May 2013


Betül Akdağ


fidel cried




ours was a smart revenge

a picture of peace and love

the half blood princess of caribbean

poor and happy in a light harvest,

in a mortar, in mid air- havana cigar

talismanic-hermetic rebel molasses

 manes of freedom, prince of loyalty

serene sound of beginning and ending

a missing tale, not a utopia

the story of our fidel

the black fate of golden africa

vulture fodder is mary of the sudan

the children of felluca resistant to death

palestinian ali defies tanks with stones

how many springs passed since the last peace?

a mother branded her face, a glowing heart her hand

he sniffed and kissed the burnt babies – fidel cried

their intuitions would rebound- tears of homeless time

plentiful and fertile earth – as white as a mother’s milk

tattoos on children’s faces came alive

they measured feeling and patience on the verge of death

silent scream echoed in cosmos- stars burnt out

zigzaggy death machine-yankee relied on dollar

fidel touched the voice of living babies and cried

demon of hell, crook and killer- fright and ravage

dervish deserving heaven- hero of silence- honour of orphans

where are hope, happiness and human pride

gene asylum- pentagon, blood museum of the west on the cross

a horny glowed hurricane- coming is a steed at full gallop

the last hope of the resurged children

the redeemer

brought into existence by time

snow setting fire to white rose of triumph

divine hand killing the fire of death

I do not want to cry for the dead

you also do not cry for them fidel

while you sleep

while you sleep, thousand candles burnt my eyes

I thought blind fire was luck, candles cried

while you sleep, full moon milked all of the light

while you sleep on my knee, wine was orchard

sea blazed in the arms of the sun

while you sleep, blue cloud rained and cried

while you sleep, your eye was a mountain in my eye

while you sleep, I was on guard, love alive

magic land sleeping in my palm

delirious and oneiric river in my heart

the expansive shelight inside was my love

the green poison of separation in its filter

while you sleep, your eye was a mountain in my eye

while you sleep, I was on guard, love alive

ways evanished, I reached inside of myself

as I kissed, I thought you were an amaranth violet

love rose from remonstrance, love angel from fire

I burnt in the blue light of your steel sound

while you sleep, your eye was a mountain in my eye

while you sleep, I was on guard, love alive


aware of difference- sky god

more courageous than eurasia bustard

anatolian harvest is blessed

jade love of scarlet horses of fire

of dreamland and atlantis

marquee with its golden poles

ten thousand years old

tender and tall

rose of love



ilmiye çığ*

doomed to fire

lunatic god, motley dawn

lilith was the first of sin and love

midas is a deaf-mute ear with an earring

holy healer, shaman mother

her hennaed white hand is a tablet

honest prometheus healed by kibele resurged

in that graveyard

the soil lying to death and

quaffing blood

endless and timeless

mother of lost civilization

way of ancestors


kemal’s daughter

in the light of

hittite sun

her arm shook

and rebelled

with thousand of gods in

full of mothers





*Muazzez İlmiye Çığ is a Turkish archaeologist and assyriologist who specialized in the study of Sumerian civilization.


of karamans crazy dervish neyzen of konya for peace and love that rotation goes on and we fall in a fire and we are whirling                                              ah invocation                                                huu dance                                         heaven we are all in the sky – we are endless and timeless in nonentity and nihil – in existence rich and fertile charities                we came alive in an only body reed                            not other, not me, all of us huu                                  in which me and self melt one- at the centre of world in harmony – in the lost time spindle rotates my head spins in the last breath-candle died-cried as I kissed the love tree a touch of hope blue eye of water- şems of tebriz- salina was burnt inner revolution all the loves bridge to future your eye was a mountain in mine – hittite sun – anatolia milked love affair moment mevlana master wine hu u

