and Pakistan. Sessiz Gemi (“Silent Ship”) by Yahya Kemal Beyatli loose translation by Nurgül Yayman and Michael R. Burch for the refugees The time to weigh anchor has come; a ship departing harbor slips quietly out into the unknown, cruising noiselessly, its occupants already ghosts. No flourished handkerchiefs acknowledge their departure; the landlocked mourners stand nurturing their grief, scanning the bleak horizon, their eyes blurring... Poor souls! Desperate hearts! But this is hardly the last ship departing! There is always more pain to unload in this sorrowful life! The hesitations of lovers and their belovèds are futile, for they cannot know where the vanished are bound. Many hopes must be quenched by the distant waves, since years must pass, and no one returns from this journey. Full Moon by Yahya Kemal Beyatli loose translation by Nurgül Yayman and Michael R. Burch You are so lovely the full moon just might delight in your rising, as curious and bright, to vanquish night. But what can a mortal man do, dear, but hope? I’ll ponder your mysteries and (hmmmm) try to cope. We both know you have every right to say no. The Music of the Snow by Yahya Kemal Beyatli loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch This melody of a night lasting longer than a thousand years! This music of the snow supposed to last for thousand years! Sorrowful as the prayers of a secluded monastery, It rises from a choir of a hundred voices! As the organ’s harmonies resound profoundly, I share the sufferings of Slavic grief. Then my mind drifts far from this city, this era, To the old records of Tanburi Cemil Bey. Now I’m suddenly overjoyed as once again I hear, With the ears of my heart, the purest sounds of Istanbul! Thoughts of the snow and darkness depart me; I keep them at bay all night with my dreams! Translator’s notes: “Slavic grief” because Beyatli wrote this poem while in Warsaw, serving as Turkey’s ambassador to Poland, in 1927. Tanburi Cemil Bey was a Turkish composer. Keywords/Tags: Beyatli, Agah, Kemal, Esrar, Turkish, translation, Turkey, silent, ship, anchor, harbor, ghosts, grief, Istanbul, moon, music, snow
0
Oct 30, 2020
Oct 30, 2020 at 4:28 AM UTC
Yahya Kemal Beyatli translations
Yahya Kemal Beyatli translations Yahya Kemal Beyatli (1884-1958) was a Turkish poet, editor, columnist and historian, as well as a politician and diplomat. Born born Ahmet Âgâh, he wrote under the pen names Agâh Kemal, Esrar, Mehmet Agâh, and Süleyman Sadi. He served as Turkey’s ambassador to Poland, Portugal and Pakistan. Sessiz Gemi (“Silent Ship”) by Yahya Kemal Beyatli loose translation by Nurgül Yayman and Michael R. Burch for the refugees The time to weigh anchor has come; a ship departing harbor slips quietly out into the unknown, cruising noiselessly, its occupants already ghosts. No flourished handkerchiefs acknowledge their departure; the landlocked mourners stand nurturing their grief, scanning the bleak horizon, their eyes blurring... Poor souls! Desperate hearts! But this is hardly the last ship departing! There is always more pain to unload in this sorrowful life! The hesitations of lovers and their belovèds are futile, for they cannot know where the vanished are bound. Many hopes must be quenched by the distant waves, since years must pass, and no one returns from this journey. Full Moon by Yahya Kemal Beyatli loose translation by Nurgül Yayman and Michael R. Burch You are so lovely the full moon just might delight in your rising, as curious and bright, to vanquish night. But what can a mortal man do, dear, but hope? I’ll ponder your mysteries and (hmmmm) try to cope. We both know you have every right to say no. The Music of the Snow by Yahya Kemal Beyatli loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch This melody of a night lasting longer than a thousand years! This music of the snow supposed to last for thousand years! Sorrowful as the prayers of a secluded monastery, It rises from a choir of a hundred voices! As the organ’s harmonies resound profoundly, I share the sufferings of Slavic grief. Then my mind drifts far from this city, this era, To the old records of Tanburi Cemil Bey. Now I’m suddenly overjoyed as once again I hear, With the ears of my heart, the purest sounds of Istanbul! Thoughts of the snow and darkness depart me; I keep them at bay all night with my dreams! Translator’s notes: “Slavic grief” because Beyatli wrote this poem while in Warsaw, serving as Turkey’s ambassador to Poland, in 1927. Tanburi Cemil Bey was a Turkish composer. Keywords/Tags: Beyatli, Agah, Kemal, Esrar, Turkish, translation, Turkey, silent, ship, anchor, harbor, ghosts, grief, Istanbul, moon, music, snow
Continue reading...
