siiri üç ayakli sandalyenin üzerine birakip
yari çiplak bir küfrü lavaboya kusuyorum
yüzümün yarisini aynada kirip
ebem kusagindan bir ölünün
yanlislikla yarasini kanatiyorum
vaziyet sizdim kabugum kirilmisti
kemiklerimi bakir bir sinide kana bulastirip
ellerimi kesip pencereden disari atiyorum
susuyorum melenkolik bir sigintiyla
askilardan bir bir topluyorum sancilari
cigerlerimde sustali bir biçak
azick ölsem diyorum azicik
fazlasi saksida kuruyan adsiz bir çiçek mi
bir seyler oluyor
koridorun en sonun da
dis kapinin hemen arkasinda
ters dönmüs kaplumboga hissi
karinca sürüsü sirtinda tabut ok yönünde agit
ayriliga dönerken duymakla görmek arasinda ki an
bas agrilarimi buz dolu bir kovanin içine bosaltiyorum
geride biraktigim her sey bas asagi sarkik
anlamini yitiriyor tilsim tüm bulgular pozitif
sadakatsiz ve omurgasiz bir gölgenin
içinden geçtim de tutunamadim annemin saçlarina
siiri sargi bezine sarip
simetrigi bozuk bir masanin üstüne birakiyorum
Categories:
ters, anxiety,
Form: Prose Poetry
Hengâme 2
yagmur yagiyor üryan ve telas içinde izmir’e
bir kadinin incecik parmaklari gibi dokunuyor bedenime
iterek karanligi geçiyorum sarhos dervisler mezarligindan
cebimde intihara meyilli flüt sesini annem saniyorum
yanilgidan içimdeki tanri resimlerini ters çakiyorum kaburgama
daglara ormanlara suya inaniyorum içime düsmüs süpheden
dionysos’a kiziyorum sesimi bosaltiyorum bakire bir cümleye
rest diyorum yasadigim ana gören olmuyor korkudan
süzüldüm can ve ten üstünden delirmesin diye sizi
kendimi ve psikiyatri doktorumu yitiriyorum
ablak suratli monolog bir budanin aklinda
eklem yerlerimde repliksiz korkunç titremeler yaliyor kendini
nietzsche ile karsilasiyoruz psikiyatri kavsaginda
kan sicaktir diyorum parmaklarimi çikariyorum beynimden
durmaksizin su içiyorum elmaya kan bulasiyor agliyorum
nilgü’nü hatirliyorum bir balkona siginiyorum
meryem ve üç kardesi bir de isa
yemin olsun ki ölüm yamalidir diyorum
sonsuzlugun girtlagindan çekiyorum kemiklerimi
ainsten oluyorum çocuklugum kaçiyor anne karnina
Categories:
ters, angst,
Form: Prose Poetry
beneath
t h e s* t *a* r *s
campfire flames
w a n e
a guitar stut~ters
the cowboy’s song
trails off ...
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Contest: Paint a Picture
using the Septolet form
(7 lines ~ 14 words)
Sponsor: Joseph May
Placed 1st
© 24th September 2020
Categories:
ters, night,
Form: Verse
mind mimes
tryn get the best
of
me
shackles and chains
my enigmad mystery
hat ters for hats
maidens with
made rats
madder
then
that
am
i
on
one
more
then that
wrestle
with
my
art
show
me
your heart
mine was torn from its sleeve
minding the business spawn
by
thieves
stolen parts
dolls torn apart
flesh porcelian skin
we have sunken in
harder to find
wind comes
they
are
playing
mind mimes
?
Categories:
ters, art,
Form: Lyric
Tell me you 8 me,
Please, don't you d-9.
Tell me to 1- der away,
That you're 2 bad for me.
Tell me of your 5 star escapades
With your Slay Queen 6-ters.
Tell me you're a 3-ickster
And your heart isn't meant 4 love.
Tell me, so I'd 0 my mind.
Categories:
ters, funny, goodbye, love, love
Form: Free verse
So long Tommorrow
Shine So brightly
Live so freely
Cry together
Laugh so deeply
Smile Forever
Be What you can
Be Believe in
You Shall bring us
Pride Forever
And I cannot
Bend To sunset
End All Things
Before They begin
Show Some mercy
Hold On to me
I salute You briefly
We are One No leaving
We will Talk So subtly
We shall Hold So tightly
Find Me wanting
Touch So softly
Breathe So camly
Give Me hope to
Want So subtly
Yes I'll follow
You So Swiftly
Kneel Before us
Let us guide you
Wash Away your
fears be complete
Grab on to me
Guide My feelings
Set Me free
to Wash Away
the Sins Of all
That hurt us on the
shores of winter
Never Once
Ill forget
times According
Bring Me joy to
Grasp this setting
I submit This column
Birds Are chirping
Clouds Are parting
Suns Are rising
Win Ters Falling
Storms Are ending
Men Are rising
Oh This freedom
This is you
No conflict
This is me
No deceipt
This is US
Be simple
By Athi Godlo
Categories:
ters, dedication, innocence, inspirational, journey,
Form: Ballad
Started writing: 1996
Finished writing: March 2012
Note: Inspired by my friend Mike
There once was a woman named Esther
Whose feelings were known to quite fester
Unless her lawn-mowing guy
Cut her lawn down to size
So her lawn and spirit were not mess-ters.
As long as Mike was her lawn-mowing man,
Sweet Esther was his biggest fan.
But once Mike could not mow
Her lawn and dismay did grow
Cutting down her lawn-mowing plan.
Some say that her lawn grew so high
That her lawn grew right over the sky.
Grew over airplanes that zoomed,
Birds, and hot air balloons,
'Til the man in the moon was green-eyed!
Note: Part of the Portrait Collection
Categories:
ters, fantasy, funny, imagination,
Form: Limerick
Will May help them
—————————
They are still on platforms and
their dine is on roads
Their dresses are torn as rags but
they are creators of our life
May comes here every year but
their life is still poor with ters
Their hands are handling gold and silver but
still they are eating in mud and paper plates
Palaces and multistories are their creation but
they have their bed on the earth under a open sky
Come my man to change their lives
at least to have an hut and plastic trays for food
Categories:
ters, social,
Form: Free verse