they were always like this

they were always like this

first they molested the sun

then raped the known history

they scattered the silk and spice to roads

did the dovetail change its way

a crane on the telegraph wires

broken dreams – fish of dry lake

they fired the cyan in the sky

they opened glassy black eyes

they were always like this

they sprinkled water in which dead people were washed

their faces did not feel pain in water

water burnt, earth bled

while starving for water and soil

they gave children iron flowers

instead of bread and book

they were always like this

by sucking our variegated blood

vomited our feces too

they hanged us

without exception red

sallow or black

they coined money of our skin

when the confused bomb in their bloody hands

took the wrong way

they scattered heads to schoolyards

they were always like this

accursed death machines

they cut blessed breasts

of heartsick women giving milk

so that children would not suck

in order that they would die

they forgot the heads of children in naphtha holes

and locked the doors of heaven

sacksful of fresh children heads

a photo of a grinning hyena in its shadow

frozen hearts keeping silent

the eery clouds, fear and sorrow

so that tomorrow would not come

they were always like this

dash away your tears my angel

peace and love global- inner

white feathers are everywhere

look, pigeons are rotating

universe is dreamland; creatures are good morning

world keeps turning just as in its first day

free and elated moon swings in whitish nights

we are all like this in the light of lost time

it was midday; stars started to dance

while the dawn breaks, they were always like this

my soul rose garden

anatolia dreamland

oh beloved, the rose of dreamland

I have something to say

silent words

wriggle, babble

and echo through verses

the mountains the ears of which ring

wanderer dervish, comrade of dream

plant poem, tie spikes

nomad of bolkar, dervish

my fiery heart saw into

betrayal and prayer

brooks flow passion and vigour out

knowing eon their own right

infinite is in my palms

mad and his childish heart

lantern of lost time

hennaed spring asleep

sadness is an abyss, smiles

moon is down, sun is to come up

in the sempiternal sky of poems

moony, roseate muslin clouds

in the sea of love hysteric-mumbling

misty night-hoary shaman and his rattle

all of us pursued an old dream

craggy mountains are lovesick-petted

famished and snowy white my bright angel

dog days of summer in south-orange time

I have molten in my lover’s chest


away from tomorrow

I talk inside

my lunatic destiny

my instrument makes your sound

my mother tongue turkish, my endless love

water is fire, love is poetry, and my verse is ballad

heart of bard is a volcano; his spring is love

I spun yarn, suffered a lot

and quaffed the wine of love

the last fire, the last breath

flowing from you to me

farewell is equal to death

dying self is stone of patience

mother-naked, birthday suit

yet you are my purity

the only pleasure of my penniless heart, love

I walk the long way of fire

my heart is fire scene


am I the one being crimson as wine

the one flying like a bird and slithering

am I that bard with a pigeon in his heart

the one looking with the eye of desire

the door of my heart is open, step in

not from the threshold, but from inside of me

I have arrived by drilling cliffs to taste your flavour

you, the valley grape of the orchard of my heart

I will die for you then come alive inside of you

you, the huge dream tree the shadow of which embrace the whole universe

roads know me: the man of the roads, birds of passage, and dervish

I looked for you everywhere in universe, finally found in my self

my heart is the garden of roses-anatolia is dreamland

I am not inside of me: mad, factoid, and runaway

break your chains, tremble, shake yourself and come inside

imazighen dance

who is that one burning in fire

a drop of water, thousands of lives

is that myself inside of me

something flows ray by ray

to its spring from the well of love

there exists evil eye traces in your sea eyes

seeing the tiniest eye of water

ours is a path of hope, reaching the sun

golden haired summer is a lovesick girl whose load is salt

perseveres- berber horses make faraway into close

the great sahara is too small for mustafa kemal

now that france has jean darc

berbers have el-kahine

red lizard the train passing through love tunnel

dear rim, I will wait for you at the phosphate station

destiny scraped on our heart is a wound

as black as depths of black africa

ancestor of humanity, culture crown, private of freedom

tuareg, berber, san bushmen becoming extinct

when as our love falling in deserts is a drop of ocean

date eyes are fountains, mind is source of life

entrance gate and threshold of the infinite

our blind love is the light of lost time

once the stars blink in the black hair tents

berber dance starts at underworld embrasures

since yesterday, there have been desert lions in sahara and oasis

freedom torch is the last deserter and the first berber

I laid the sun and moon at your feet, the hand of bride

the last picture putting the finger on my soul is dangerous

me, the sufi dervish whirling

while cobra blowing reed, hitting a tambourine and dhikring

shahmaran falls asleep when I touch

the earth falls into dreams- heavenly

lip marks are side by side- burning

  not poison, zam-zam and wine we drink

from magma of poetry, thirstily

people are equal and fellow

no war-yes peace

let us focus on love

at that moment universe is narrow

starts imazighen dance not games to die

crazy dervish


neither a commander



dream fellow

poor dervish

I am a jade colt

my love is unrequited

key of the hearts

running iron

a good horse is called bay

a good man is called batty

dervish of cosmos

through a lifetime having no beginning or end

I have lived with all of you

namely just beside your winds

your breaths, fights, loves and dreams

in a triangle loaded of energy

mortal as if he were never to die

I wave in a desert sea- tide

a swan of baize in full moon time

my shadow and nails became longer- reward

I got tired of lying on a dream

a prisoner of being a human –captive

joseph is at the bottom of the pit

mustafa is at the desperate peak

kemal, yunus, mevlana- sufism

you shivering inside of me, the profound head

alpha of cosmos ran to seed

we are teeth of love shells in garden of dreams

“while palms hide kisses” we neigh

black horses are steed, rivers are shahmaran

flos elaeagni is snowdrop, waterless sea

bee with no honey and us

are at the head of spring

I have followed a canis lupus-man of ways

then pitched a marquee, got caught into net, cried

my tear was a drop of ocean- elbow grease

I loved, burnt and swallowed a volcano

then reached the mountains- challenged to seas

the mad of earth, saint of universe

wind rose, wind of taurus, flood of dreamland

runner nomad, dervish of cosmos-my hand

away from the life, close to it

 that poem is for you

read mavournin


seven seasons, seven regions, seven hills

where the dreams join together spreading

well! kings, sultans, robbers and sevens

ravened Istanbul but they could not consume

clover in my heart, rhapsodic river, cascade

house of tulips, tulipas- istanbul

crowned of all flowers, major remedy of beauty

whirling in the dance of souls, how the mighty have fallen

in pursuit of elapsing and lost, nightwalker flower

come before death, set a slice of smile

dells of dawn is captive and atrabilious cry of a gull

a mournful stream flows, kissing shores

I hold on you istanbul, free and childish

I eclipsed by you istanbul, my eyeful


all pollution of town descended over me, here

a breath through winded nights, one more

I long for green, blue, yellow pine and rainbows

thirsty for love and snow storm, my flesh is in tatters

a still sunday morning, my hand reached to the sky

it was love then I am in maşukiye again greening in my dreams

peak of a lost love, hey grand hill, kartepe

I am free sprawling on your bed

a mysterious, magical sufi tune calls bard

azan or coy, which one is writing that poem on the sky

one of my eyes is sapanca, the other is cove, watch the scene

we stomp together with meadows, snowdrops, kemancha and reed

cherkes beauty walks down the river telling “favour”