52
It’s really a feeble attempt to make something between one and five work in our daily lives. They have gone from an intriguing idea and amount of worth to a silly little gift grandparents hand out freely on Valentine’s Day along with a card worth more than the contents. They've never set foot in any wallet of mine; they simply always made their way back behind my socks. The valuable of least worth I owned was never spent strictly based on rarity. These days you are a mistake just like all the other rarer coins like that three-legged buffalo nickel only I could maybe pay a bit of college tuition with one of those. You can bring in about four Lira though; enough to get a big bowl of any kind of noodles and sauce they have down at that restaurant in Istanbul near the Grand Bazaar. That night I stopped a little closer to my hotel and spent my last four on a beer with my meal. We kept walking and saw that young boy shivering as always against the cold vents that produced less heat than my freezer back home. No change jingled in my pockets because I had eaten my fill. A thousand suns heated my back without that jacket but the warmth was bitter like stolen Turkish Delights. I couldn't tell if he was going to drape that jacket around his tiny body or have it stolen by one of the bigger kids. We still spoke though. I know that was the day I discovered the language of the universe.
0
Apr 26, 2013
Apr 26, 2013 at 12:24 AM UTC
On A Two Dollar Bill
I entered my poem "last night I dreamed" in the Tallenge poetry competition for May 2014, which it won, it's now in the annual competition so I'd really appreciate your support by voting for it at - bit.ly/1pJ0N3z You can find the poem down the line in my list of poems, but I'll paste it here again so you can check it out to see if it's worth a vote. Last Night I dreamt Of the Hagia Sophia. Looking across mighty Bosphorous. In Istanbul, in Byzantium, in Constantinople. A prize of ages........... In all her many's real and imagined glory. Man's desire, God's gift. Stone's testament To my species' faith, In eternity. Though this Hagia, My Sophia, was one of my dreams In a dream-city/state. In a dream Macedon/Thrace, Modern and ancient Asian/Europe, European-Asia, Turk and Greek Jew and Russian Balkan stars fall upon her' Coloured light's and bright vid-screens. Amid stone and earth Glass and concrete, Granite and amythst Huge, jewel-covered, ancient beyond measure.... Not just Constantine's church, though mighty church it was.. Or Mehmet's prize; though great Mosque it became Nor Theodosius's rock Though he still fights for her Somewhere in the past. And no dry museum either, Though museum she is.......... In reality. Just an ancient place, Euxine harbour Cross-road of man and water, Land and Gods Magic and reality Chozen by Hellas Built and owned by Christ's children Subjects of St. Paul's Holy empire. Orthodox and sacred To Greek and Rus. No Latin hymns We're sung in her walls. Then won by Turk In wars fierce and long - So now Muhammed's shrine Ottoman and Pasha Jewel of a new kingdom Built upon built Myriad upon myriad Pagan, Muslim, Jew, and Christian And the Gods of Hellas who dwell there still Watch and wonder at it all But in my dream She was made - in the shape of a grassy mound Many faceted, growing still Amid structures, attached to her spans and arches Ancient wonder Modern glory Flowing and rising Worshipped by all who dwelt near her. Grassed covered Monument strewn Stretching up to the dark - Starry Sky Arches Domes Butress' Spires Crosses Cresents Heart's desire White rocks paved And eternal grasses Dewed by Hellene Gods Whose light it saved Last night I dreamed Of the Hagia Sophia.......
