Tesekkürler
Have you ever pondered your value?
Asking sincerely about your worth
Placing importance on a thank you
Playfully with words referring to your birth
You may ask simply what is the meaning?
Based on what is being written here
It's a poetic celebration of well-meaning
Referring to you because you're dear
The earth was blessed on that given day
Having been gifted someone truly special
Daily joy even on days that may seem gray
Always with your presence totally on the level
You make things truly better and whenever
Even on the days that you don't think so
Life becomes a smile with just a "whatever"
I just wanted you to understand and know
Forever thankful for you, even if your eyes begin to roll
(Turkish DOBAG rug)
Degrees of Soul
Awhile ago I got a Turkish rug that opened my eyes
To what real joy looks like
Transferred to one’s work.
In this rug I could see the soul of a weaver
Proud to be part of a tradition
She added to with each delicate knot.
And with my eyes so opened
I could clearly see by extension
The degree of soul of each work of art in my home.
And the range was startling
From nonexistent to brilliant glimpses
Into the creative Mind of the universe.
After a few days my vision grew foggy again
And the soul of all these pieces
Became once more hidden beneath the surface.
The window onto the essence of the Mind
Had closed taking with it the lucid vision
And sense of connection.
I was left apart but never separate
From the knowledge that soul truly exists
It’s mark on everything we do.
The degrees of soul are everywhere like this
Subtle and informing
Flavoring what it is we call quality of Life.
And so we live and breathe
Taking and giving an essence beyond words
Even when unconscious clearly manifest.
(11/14/24)
It is important to vary the landscapes,
For the spirit to be happy,
But what soothes a lover?
The beauty of a mountain range,
The purity of a river, the silence of a lake,
It takes an inner garden to the soul,
To grow roses, orchids,
Daffodils and all kinds of sweets,
Only the sun has authority over the heart of man.
Il est important de varier les paysages,
Pour que l’esprit soit heureux,
Mais qu’est ce qui apaise un amoureux ?
La beauté d’une chaine de montagnes,
La pureté d’une rivière, le silence d’un lac,
Il faut un jardin intérieur à l’âme,
Pour y faire grandir des roses, des orchidées,
Des jonquilles et toutes sortes de douceurs,
Seul le soleil a autorité sur le cœur de l’homme.
turkish coffee is so grand
settled grounds of desert sand
fills a warm space
taste full of grace
time flavored layers expand.
a gold orb of light
rises behind the mountains ~
a new day begins
Written 22 September 2020.
How many sons
have we lost
How many demons
have we found
How many graves
must we dig
To make the ‘Fatherland’
proud
(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2016)
Mavi kubbe, sana savurdu beni.
Bedenimi çektin derinlerine.
Dünya büküldü o an.
Diplerindeyken ben,
siyah sularin doldurdu cigerlerimi.
Dalgalarin esir aldi ruhumu,
ben fark etmeden.
Billurlasti her sey,
sana aitken benligim.
Hiç oldum ilik rüzgarlarinla.
Zamanin disindaydim sanki bedenindeyken.
Yandim,
alev aldi maviliklerin.
Kayboldum,
can verdim çakillarina.
Söndüm,
eftelyalar dogdu denizinde.
Sonlardan en sonra
kizgin kumlarina vurdum senin.
Dünya dogdu o an.
Choreography’s Turkish Delight
On sediment at the bottom of the cup of societies
drags of dis-enfranchised masses are waiting for a
trickle from the leaks of luxury founded on coffee
planted on wealthy soil and pittances from labour
Reading the ground rules from a chalice turned
upside down and upright once more the fortune
told and retold providence destined is unchanged
its café royal remains a future chained to the past
The coffee knows what lies ahead no clairvoyance no
Tarot palm lines crystal balls psychic power needed
on the menu of the human condition's commandments
suspended the puppet master is still written in the stars
Strings attached Jo and Joan will always feed on scraps
and they are strung to grinding bones and soul to the
core while exuding aroma of sweat blood and tears so
that porcelain sheltered charm infuses delight for the few
In hypocritical slurps I write to the tune of my coffee and
choreography remains until the revolution comes in vain
Turkish Delight Jumble
‘Glorious’ gallimaufry
crumbles confusion in vain
entrenched in Gallipoli
still no sense derived from pain
27th March 2017
It was more than for just a little while.
Billy Hayes learned about prison Turkish style.
Smuggling hashish was a foolhardy thing.
His arrest at the airport was like a scorpion’s sting.
Back home, his friends and family tried every way
to get him released from the prison where he would stay.
Guards and fellow prisoners made life a living hell.
Miserable conditions prevailed where he did dwell.
Miraculously, Billy Hayes would survive,
even though years later, he was barely alive.
Based on the 1978 film “Midnight Express”
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 temporal
mangled mind of madness
shifting the gates
of emotional tiredness
we'd waited above ground
as the evening roared
past us again in solitude
miles from Augsburg
I catered to the infamous thunder
beside the housing quarters
beneath the wretchid callings
shattered beyond such graveness
that beckoned our soul's to port here
a silence abode within me
amid the character lessons
followed abroad the cold shoulders
hitler had morbidly left behind
Tiny bus bumps along Ephesian roads
bright orange sun hangs overhead scorching
uneven ground lined with creases
library; crumbled and marked
with seal--Medusa’s hair
coiling around, eyes
burning my soul
she sends chills
down my
spine.
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