while you sleep in my eyes, yours used to weave love, eternal

I am in dreamland, I am the sacred phoenix, one side of me is caucasian

as I drink from spout, I feel thirsty for love, another vessel and another


sunrise freesia

focus of love in my heart

lilac blue- meadow saffron

I kissed fire- drank snowdrop

lady’s earrings is lovesick

lolling against the mountain

mother-naked rocks

rojda wear mourning

shaman is the master of fire

hayyam is lover of stars

flower girl of basketmaker

clouds cry berivan

the moon beyond the cloud-aybuke

rock crannies have the right of privacy

so they distill love by deciphering the pore

your green eyes hide smiles in her dimples

if they touch separation

gives good news of birds-my heart is a birdhouse

snowy mountains await the arrival of you

tomorrow is visiting day- my heart is in your fire

our pupils will catch alight

shrapnel wound remaining from blood-red dawn

will blossom into freesias

yet I was a healing snake relining

I got burned while eluding from my flesh to fly

cause I was a nomadic wolf headed shaman with flower crown

a nomadic passing across the river flowing into its inner spring

high mualla

the one making Istanbul homeland

rose of osman of beyağıl

and beyoğlu

language of streets

high mualla

she plays the sax

in kandilli graveyard adays

nurses the mole at nights

drunken red horses start to dance

her dreams sleep under her eyelids

breasts are free, amber lips are raised

dry autumn milk, the sea crossed with shore

rotten scatty lizard, scarlet its edges

useless are proved prayers

kneading madness with wisdom

bringing a scorpion into childhood tales

besides of violin, mandolin and guitar

she plays the sax passionately

high mualla with her frozen mouth

tides among the arms of accordion

pandora’s box opens and shuts

she lives only for pandora

remaining is rejoice

everyone is astonished at her

she harbours motor ahmet

yet I made a pillow of the moon

so that calves could lick the night

then I tied stars with roses

and touched the life by sculpting my hands

where is the star – brook is captured in the sea

the autumn rose faded through ethereal loves

“shake yourself and wake to you” lie on your dreams

bear your cross, hang your past on the wall

sax and clarion are silent, play castanets

accordion is enough for you, high mualla

“yesterday I was singing

today listening to you

harum-scarum and happy is the life

how nice and well

high mualla is waiting for a kiss

terror the tuberculosis

a love has been wasted away

I have been wasted


if I touch them

wires of phone

will be broken

if I not, they’ll reach you

bad news travels fast

while my chest ripping my heart out

my left lung is theater of war

roses of blood blossoms in beyoğlu

my heart is beating my chest

bird screaming in the cage- captivity action

the other precipice, your lip traces are still alive

how many falls passed after breaking up

how many times you beat those pavements

at every corner there is another trace of eye

while my dream bathing in a clear fountain

chains in my heart, your smile in my eye

I am a lost poet in my own country

what a pity- what a shame

mountains are offended- the sea is bereaved

seven hills are my tiara

kazancı ramp is my youth

“yek gülay” peak of sorrow

boiling hopes roar

epic night tales’ fever

village was attacked by bandits while I was far away

earth became without light of heart

never does love end by killing the lover

how many dark bombs burst into our souls

braves and beauty of dreamland never end

global city- heaven of love

istanbul is a fire rose- worth seeing

while turquoise eyes falling like stars

hope terrorism to spit blood

dying alive

light wind of light broke the night

your hair plaiting the moonlight was stringy

as our dreams were nesting each other

the one talking dreamy was a tiny hand

I was in torture, to death, to faith

light to the rain, the sun to gallows

my love breaking the night was hung on the sun

I came across with your sorrow on the narrow-blind roads

the angel running to the light with freedom in her pillion

butterfly sharpening her sword and rancour

night mirrors the moon, so does mirror the face, the moon to the plain

then watches her own funeral to the end

whirlwind and eddie of life drag to sky

common ground of sea and desert is sand-yellow wheel

I am alone on the way of self- at war

with you the dark side of the moon looks bright

defeat and victory are unnameable, let us stop to love

rivers run inside of me being a dense forest alone

as you cried while you were being born, poet was not free in 71-81

while you were flaking in the fire, every part of me was captive

sway beautiful

I open my chest to the winds of winter


I sleeted down the summer lands

bridal dress

I have gone beyond the peak of love

and revealed my secret

I scratched my wounds

to find the life

drunk while watching the fire

I reached to the sky

and washed with the wine

went around vineyard

as I kissed red, the rose was adorned

her mouth sang out

I reached the white mountain

having nevus on her chin

I dipped all sorts of flower

and got into honey with you

get words out of your tongue sweeter than honey

with your white curly hair like jacinth

with ruffled fringe skirt

and the axis of equator on your belt

sway beautiful

swing and swing again

do not let your honey bubble eyes

touch the barriers

there are eye traces in your eye

dreamland is narrow for us

in the lost times

a dance starts


mountains come closer

beloved come closer

hand by hand


green was dying

flower was fading

trees were crying

loves were decaying

humanity was melting

soil was sliding

mountains were undressing

hills were shrinking

rocks were enlarging

tired of a dream

you in my dream

are not cheery

light in my eye

is not enormity

me on my face

isn’t flesh

me inside of me

isn’t forbidden

 deaf mute on my tongue

is not crescent

fading rose

is not september


do not shoot the dawn

the sun is blessing the love

is aurora made of golden

the blue lighthouse inside me

drying sycamore of having not love

and we are having death throes

sky of the blind is without beams

a drop of ocean

lip trace on the photograph

please button your lips

well then my child

of which dream I am tired


fire scene of love-celestial

nude and silent night

milk white and mother-naked

the moon is related to the night

night to the gun barrel

that is lip red- live ember

I kissed the night for a last time

hey warrior

hush and listen

endless silence

as the scream of blind night

touch the blue

the moonlight receded

falling star inside me

green and light jade

the flash lightning inside

blow the crazy breeze

the last zephyr- the first trade wind

the last flower springing to life

inside the crevice

is dying in the pot

red-blooded leaning on the night

the rifle whose barrel bushing out

dawn is on the wind

I am into the nightwalker dreams

nestling to the mountains on the quiet

singing a ballad

kemal’s song

yellow crocus purple violet

star-like flowers

 piko weaves vignette by vignette

victory feast starts with the sun

wedding bairam zeibekiko


what lovely wind kissing my window

ten steps from pendik to peking

the thousand kilometres too near

voyager writes epopee –manas

asia -land of ancestors- rose and heart

moon faced, almond-eyed altai

wet rail, slipping time

the last lip mark of the sun

every moment passing nicely is

 a stone’s throw away

culvert and the silk road

connecting you to me


they came back

from fire land

the lost birds

whirling semah in the sky

in the war of ninety three

they whirled too

it was not the crane time

winter birds came back

looking at sarıkamış-kars eternally

I fell in love with a caucasian girl, azeri

speckled partridge ricochets, slips on the ice

sheik shamil and his sword came back

ararat with rosy white face perished

shaking sparkle horse and enver

smelt death, his eyes twitched

silk plains were in snow the height of a cane

mountains and brooks cried, everywhere is blood

the brave cuddling up to his horse and gun

lying without tag and shroud

wake into dreams and lullabies, come

green and be suffused with the mountain kaf

sarıkamış fell; sorrow was snowy white

cıldır went mad – quarters grey – hope fell into dream

losers wore icy shrouds, graveless

arpacay thawed, melted like the lives

fire of snow, snowdrop, full moon and sorrel

sun feels blue and pick up shells in the dark

flower that blossoms – bleeds

a hundred twenty thousand times

the flower freezing in the ember hearts

fire in quarters

crazy wind and his brave son black train

how many tunnels getting to freedom you passed

freezing fire connects foreign lands to home

I am in love with that coal-eyed ant

the snake clinging his own light while loving

lost, orphan, destitute, savage

the moment of love and sorrow, moment of fire and rebirth

escapee, storm, cry – the heart of shaman

the light of cow mehmet, his holy khan

intestine full of blood in ulukışla

we drink white kumiss with anise smell, blood

the last turbulence coming through time

orisons to ülgen dying and resurging

in a mystical smash on a journey to cosmos

asparagus- the holy fire of juniper

sick- evil spirits, bad vibes are out

shamanic journey, vineyard house of trance

ember heart anatolia, motherland of turks

ear of wheat-plenitude, shining face, ember of heart

my oath, others rifled my first love and the last bud

my destiny, broken saz, my breath and ney player

my mother who is weighed down, wizard of poems- wolf of fire

iron horse heading for dream of night

“the train comes. it comes well, lei lei sweet heart”

hey firefighter! one more shovel of coal, love in ember

it vaporized as heated, wet railways got lost

bolkar burnt, I want to get off the train in ulukışla station

eyes are siblings

greetings to other eye

heroes are in blossom

 I worship words of wisdom and hazel eyes

lover that focuses on love

fuzuli, nesimi, yunus

mighty and generous fellows

rigor and suffer of the world

live in my eyes

so do dead silence

and cries of children in war

my heart is a fire scene

my tears are flood of people

as embers fall into dreams

fires of spring shoot forth

in pleasure of sibling eyes

live together lost and dead loves

yet I got lost in your eyes

and died of the bends in honey bubble eyes

your twitching eyes fired are blind

look and see flowers, bugs and love

your sharpened smoky lashes are arrows

shoot me on the petals

two cities eyes to eyes

let hazar flow into aegean sea

baku in izmir

karşıyaka in baku

cities on the wings of my wind

“two states, one nation”

their light is a ballad of friendship

coming together of graceful days

dance of fire, impulse of loves

blood kiss

I opened my eyes in an almshouse in my dream

thinking and kissing were crime

yet I kissed only the sun

loved and smelt the anatolian fire

prison- bedlam is fading- weird

my lip mark started to laugh- id est

light were flowing on my cheek

red dawn of lips vanished

the last kiss and smoked mirror

blood mark- kiss of death

I put a cross on the world with my blood and

had a trip across the universe in my dreams

eternal and unending

the sun runs around my axis

I drank up my lips’ red whirling

an ardent-silent and deep sorrow in my heart

of free dreams and laughter with pincers

I am passing by a river in a bloody bed

by kızılırmak- flooding and running its source

the river wringed my throat- I am a slave

yet I am free in my cell!