0
Aug 12, 2014
Aug 12, 2014 at 6:21 PM UTC
Not a poem, A request
I entered my poem "last night I dreamed" in the Tallenge poetry competition for May 2014, which it won, it's now in the annual competition so I'd really appreciate your support by voting for it at - bit.ly/1pJ0N3z You can find the poem down the line in my list of poems, but I'll paste it here again so you can check it out to see if it's worth a vote. Last Night I dreamt Of the Hagia Sophia. Looking across mighty Bosphorous. In Istanbul, in Byzantium, in Constantinople. A prize of ages........... In all her many's real and imagined glory. Man's desire, God's gift. Stone's testament To my species' faith, In eternity. Though this Hagia, My Sophia, was one of my dreams In a dream-city/state. In a dream Macedon/Thrace, Modern and ancient Asian/Europe, European-Asia, Turk and Greek Jew and Russian Balkan stars fall upon her' Coloured light's and bright vid-screens. Amid stone and earth Glass and concrete, Granite and amythst Huge, jewel-covered, ancient beyond measure.... Not just Constantine's church, though mighty church it was.. Or Mehmet's prize; though great Mosque it became Nor Theodosius's rock Though he still fights for her Somewhere in the past. And no dry museum either, Though museum she is.......... In reality. Just an ancient place, Euxine harbour Cross-road of man and water, Land and Gods Magic and reality Chozen by Hellas Built and owned by Christ's children Subjects of St. Paul's Holy empire. Orthodox and sacred To Greek and Rus. No Latin hymns We're sung in her walls. Then won by Turk In wars fierce and long - So now Muhammed's shrine Ottoman and Pasha Jewel of a new kingdom Built upon built Myriad upon myriad Pagan, Muslim, Jew, and Christian And the Gods of Hellas who dwell there still Watch and wonder at it all But in my dream She was made - in the shape of a grassy mound Many faceted, growing still Amid structures, attached to her spans and arches Ancient wonder Modern glory Flowing and rising Worshipped by all who dwelt near her. Grassed covered Monument strewn Stretching up to the dark - Starry Sky Arches Domes Butress' Spires Crosses Cresents Heart's desire White rocks paved And eternal grasses Dewed by Hellene Gods Whose light it saved Last night I dreamed Of the Hagia Sophia.......
Continue reading...
97
At the Saudi Arabian Consulate, In Istanbul, Turkey, I hear Something dreadful happened, although Details are as yet unclear. Saudi born Jamal Khashoggi, Journalist for the Washington Post, Entered the consulate knowing that It might not be a welcoming host. An Apple Watch might seem useless. Khashoggi's Watch, nevertheless, Recorded his brutal beating and ****** According to the Turkish press. But was it an Apple Watch, or had Turkish authorities bugged the room? Whatever the case, people are certain That that’s where Khashoggi met his doom. We know he entered the building whole. We're waiting to hear more news releases, For many fear that the journalist, Exited the building in pieces. When asked if he'd condemn the Saudis If they had committed the ghastly deed, Trump at first appeared reluctant To criticize them or intercede. The Saudis pay billions of dollars For weapons, he said, to the USA. And what's-his-name wasn't even An American citizen anyway. Later, Trump admitted that We need a thorough investigation. But sanctions involving money? No, That would severely hurt our nation. Meanwhile, the Saudis **** innocent Yemenis with the weapons they buy, And rectitude falls by the wayside As bank accounts multiply. -by Bob B (10-13-18)
0
Oct 13, 2018
Oct 13, 2018 at 11:44 AM UTC
****** at the Consulate
A is for Athens B is for Berlin C is for Cairo D is for Dublin E is for Edinburgh F is for Fukishima G is for Guangzhou H is for Helsinki I is for İstanbul J is for Johannesburg K is for Kiev L is for London M is for Madrid N is for New York O is for Oslo P is for Paris Q is for Quito R is for Riga S is for Shanghai T is for Tokyo U is for Ulan Bator V is for Vancouver W is for Washington X is for Xianyang Y is for Yerevan Z is for Zagreb Travel the world see these places meet new people make new friends take photos make memories always be happy
0
Aug 15, 2014
Aug 15, 2014 at 7:29 PM UTC
A to Z of the world
I stepped out, finally, a terrestrial in Istanbul. My leveled shoulders carried an empty satchel of undone buckles To let every fresh sip of raw experience tumble inside, my adventures impatiently plucked from the closest branch   of a banyan tree bearing a crisscross of endless tales. I rescued my lungs with air, thick with resentment while swallowing astringent flavored symphonies and ballads of orchestrated ruckus as women deflated their lungs blowing out antipathy, through high pitched whistles - A forgotten kettle blowing off steam. Adorned in scorn, sardonic welcoming mats lined the airport. Women pushed at their car horns as if the dragging sound, like a severing saw can cut through the tenacity of the ones with innate ear plugs. They have become obsolete traffic signals - First, their green light diminishes - like their wages Then, their red light is dimmed - it stops too many people in their footsteps. And thus the world just races past them, And they are left only with yellow - Telling them to slow down. They said it was an act of love. That their plumped crimson lips, Glossily complimented with nails that matched the tails, of the so-called mile high club was just too much to handle. Priming for work meant neglecting their love for the perfect shade of watermelon lipstick, No more sweet ketchup fingertips Showing you the emergency exits. No more, lipstick stained glasses of a self made woman. These cumulating lip kissed glasses   stack up like trophies, that sway in the heavy panting of the ones who can’t keep up with this generation. So the women gracefully conducted the orchestra and through lipstick stained whistles, They tried to drown out the dogmatic policies And with unrelenting strife, they passed on some advide stop shattering our liberties And underminining our abilities for Endless possibilities. Because we are the ones Who fly high and soar And we will always look fabulous while doing it.
