Best Ankara Poems

From a balcony in Ankara
Exotic birds swoon
Pigeons sit on roof tops
Awaiting on the moon 
Traffic noises hum
Children’s voices clash
Banging pots and pans
For the evening dinner...

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Her small angelic face ...

Once a place where broad smiles bloomed like butterflies on marigolds,
is streaked with the furrows that countless tears have etched into...

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* This poem was written for a contest originally, but was used by Professor Anne-Marie Thornton of Bilkent University in Ankara, Turkey, to teach her...

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for The Beloved, a night at Nedjima Bar (Ankara, Turkey)

… hypnosis shattered by atomic jiggling, salivation of song on your brow,
channeled chaos of body, spastic...

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A stable plate on two different trays
historically embracing the celebrated words of Caesar.
Home to the Hittites of old, St. Nicholas and the Antioch’s monument,
and a...

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Give us this day our daily…

I do not even have to move my bottom much
remote control in hand I choose what they call
news just the...

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By a stone near Saqqara 
Sand blown from the Sahara
Mixes with dust from Ankara

Particularly near a pyramid
it peculiarly disappears amid
Two ascetics on a pilgrimage 

They...

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we gathered our canteens
while coughing up
tar from the hidden gravel
across high terrain

through the mist of Ankara
teal fabric blew in the.breeze
over burnt orange fragments
torn from my...

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Alfred out fishing

Alfred, the pianist, who insists he is not my father,
And I went out fishing caught a few when I gutted one of them
We...

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From Wisconsin the American walked the streets of Lagos
To black Africa welcome! To the pearly continent
Cradle of creation, primordial of civilizations
To the thickest jungles, haven...

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A lark smiles and chats
With sunrays in Ankara 
Hunter shoots it dead

Vengeance in a truck
Mows down people in Berlin
In Christmas shopping

Pain in pink ribbons
Thorns in...

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The dream was of me
I dreamt off me in my dream
It was fearfully dreadful a dream
Long ago was the day of my last dream
Before the...

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But what of Aysin? She'd be here by three. 
What seemed to me the perfect metaphor 
(young Ankara was her, old "Stamboul", me) 
was not...

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I felt a bit like Humbert, or John Proctor, 
an ageing vulture drawn to fresh young flesh. 
She was a pretty, witty Turkish doctor 
(so,...

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The Unredeemed 
There are flashes when my liberal views falter
and I ask myself, these people like Breivik and 
the killers in Ankara and Paris would...

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