a slipping whistle on my lips

the crazy light buried into death

the snow tulip blooming in graveyard

my sap arising from dead as it was kissed

my lip mark freshened-shahmaran

my lips started up- burning on the mirror

the moon light wringed my tongue, wild-spiral

in sleep-on query-in judgement ordered and adjudged

bullets were shot by lead letters

shaking my hand is hand of light in darkness

the loon who raped the history

who was that kissing me in shelter

who did I kiss in torture

did zephyr break the glass of love

did pencil do away with the poet

when the flower of twilight bloomed, I was lonesome

with the blood leaking from history’s lips

I wrote an era whose cherry was popped

a letter to a death poet

ancient wisdom from altai to bolkar

wind at the centre of the circle- sacred ballad

black lake watched and listened- coolness

embroidered uplands were his confidants

on the edge- in the passage of poetry- had you missed, you would have come

roses fallen in the moment between my eyelids in february

  smiling glazed mirror was my hidden secret-fire land

stars were broken into pieces as they burnt out- disillusion

shadow falling into darkness- bloodless and unscented

I reached victory purifying from passion-bodiless

loneliness coming with night – wringed my neck

corpse was dead alive – without love and poetry

birds of passage carried life to other dreams

we made love without a word- you were too mean to give your love

for a barefoot woman whose hair smells soil

you planted poems in your charred heart- you said you would die- for her

you lost the fire of soul swaying on the focus of your dreams- you died

yet I still write through a virtual reality- beyond reach

dance of the shaman

ice blue altai mountains

the first white summer is waiting for you

sentinel delta on my forehead is yellow

perhaps that smaragdine light is my birthmark

I am escapee in a deep inner diving

uncle kam- from which dream I fell

who is that me finding me inside my dream

where did my ancestors wake as I was sleeping

shambala, belovodia-altai ranges- top of belucha

black jades and healing herbs are the faces of love

the writing inside the circle and sacred triangle

familiar daughter of another forgotten time

a mellifluous melody with gleaming fire

starting is a soulful fire dance

I am in the fire and dance

fire and dance are inside me

awareness- internal essence, my soul and flesh

I am dancing between two worlds- tidal

a tale of love, luciferous and lively breath of witch

my dreams are made of water and fire- lost sound of mountains

endless and timeless- land of wisdom and elegance

my homeland is burning to fire- celestial light

dreamland is into icy rocks white- clement

you the mysterious belodovia- your door is unlocked

your love and power is free- I wish I passed threshold and entered

 you the woman of fire hold my hands – the energy filling my body

sorrow peak of desire-amber pyramid- narrow and scarped

the moon is a bearskin- gazelle is its friend- my only fellow is silence

a lightning inside of me is flowing to a child- scented flower

near the blue lake where huge pines hold a grudge against the sun

a fawn- spring bird- witch-hunter and the crazy rifle

who is that sleeping baby in my dream, hunter or prey

crabgrass on inaccessible mountains is hair and beard of the earth

white haired hills bow to blue lake- then love dance starts

ice of the sky is being broken- drum is crying- horses with their red buckles

fire reaches to upper world- dream turns to real

me- inside the circle, out of the triangle- blue collar

I was the last gazelle being a shield onto drum’s chest

the shaman headed mad knob was beating me

with a nice pain I was shaken and awaken

expostulate on god

 in the dance of moses and bower as whirling

we stoned the devil by cursing

the rod tied to a cross in the lost times

suffered in the garden of mary, jesus

as searching for a sip of mohammed

trouble of beheaded hüseyin is ali the lion of desert

cursed fruits of vintage in heaven

rib of adam is crushed, his angels are reptilian

strokes in cold waters are savage to lives

they were tang of our patience, restless in our hearts

god of storms

akdağ and yeşilırmak

my fellow is

pure and voiceless

waking up with a crow

on behalf of heroines

oh crikey

teshup, god of storms

stole water from a well

he lost his legs and arms

dragon god is ferocious

heights and rivers tremble

eurasia and amasya write epopees

for mustafa kemal, for the sun and moon

storm of era – escapee wind

the first cry of my voice –first spring

the last mountain algae I kissed

flowers bloom on my lips

in cherry and red apples time

every sacred kiss was warm

flower images flapping around

honey of bee, red crane- man of the roads

anger is black-tobacco is yellow

tears of mary

way of wine is laid with mines

roaring silky river

night turns to ice

what is the point of seasons

sun of afternoon is still harvesting

with its short life and long shadow

wind harvests the anatolian crops

water purifies its hair in mirrors

which king whose hands are washed by love

is a blindfolded enormous butterfly

claw of poetry is a fire heart

a forsaken dining table, a tale home

a hidden endemic flower of eden

darkness and cruelty are blind dwarves

our hopes are higher than mountains

we stood over a spring

and built turquoise domes

pull the golden globe down –out of season

force your tears back when they are dried

tear your poetry notebook and your fate

is it possible for phoenix to scratch his eyes out

his hair is feminine and soft like sands

neither feather nor tuff but pollens of fire

   oh the stormy love – ginger yellow

bird of the crumpled love is mournful

teshup is lost-mountains and rivers of sorrow

turquoise lake borabay-elmasiye-baraklı

flag of love on the bastion of harshena –red and white

ripe ear corns and blue hayfork

gökay the wise owl-seek refuge in wine

elder man asked inside with his blue eyes

oh my son is the war over

the forefinger of god

there was not last omen through future without first

god made a sign on the anvil of love

nailed your teeth then put the devil inside you

first evil ate a piece of rosebay as if balkara

dearest of the heart in sugar spring

whose load of peace blew ash of far horizon

wind of fire embraces and pats the copper night

kisses of heaven rain, moon light is stud

demons deal with their drops of fire

sahara was empyrean; we made love on a craft

for being near to angel of milky way

and forefinger of the god

eve should be winnowed into the air – beaten in mortars

the rib of adam is a hidden kite

 we worship to a drop of wild water that should be loved crazily

the god illuminating our ways makes the light blind

we are rich to be none in nonentity

wizard of love, healer hanging down in rags in sky

root ways in a dream – hope is the secret on his forefinger

we are the source of light in an eternal and timeless orbit

a drop of water

white dreams tailed to rhythm of love

time of motley grapes and sparrow with rose beak

large celestial cloud leaned on flat mountains

forties crashed forty times into the first spring of water

they are smutty, bloody eyes should be touched

do not look with an evil eye; do not make me blind, my inner eye shines

falling from this fire to my share is a piece of ember

magma of poetry is mighty into the fire

shirin on the mountain kaf is the blue on the arm of spruce

the soft knee of a wet and offended cat is burnt down

tear giving blood and life to the dead rain is witness

face of a cadaver smiling to the droughty requiems is net

a whole era is lying down at full length

hunchbacked step of stairs – beating evidence

a blind broken key, winder tongue, fez of imam

mine is the footfall of a confidant rabbit

that frightens the hunter; eye and iron sight, I am fallowed

close your hazel eyes – lie down on matrix

flip your hair remaining of your yesterday’s dream

hold your earlobes, shut your ears

open your ears and lobes wide

wintertime, my moustache and beard is icy

through a divine breath the ice of life is thawed

eddy, oblation, knot of a shawl, gipsy basket

oxeye, besni, boiling black grape wine

water of a prayer rug running down the cheek of beloved

lucid like poison waters, then I shall cry inside

men of chukurova utter blasphemies

moldy tongues of mold – satin fur of oat

as the tunnel in bolkar is running to sky of earth

the first locomotive sliding on rails quietened

naked piston shuttles on the old way

dawn is the fellow of the life, opening into pandora

sound of a pipe sings a song and brushes my hair

   I have stood to the night, crisp licks my chest

passagers of south give good news on the window

I am pregnant with a poem,

craving heartily, my body is a basket of images

I long for imaginative peach, apple and cherries

my body is the light of a lightning shivering

my heart is the lost land of the god, ancient quick

sclera leaking out heartbreak is celestial water

the thing joining me to you is not delirious rivers

a drop of water flowing to the heart


a huge “holy yes!…”