0
Aug 5, 2013
Aug 5, 2013 at 7:45 AM UTC
To the ones who fly and soar, May you always look fabulous while doing it.
I stepped out, finally, a terrestrial in Istanbul. My leveled shoulders carried an empty satchel of undone buckles To let every fresh sip of raw experience tumble inside, my adventures impatiently plucked from the closest branch   of a banyan tree bearing a crisscross of endless tales. I rescued my lungs with air, thick with resentment while swallowing astringent flavored symphonies and ballads of orchestrated ruckus as women deflated their lungs blowing out antipathy, through high pitched whistles - A forgotten kettle blowing off steam. Adorned in scorn, sardonic welcoming mats lined the airport. Women pushed at their car horns as if the dragging sound, like a severing saw can cut through the tenacity of the ones with innate ear plugs. They have become obsolete traffic signals - First, their green light diminishes - like their wages Then, their red light is dimmed - it stops too many people in their footsteps. And thus the world just races past them, And they are left only with yellow - Telling them to slow down. They said it was an act of love. That their plumped crimson lips, Glossily complimented with nails that matched the tails, of the so-called mile high club was just too much to handle. Priming for work meant neglecting their love for the perfect shade of watermelon lipstick, No more sweet ketchup fingertips Showing you the emergency exits. No more, lipstick stained glasses of a self made woman. These cumulating lip kissed glasses   stack up like trophies, that sway in the heavy panting of the ones who can’t keep up with this generation. So the women gracefully conducted the orchestra and through lipstick stained whistles, They tried to drown out the dogmatic policies And with unrelenting strife, they passed on some advide stop shattering our liberties And underminining our abilities for Endless possibilities. Because we are the ones Who fly high and soar And we will always look fabulous while doing it.
Continue reading...
57
Dear salient Moon , how was twilight over Asia Across the bazaars of Istanbul , the mountains - of Pakistan , the midnight Sahara , the fishing - villages of Portugal Speak of the mighty Atlantic with crashing - waves , the Isle of Bermuda , the tranquil - Bahamas , the shores of Newfoundland , the hills of Scotland Sir Luna must be quite bored with Hill Country , I would surmise , after all he has witnessed on the good Earth tonight
0
Apr 21, 2016
Apr 21, 2016 at 12:21 AM UTC
Goodnight
Last Night I dreamt Of the Hagia Sophia. Looking across mighty Bosphorous. In Istanbul, in Byzantium, in Constantinople. A prize of ages........... In all her many's real and imagined glory. Man's desire, God's gift. Stone's testament To my species' faith, In eternity. Though this Hagia, My Sophia, was one of my dreams In a dream-city/state. In a dream Macedon/Thrace, Modern and ancient Asian/Europe, European-Asia, Turk and Greek Jew and Russian Balkan stars fall upon her' Coloured light's and bright vid-screens. Amid stone and earth Glass and concrete, Granite and amythst Huge, jewel-covered, ancient beyond measure.... Not just Constantine's church, though mighty church it was.. Or Mehmet's prize; though great Mosque it became Nor Theodosius's rock Though he still fights for her Somewhere in the past. And no dry museum either, Though museum she is.......... In reality. Just an ancient place, Euxine harbour Cross-road of man and water, Land and Gods Magic and reality Chozen by Hellas Built and owned by Christ's children Subjects of St. Paul's Holy empire. Orthodox and sacred To Greek and Rus. No Latin hymns We're sung in her walls. Then won by Turk In wars fierce and long - So now Muhammed's shrine Ottoman and Pasha Jewel of a new kingdom Built upon built Myriad upon myriad Pagan, Muslim, Jew, and Christian And the Gods of Hellas who dwell there still Watch and wonder at it all But in my dream She was made - in the shape of a grassy mound Many faceted, growing still Amid structures, attached to her spans and arches Ancient wonder Modern glory Flowing and rising Worshipped by all who dwelt near her. Grassed covered Monument strewn Stretching up to the dark - Starry Sky Arches Domes Butress' Spires Crosses Cresents Heart's desire White rocks paved And eternal grasses Dewed by Hellene Gods Whose light it saved Last night I dreamed Of the Hagia Sophia.......