echoed for a bunch of love

the camel loaded with its fate onto the back

buried sorrow and neurosis inside

it had an illusion and kissed the dust willingly

he melted and revived just to spite those voting no

and checked the truth through himself

then headed towards bloody facts – by dying out

his corpse recovered so well that he went down

drinking the wine of betrayal and loyalty

it slavered over his sorcerer dove- crazily

he slept in the streets and deserts

then woke up in his dream, liberty was clemency

he turned towards an unfinished love – cried

in a drop of ocean swam a few strokes to death

what is the reason of your daring and fearless nudity

your strong voice and steel heart is free

your enlarging great shadow never settles

your eyes and wings feeling my oats are my dignity

I get undressed for a thousands time on the anvil of soul

mine is an utopian era and a sacred love

shivering in the light of a thunderbolt unconsciously

pliers never open my teeth; let your lips take on their own

rose of love- dream fractures is my body, sorrow is honey bubble

kiss, touch and then create the mountain kaf with your borrowed heart

yours is a kind of ripple being aware of awareness

deadly ethereal love, birth pain, fear of being created

I must save the inner savoir, it is the only way to get rid of him



house of soul

pearl of an oyster

bush bloomed

hey voyager dervish

send your voice to mine

then everywhere brighten with the light

carried by your voice, then sky breaks up

broken stars are just like sweet corns

let them fire and pop inside our mouths

 once efes got cold with a breath

of the peace birds with winged hearts

wine of şirince boiled down to heart sore

I drank you sip-by-sip beauty of island

for ballads bled aloud I cried inside

and nestled in voice of red poems

I was scratched in a lost age many times

I wish I were seed for canaries, need of loves

my tea was brewed under the sun of fishermen

you were not here I got my share

then held on to your white shadow

the whole universe and dreamland are narrow for us

there was a full moon where hopes dashed

lip mark of a lost city

an undiscovered call invites me

I washed on the skin of sun, purified

holy rose lake, healing crops

shaman, the god with castanet of music and dance

fire is blue; altars were wrecked one by one

prosperity came and shahmaran reared up

light of the darkness in bunuba land

elixir of love, verenika I adore you

god inside me is surprised, earth and sky is at peace

you, the love of the lost city, charming soft fard

golden tooth of the full moon, girl of the white rocks and island

I drink chica and chew coco leaf from your mouth

while I trace, water seek for a new course

let us go beyond the sacred river and mountains, flower of era

men of taikus and sons of the sun, Incas

mayas fermented the lake from china to machine

efes, lip mark of a lost city, worth kissing rocks

we hallowed the love, a thousand jack men, and the hittite sun

atlantis is dawn; anatolia is homeland and brothers in semah

scent of a mother

her love was for everyone, smart on his wedding

water burning in fire was poor

mum was light for the village she was born in

her palm was closed, her skin was wrinkled

my elixir was scent of mum and her milk

the mill tumbling in the water of soul

melancholy in a lost love

the most precious is the love to mother

fear of death in runaway days

the world revolves, I feel dizzy mum

however, nothing changes, time is a sculpture made by a shaman

how many children were left orphans by the war

the voice coming from distant stars is blue exile

mum’s cry was stunted and silent

she was a drop of water in oceans

my feelings do not turn to green mum

actually my fancies deceived me

I got lost in the night, you were my eyes

                                                                                               my mother was buried into touching ballads

yet I am with you every moment, you do not exist

your grass green eyes falling to my dreams

your calloused hands, water in a golden cup in time of fallow

her silky touch was a pain, a longing

I extend my hand to branches; my palm is full of your hennaed hair

the eye looking down upon, her every breath is a fountain of wisdom

if they said “what a pity”, I would cry my heart out

rivers and water birds are core of my heart

roses of ısparta were hushed, carpets were hurried

ginger blinked her eyes in crannies silently

god of the scents is the healing scent of a mother

black mamba

two mothers of a child

giving birth and bringing up

that shadow woman in the mirror

hung on a clotheshorse

sculptor under the wise rain

picks fire from his heart

when the capital poet sneezed

the moon quakes, oriels are ruined

we are all hypnotized by horror

greasy rope is black mamba

poisonous green, femininity is victory

love is burnt sorrowful colour of life

your eyes are source of energy mamba

your eyes are as precious as water

lick the water; kiss the soil, snake of nile, black mamba

why do we need war – let us dance

vultures besieged to the passageway of time

elixir of death and roses of blood is beamless time

boss-eyed and enigmatic things patted our souls

latin beauty black mamba is in diurnation

matter of sleep and death

a cobra is dancing imazighen

reptile and steel eyed headwaters

face to face with the first twilight flower

yellow master of desert black mamba

akuna never knew his father

his no name mother is hidden under a stone

he sucked his creamy finger

being used to be pampered – let us drink tequila

elevated poems are banned; teenager bite love

side effects of dreams were sleep walker

breeze stirring through the breath of summer

that crossbred girl was a magnificent bomb ah

exploded – danced with its tongue black mamba

worker bee from el paso molests to the sun

sea is washed by the moonlight

when your eyes were blue I was swarthy

we worship to thousands of children and flowers

your eyes is a mirror so that stars can brush their hair

demure scent of graveyard is marijuana

akuana, the trace of the purple sun, was sick and weak

death is gravity, palm tree with amber head

gets lost like a wind rose on your shadow being an old fall

thousands of sacred blue songs and a baby cry

ophelia was the last angel- the lightest blue was turquoise

sugarcane-yellow tobacco-ron-salsa-tango-samba

are you ready for an endless journey, black mamba

the last kariz digger

life at the zero point, centre of the universe

water on the burning water, blood inside capillary

kariz is labour, track of civilization, heart of uyghur

my source is god mountain, my horizon is turfan

man of yuanmou, beijing or kokturk

name of the girl is rose, boy is soul, and I am brother dursun

tong su of yarnaz, sadır the kashgartsy wrestler

great love of eurasia, the silk road connecting me to you

rice, tea, grape, sparkle, torch, my two eyes

I searched for my roots in the oil lamp in kariz, we need peace

“sons and daughters are all one heart at the storm time”

they are bonding the new wall and the last kariz by dancing

kariz beauty arzugül sing a mulan song, lake on the moon

the blue bird dying during morning sport! do not call me, my sky is empty

neither wine of kariz nor slanting eye

taoist shaman mother is dancing for harvest, what a lovely tile

phoenix with golden wings bit the tiger in north savannah

I looked down on from altays, to the dream fire, hunter was shot

he was washed in a pot, burnt and his ashes were flown to sky

in the darkness of river I watered my blue horse, my night was calmed down

the last kariz: ancestor tracks, thousands of flowers bloom in the cem ceremony- lovers

almond eyed badegül, honey leaks from words, sorrow is bairam

eye of my heart bled, I cried inside and melted gram by gram

why we need captivity, I am free; each chain is a broken arm

a tale of love

when the golden candles lightened

“sky is love, earth is passion”

fire birds glances with their eyes of heart

wild colt runs horse head with death

even if the sun lose its speed, hours do not stop

blue winged birds are the alas of heart- luna

is the one blowing both hot and cold

peace and sorrow are quite close to us

freedom is intractable – crazy

land of poetry eternal and timeless

you shall burn in the fire of love

the pigeons are whirling again

universe is dreamland, good morrow to creatures

elegiac döne

“who cried here at dawn

there are tears on the grass…”

I am döne with my braided golden hair

you are veteran taborer coward nomad land

we were the last yuruks on bolkar plateau

I spun wool with a spindle whirling

winded hanks, suffered a lot smolderingly

do not worry my gallant, the sun returned its home

tell me your love, my heart is on your side.





honey of love

age of gazelle

shaman dance

devoted shall smile

in the floral valley

the rain shall let up

ballads are blithe

 salt is whirling semah in a cave

a full moon on the top of ılgaz

a donkey on the threshold, looking tamely

there is an evil eye trace on its eye

your friendly eyes are childlike

a floral rain drops

poetry and art are always right

eldivan village in elmacı

nazım and kemal tahir

twill floral fabric in dungeon

flower is hidden his valley

from çankırı to çankaya

a long walk is kemal love

sometimes on foot, sometime mounted






holy mother

doing shaman dance

day lasts more than a thousand years

mother naiman’s hair is

red hot sun and forty brave men

commander of oraz, drooping willow

crescent, my moon headed angel of love

fire in the iron dust, kumiss in goat skin

snowy white- blotless, mare’s milk is our juice

our faces of altai reflect to shining lake of light

red tug of war flaps, the white headed colt

shall be a victim bending its head in front of the tomb

cry to the old wise dervish with white beard,

cry for your hopes, glide from rocks; do not go for nothing but osh

mount suleiman is the tear of aisa, make a wish, three is fine

rose falls on veil and white neck, during the cool morrow

the beauty having beauty spots on her florid cheeks wanders on her feet with anklet

her smiling spring like eyes ogle by smelling the far

what kind of loves you fell down, how many epics you penned in chains

the great manas, mankurt without beam, apple worm at the pace of a snail

the sun is on the hope tree and an apple falling from tree on its shadow is a life

sons of tarkana valley, kirghiz girls, summers with poppy corn

altai- freedom through the mane of a horse, phoenixes and geese dance

they song ballads with an only voice screaming, burning – reeds are side by side

rose and the family tree of poetry are lives,

the eye of my heart cried- I flew down gram by gram

epic kubaba

you; god woman kubaba, your breasts are black grape baskets

lord of uranos (god of the sky), the first slave of gaia

quiet voice of the lightning wings of fire, milking the blue clouds

seed of the storm god teshuba, land of kizzuwatna

a drop of blood from the crazy river, red wine flew from the truncated head

you were not at the first posterity war, which tough god created you

a snake derived from the shadow of the family tree and hung onto your throat

vagabond kumarbi of hattusash made the love bleed with cuneiform

love that is the marriage of soil in hurri land, ivriz horse

poet mates with angel, first spring is in white bed

thunderbolt falls down; bread and water burn

beauty of troja is like a nuptial night, six titans are born

delirious kubaba evolves out of her fetus and milks love

she buries her hennaed placenta, red river bleeds

she removes her rib and makes a scythe, then sharpens it in her bosom

she castrates the sky father, squeezes his testicles and takes his breath away

kronos of the second generation releases his sperms inside his sister

she is shackled by her fate, swallow them drop by drop

soul distils from the third eye, fair zeus is born

zeus, the one avoiding being swallowed; the one whose mother is a sinner

alulu drinks a mug full of poison and becomes anu’s slave

he catches her foot and pulls it down from sky and prays the mother, bites his knee

sheds seeds inside; his knee becomes a phallus, unravels from his perforated skirt

then he tells “I put an infertile seed inside of you, do not be glad to drink it

I made you pregnant slowly and released to the nature as naked as a jaybird

teshup, the god of the lost storm will be born and then rivers will turn to green

you shall regret and be defeated by the sun and the moon

radiant power is of the sky, oracle is of the head in that place where everybody revenges

messenger hermesius carries the sky of atlas on his shoulders, at every turn

in the lost house where big breasted cybele dreams with nymphs

 his heart is a ginger bud, she bites the night then the night breeds in dawn

gilgamesh anoints his reed and waters in the blind hole of hurrie

dusty rose of hittite yellow hair and pathways that tied into a braid

shining sculpture of kemal, cradle of atlantis, turkmen land is narrow

there are evil eye traces in your eyes and your lacrimal lake babbles like rivers

angel of eyes odatita falling in my dreams dies, resurges and looks at the moon

sacred shaman blood kumiss or wine is drunk during the migration time

a feast starts, whirling fire dance, medal for gallants

the one falling us to the endless ways is not iliad but epic manas

the sky kissed the earth in the pupil of anatolia and gave roses

an inner marquee is dreamland, an epic outstaying many civilizations’ welcome

my heart, the capital and the shelter of matriarchal gods was the house of love

cried as she was kissed

a child in karbala

cries with her beady eyes

in the field of rainbow

ballads bleed without love

we are dervishes of lost time

on the last lip mark, burnt

the child stood breathless

searched for her toy and waited

in the place where the sun went out

when she found cluster bombs

as the soldiers arrived, she got lost

drop her bread and troubled

her eyes were wide open and bright

she was rueful but a joy in her eyes

her big, smutty and coal black eyes

focused on the remediless and lost morrows

she offers her voyager dreams and hopes

while dead yankees play soccer with truncated head

angels rebelled and were revived in the fire

baby meriem was only at one

she did not live a life; a red hankie was tied to her coffin

naphtha rained and mothers fired their hearts

loaded and fertile breasts dried up

rivers went dry so they milked clouds

oh blue clouds, from which sky you fell down

the nail of the universe was pulled out; love is from earth to sky

anatolia and vietnam is the sound of a mace and victory of a fall

while the moon was hanging in the last night, death machine

old beaten commander was sad; tied his boots

while looked at the postcard, he remembered his own child

as he was kissing the white bird and the children dying in cradles cried

guilty and loser; peace was in fronts; ran and gurgled


hector! hector! hector!

ask the wine and the fire who we are

the heartsick spartan of troja, the victor

the evil of the sacred lands of fire and wine

which god can splash water in your ashes? blood juice

which orchard’s unripe grape are you? love duty

hector! hector! hector!..

ask the lights of lost time who we are!

aegean eyed angel, golden earrings and nose ring

 defeated commander pepe groans in intepe

let us drink ofrenion wine on the table of homeros

white eftalia is the golden coin of life

lovesick blond daughter of mount ida, shahmaran

their scarlet horses are not only horses but brave steeds

hector! hector! hector!..

ask the sacred loves who we are!

quack mounted troops, sword-shield

are you a fish frying in ember?

forehead and embrace of çan boğaz-intepe

bare-naked trojan mother aeneas lying down

mating time for sheep – vintage season

erenköy is poetry land; drink a pot of dervish blood

I was the one steeping in the fire

I was the skin tanning in the sun of hittite and dry cold of assos

hey great hector! hector! hector!..

ask the horse headed anatolia who we are!