0
Apr 4, 2014
Apr 4, 2014 at 3:07 AM UTC
Last Night I Dreamed
Last Night I dreamt Of the Hagia Sophia. Looking across mighty Bosphorous. In Istanbul, in Byzantium, in Constantinople. A prize of ages........... In all her many's real and imagined glory. Man's desire, God's gift. Stone's testament To my species' faith, In eternity. Though this Hagia, My Sophia, was one of my dreams In a dream-city/state. In a dream Macedon/Thrace, Modern and ancient Asian/Europe, European-Asia, Turk and Greek Jew and Russian Balkan stars fall upon her' Coloured light's and bright vid-screens. Amid stone and earth Glass and concrete, Granite and amythst Huge, jewel-covered, ancient beyond measure.... Not just Constantine's church, though mighty church it was.. Or Mehmet's prize; though great Mosque it became Nor Theodosius's rock Though he still fights for her Somewhere in the past. And no dry museum either, Though museum she is.......... In reality. Just an ancient place, Euxine harbour Cross-road of man and water, Land and Gods Magic and reality Chozen by Hellas Built and owned by Christ's children Subjects of St. Paul's Holy empire. Orthodox and sacred To Greek and Rus. No Latin hymns We're sung in her walls. Then won by Turk In wars fierce and long - So now Muhammed's shrine Ottoman and Pasha Jewel of a new kingdom Built upon built Myriad upon myriad Pagan, Muslim, Jew, and Christian And the Gods of Hellas who dwell there still Watch and wonder at it all But in my dream She was made - in the shape of a grassy mound Many faceted, growing still Amid structures, attached to her spans and arches Ancient wonder Modern glory Flowing and rising Worshipped by all who dwelt near her. Grassed covered Monument strewn Stretching up to the dark - Starry Sky Arches Domes Butress' Spires Crosses Cresents Heart's desire White rocks paved And eternal grasses Dewed by Hellene Gods Whose light it saved Last night I dreamed Of the Hagia Sophia.......
Continue reading...
95
We walked together, found In town centre, on the mark, We were a bullseye, joyous, Shy, striding opened streets, So proudly paved, just for us, To trip and now, here faraway, In white shops we sprung free, Tried on silly scarves and hats, Imagining rendezvous in London, Paris on the Seine, the long boot Of Italy, sleeping inside a railway Station on our way for Provence, Or Barcelona, even dare Istanbul, It was too fun, so brilliant to dream, In return those tickets got punched, Now we travel solo on lost avenues, Waking up is not as nice as it seems.
0
Jun 19, 2016
Jun 19, 2016 at 9:42 AM UTC
Lost Together
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
0
Jul 17, 2016
Jul 17, 2016 at 8:11 AM UTC
Istanbul
Everybody knows of Istanbul in Turkey, This poem will only lay some light on it, Through the history & mankind's irony. Istanbul was settled as a Greek colonial city, 'Twas named Byzantium after a Greek king, And the Old Greek king's name was Byzas. The Romans under Constantine won over it, Now it was their turn to rename the city, After the emperor as Constantinople. The great Turks captured it in 1453 AD lastly, The fabulous fortress was renamed yet again, The present name Istanbul descended in 1923.