our ancestors lived when we did not exist

our grandsons will live when we are gone

life is beautiful with us, endeavour is blessed

our juices are vigorous, burbling

mountains, stars and our hearts are clamped together

hands reach to the eternal, kernels are meaty

soil is sacred; peace and love are fair

join the army of wise men, run and scatter around

the love for mustafa kemal is the mightiest

the bright face of anatolia, beyağıl








for lives


life to life

avar to avar

sheenful fish

pickle in soda

while burning the sky of van

 van gogh quailed in the art

the hennaed hand of bride-curly mountain

children suck tired breasts

the coves are like the head of a buffalo, not a monster

 yellow fall colored bee- fertile clouds

trenched terraces in layers on slopes

a cooperation of stars-sacred nemrud, an urartian kariz

an old deserter with his stringy white hair and beard

hung his old boots from their throats-torn postcard

“per curiam” “it was seen” “it was posted”- let out

“imperialism is a paper tiger” bat is bloody sack

balcony pleasure is a witness and cerement hangs on a clothesline

taking his colour from a palace, persian sail is in red blood

blue-green cattish eyed beauty- a sleepwalker in her shadow

while shehriban eyed shahmaran is in a blind alley of a lake

evil monster- tramples down the spurred gilgamesh in his water bed

poet- for the love distilled from fire- writes freedom verses

ah tamara

ours is a crazy love, tamara

allusion is captured in fire, silent yell

a bark is steering off after the flood- noah

whenever we avoided of the moon, we eclipsed to the sun- ah

silk road- straw yellow- venus

“war makes people familiar”

says uncle sam on behalf of us

as dead blood flowers blossom

in a blindfold or graveyard

if there remains anyone to be familiar with

enemy of hopes, captured dreams

they are the vultures of black africa

hungry, homeless and captive children of lumumba

dark and weak fingers pull trigger

blind bullet whistles on an eye mark

love for nile and lion of desert, tuareg

life is blood in the fire of fresh dreams

the fire of a darky is the soul in sclera

the girl being offered to the guest, to be circumcised

untouchable family tree san-bushman

from far away, from different dreams

three red apples, sunny faced white ararat

the utopia I brought up with my own hands

the first warp of the mill, the last water

blond bride spins the dreams in ballad

then urartu from the familiar language of rugs

then the time embroidered with madders

the hero burning in his own fire

while the dawn breaks, the lost god nemrut

mount suphan whose peak is covered by an anxious cloud

the last breath of eternity, akdamar

ah tamara, my cat, blue eyed van

poor tamara

 the mother of anatolia, tamara

coolness under the shadow of ankara sun

the space of the mind is darkened and burnt

a feast with caucasian mimics

even ebilov’s death is comradery

ah tamara- poor tamara

mobilization and enlightenment

on a motley horse back a bride with veil

country side of motley horses alaçatı

the west having only one tooth

assaulted the humanity

ah tamara- poor tamara

çakici fed the cock

with his worn-out rifle

then he swore heavily and went

below the belt, above the minaret

ah tamara-poor tamara

master plumber, wise man-mustafa

it was the last fall he made a notch in the world

loves ended-he had nothing to give

the black sea flow into the light source of blues

the earth bled- earth flower is grey black

ah tamara-poor tamara

the hand of light joining us to you

is the endemic centaurea

headachy- lovesick mountain, ararat

a couple of living things- the last call for the tuffoon

caucasian beauty- ankara never forgets you

ah tamara-poor tamara*

(*) Tamara: The wife of Ibrahim Ebilov and the mother of anatolia



I was a dream in my dream and swayed this summer

I wrote an amulet in muskat – poetized

voyager dervish is lovesick – white rose

your black brows and eyes smothered a fire

how many seasons did your olive eyes changed

tuesday quakes in a rowboat – salalah

sultan is a blue bead – mashallah

a thousand and one stars of millennium fall down

my fault dislocated – ashes of an earthquake fire the rose

ocean is a drop of tear – dagger wound

candle yellow dates smells steam – love epilepsy

“why do your natural kohled eyes need kohl”

yet those eyes worth all the almonds of the world

the bloody dawn flower of the persian – sleep baby sleep

all the rivers run to the persian gulf –  aqua rosae

arabian girls hurt hearts – my life is sacrificed for fatima

camel racing in desert – children running through time

my heart shines; shahmaran hang onto my throat

the horses of poetry make the far near – well bred

poetry whose arrow and spear are bloody – hennaed eye lash

a guerrilla child of dofar – with his beaten hand by the age feels helpless

indian sea is hope – ocean is the empty cradle

dates in the garden of sultan gabus – pomegranate is my past eternity

black mountains are naked – fire – one of my eyes is sparkle, other is ember

my black beauty – let’s travel around the ocean without rod

middle east the sperm circus

rambo, of what dream’s bastard are you – lying with the war

my flesh is dead in an unwritten poem

my cerement is in a war of sharing the middle east

I have swum on a drop of dew

in the fruit dream of this wild sperm circus

on bloody arrows and guns

the burning ones are the eyeholes of a mother and a son

deepness of their eyes lighten the world

the ecstatic god losing his throne for the sake of a woman

the warrior breaking his chains every night neighing

the man drinking gushing blood of the victim before he dies

through the voices of the dead breaking the silence

temblor under the soft light of the squeaky bed

the bloody uniform of the commander greeting his victory

someone lighting up his wet cigarette with the sun

and the last of the living draining the life

would run along the eternity, savage

head pimp searching for a woman

to play with a handful of fire is

a jade living in my chest

yet I am not the same as

the one coming to the graveyard of blood roses

I was the last warrior revolting

you were coming on a horseback in scarlet dawn

tropics were following you

a line of light in your hands, holding onto the life

those are the screams of carlos of ecuador

today is the hatred remaining from yesterday

the hatred in its flame poet al-cahez died

the rainstorm on the roof of the first image

challenging to the severe storm

the blind light lapsing into its own flame

the blue inside the yellow skinned green

war is to drift off to a rusty fatal sleep

a psycho sailor coming from the dead sea

the flirtatious harbour inclined to the whoredom

it sings songs savouring

and makes love during the mating time of sheep

with the sailors coming from the sea

a plentiful life means a petrol field

her flesh like steel shine, the fire of a volcano

a bloody hand drew the victory on to the sky

someone should pay the price for the silence

some ones kill the children and loves

the crackling is a deadly vulturous depth

you the holy bitches and fatuous warriors shut up

bombs spitting blood

tyrants canonizing power

the lost address rock – head for the border

the geography of death is covered by naphtha

some ones kill all of us

some ones make the sun bleed

full moon cannot be seen in nights anymore

everywhere is screaming – the howls of vultures and jackals

loneliness and clay is the homeland of terror

your blind civilization is the epitome of vandalism

  where are the heroes of that silence

where are the hope and the honour of the destitute

where are the mighty ones whose names are engraved in our minds

where are you the magnificent deceased people

the blind and speechless witness of the way

the drunken god of the Iceland

that crowd and the violin

smothered by the offing of the science

lost children and fish

that endless flood of the sharp light

and the almighty hand of eternity

all of you risk your hearts

walk down the mountains and get to sea

smiling and crying until satiated

actually you saved us

we built that house you lived in

does the woman you love

love me too

we are revived as we kiss

the harvest time

an ululation is worth a thousand missiles

in the matrix of the soil

an ill-timed seed

the volcano of  a rose

the eye watching your steps

the big talk breaking the silence

we are dervishes on this road

we are the poems coming out of the cave

the poet biting and kissing the rainbow

dreams inside the mounted hurricane

tear drops into the fertile soil

the future coming into existence as it dies

pick up the remains left

it is almost time to go

make peace right now

silk necktie

nazım* was a poet having the luck of the devil

homesickness, prose and verse

the silk necktie choking the collarless shirt

is made from wool of life

big and fertile breasted goat

and soaking honey from her horn

the light whose foam is heart eyed is tragic

undress me with your eyes, then hoop and take me

pinked shirt, tired typewriter

redwings walking stick remaining from shaman

I watered turfan with endless poems

so that the water in the first kariz doesn’t spoil

silk road joins me to you

manuscript for the beady-eyed girl

adoration – doctor galena of votkinsky

the blue river stumbling four times

the womaniser heart burning like kerem

diseased poet in the womb of poetry

others is the pain of dawn, you are beyond of everything

my day in front facade of the night

her puckering lips as sucked

the one tracking the darkness with a couple of eye

the tree of life shimmering for water and love – granatum

in his graveyard without a sycamore and country

the life whose bridle is sweaty – white jade

a silk tie cracking the boll of poetry

the rose woman giving nazım four lives

happy is the seven crazy years passing with nazım

horses of poetry will come – keep open your rosy doors

before the earth and sky were covered by a quilt

(*): The first name of the poet Nazım Hikmet Ran means “poetry”