0
Jul 31, 2013
Jul 31, 2013 at 2:15 AM UTC
A City's Tale On History's Trail
While in Istanbul one night, the woman showing me the city asked: -“What do you look for in a man?” My mind immediately fixated upon you. How to tell world that the sillage of your touch remains upon my skin That my nights end with your breath upon my lips, And the early morning dawn is infused with your scent. After a few moments,  with a sad smile I said: “I don't, I have already found him”.
0
Mar 22, 2015
Mar 22, 2015 at 1:02 PM UTC
in Istanbul
The sad thing is I could have justified my instruction with the simplest of reasons. I would not have asked a harmful or a wicked task of him and I could have explained that with perfect clarity. But in the instant that he asked 'Why?' my patience failed and I said, 'Because I told you to.' The implied threat was sufficient and the task was done, satisfactorily. If I had only known that I would become one in a long line planting furrow after furrow of bitter seeds in this young man's head, each of which would grow into the toxic blossom of blind obedience I would have checked myself that day. But I did not. And any inquest worth its salt would line me up beside him, beside parents, teachers, priests, drill sergeants, generals, presidents A line of dominoes aimed remorselessly at a smiling young woman with a placard in a park, in Istanbul.
0
Jun 6, 2013
Jun 6, 2013 at 8:25 AM UTC
A Teacher Reflects on his Complicity
We walked together, found In town centre, on the mark, We were a bullseye, joyous, Shy, striding opened streets, So proudly paved, just for us, To trip and now, here faraway, In white shops we sprung free, Tried on silly scarves and hats, Imagining rendezvous in London, Paris on the Seine, the long boot Of Italy, sleeping inside a railway Station on our way for Provence, Or Barcelona, even dare Istanbul, It was too fun, so brilliant to dream, In return those tickets got punched, Now we travel solo on lost avenues, Waking up is not as nice as it seems.
0
Jun 24, 2015
Jun 24, 2015 at 2:11 AM UTC
Lost Together
Despite multiple accusations Of ****** impropriety, Trump still demonstrates A false display of piety. He knows his loyal fans out there Would never, ever truly deceive him. He denies whatever he wants And they will all believe him. Justice Brett Kavanaugh Aspires for both fame and glory. Somehow he got people to Give credence to his manicured story. Following Trump's slick advice, He thought, "Hey, why not try it? Whatever they accuse me of, I will out-and-out deny it." Putin said he hadn't meddled In our twenty sixteen elections. Although we know that Internet trolls Were following his cunning directions. Putin merely had to say, "Mr. Trump, I did not do it." That is all that Trump needed To say to the world, "You see: I knew it." Trump asked the Saudi king If he had had a journalist killed In Istanbul. That is where Jamal Khashoggi's blood had been spilled. The king and prince denied it. Trump, Satisfied, said, "You see: The king said they didn't do it. His denial's enough for me." Just deny whatever you've done. That's the message we are getting. Having to pay consequences Can stifle your plans and be upsetting. Just deny it, and you will have All of your fans believing your tale. Turn them all against the victim To save your *** and stay out of jail. -by Bob B (10-16-18)
0
Oct 16, 2018
Oct 16, 2018 at 1:29 PM UTC
Just Deny It!
Once more I dream of Istanbul where light perfumes and Eastern tunes conspire to set my sleep on fire in my dreams this city seems to sparkle in the evening sky and as I wander by Topkapi, I see treasures in the architecture and jewels in the very stone that builds into the home of artefacts and in times gone by, this building was the East of many men who desired to steal what was within. I always dream of Istanbul when my life is not as full as I think it ought to be and I see it as a mental therapy that helps me sort the wheat from chaff,and belly dancing girls who laugh and serve up raki , I see pearls that peep from midriffs bare, a kind of reiki for the mind which I don't mind at all nor care if this is not politically correct in my dreams,I elect the law stands silent to one side so I can ride the currents of the night that flow in cities of delight. I wake to drizzle,one more grizzle of the day in which I get up out of bed but should really stay and replay Istanbul once more. In the palm of my left hand I find a pearl (which is not good) a memento of the Eastern Hollywood tonight, I'll have to go back there and find the girl who shared this treasure and has stolen at her leisure my heart away.
0
Jul 10, 2013
Jul 10, 2013 at 2:32 AM UTC
Gateway