with the longing of crispy seed bagel

prime minister ecevit died in disappointment

seagulls are dancing; go to the seaside

the most atrabilious of blue is indigo sky

fresh bagel and tea appease hunger

paper and inkwell connect foreign lands to homeland

you should buy a book, a newspaper and a bagel


whitish seed cracked

anatolia revolted

deeply and profoundly

the tinsel nawruz festival

the city blew like the winds of spring

cool and chilly

red-blooded men shawled

they gave a boost to the mountain

from its back

love, the heart of mountains

keep the hands of children

as much as fervently

sumerian mother and hititian son

tell the good news of civilization

in the very location

kemal pasha sent thousands of complaint

to the universe

from his grave

may holy shaman and

the sky god bless us

from enemy’s malice

we are çaglayan in tandogan

we are kubilay, one of the soldiers

of troop 57

roust reared up

the moon quaked, the star burnt

from ashes

poetry is a drop of ocean

river is sea; sea is hush

from its words

ethereal love is aftershock

heart burns through

the ember of the love

the army of wise and

enlightened scholars coming from

the crack of dawn

the dawn broke in alsancak

mothers wore their red clothes

through the sea coast

a victorious inner revival

in the battlements of çanakkale

through its roads deeper than the deep


it was ten feet from pendik to beijing

by train on her purple lip mark

siberia’s pants were down, kham

forbidden dream, captive mind

milked the sun on the wet rails

eye fountains gurgled

the red moon under which wind passes

the red moon on which there are hands awoke

on the bridgehead and floodgate

the mountain on which I sat down

was a wild mare

the sky neighed; its mane was a wind

nazım was river running to sea

irina was volga; tatiana was baikal

galine had ice blue looks

you were that scream inside of me

my heart turned to a mountain

I fell in love with a poem

crying as she was kissed

21 september, 06


requiem of a shepherd

çatalkaya is under suspicion

his equipage and pipe is at hand

shepherd ahmet is breathless

is march or september lucky

or twelve is accursed

dusky sergeant with his boots in ambush,

causing villagers to leave

universe is ensanguined

they shot dreams too

oh my brave ahmet

your blood is shining under the lights

a mama’s boy left orphan

sheep and lambs bleat

mourning echoes

mountains recur

blood roses bush out

not from his shroud

but from his coffin

bends of fall

sycamore was overthrown

clouds cry steadily

mother heart

the red of a fire

rose in the grave

bloody ears

mating time for sheep

no dead cries

white dream

in the last autumn in which the howling shaman voiced wind veiled herself

as the old trees taking their seasonal clothes off

children carried clothes to the naked mountains in bairam

snowy white dreams being cradle of poetry wander around prose

ballads- fairy of dreams, the love scented crocus

fair snowdrop with blue crown what can I do without you

how many lives wore out in those cob houses- who knows

the corner stone keeping hopes and construction up

variegated clothes in peristyle and pigeon seeds

I am the subject of ice cream, wild orchid

palatal delight- autumn shadow dispersed into the valleys

smiling glee- blue eyes, moirés of a lake

mountains were fire scene- the fire of shaman was burning

I warmed up with a firefly and was burnt out

I believed that your hair was a peacock

do not keep the seasons in the cages – freedom for dreams

we sing on the lips of death- red and white

roaring sea – rebellion of a spring, mustafa kemal

internal angle

blacksmith influencing water and fire

stoker walking the bellows and train

saddler processing callus and straw

belt maker weaving silk and copper

in which dream you wearied with which smiling

man is an inner journey of a tired sculpture

gibbet is a triangle in the circle

two internal angles relapse and form an external one

burning nights in a star eddy

you are the bends of an eye being dazzled, going blind

the miserable price for seeing the bride’s face, a pigeon

for the light wind, blue cloud and the white seed

for the pearly forelock and kohled eyes

my soul greens pollens even after a thousand years

you are the land of birds whistling with enthusiasm

let me show you round, see the endeavour land

you looking but not seeing let your soul take a breath in interval of angles

punica flower blossoms a dawn, a penman is arrested

scowling black frost kisses poetry; the moon is an agitator

I am in torture; my teeth are dead nettle- moss

undress and come

ferment of love and peace, an olive branch

madder of life, honey of a date

three sinner offers: tree of love

enduring juniper holds onto bedrock

white poplar leaf by leaf

I become a book and am read

drooping willow carries grapes

kirkit sings and weaves a carpet

it becomes wine and fills the glasses

a great poet –his centenary sycamore trunk is free-

is sanctified under his inner shadow

he wears reds and whites

then leans on a cypress in the graveyard

the first kiss of the summer, inner worm of an apple

snow butterfly kissed snowdrops

whose roots are deep, flowers are young

sanctified ancestors’ land, central asia

the whitest tree of asia: acacia

in the light of lost times

an eye trace in my eye

my tongue is sharper than a sword

my neck is thinner than a hair

when I arrived at the straight bridge

my throat boils down to suffer

four big tacks: cross

oh the cross, my fate

come to me by ambling

nobody knows its real colour

crimson sun, green hadji

sacred vermillion of mercy

the fire kissing water

punica granatum

side by side, fire by fire- the love crown

undress and come, let us dance

always hide me inside of you

the most naked of trees

beloved tree

tear bottle

I am away from a window to love, living in exile

a burnt red carnation has shot forth

as you sleep on a petal, I am a sleepwalker

my place is blind window, tearful wall and a bier

I love and perceive my utopia

the beaten cock of the fight, rosy comb

the chest girded by roses, steep slope

the rattlesnake whose body finds strangers odd

the life rooting in the womb of agony

touchy and faraway love bird singing inside of me

anger is paralysed in my pupils and his star falls

his white bird in the skyish light of the black house, water voice

he sleeps for yesterday and goes to a silent day; voice becomes timid

artless wind takes me to you, shivering

then we lie on the last leaf of autumn

mirabilis jalapa has panic attacks, night tells fortune

pregnant branch shoots forth with every kiss

tree puts the moves on his shadow, peccant

do not drink blood from a terracotta pot. kiss and cry

 starling flock is at the edge of mountain and clouds

at the edge of hope for life

a scarlet rose has shot forth

four walls is over troubled, red of golden

procession of poems, my mind is captive in a cage

a trap through golden bars

love was a kind of insaneness and enslavement

my love elixir is in a tear bottle

inner love is to believe crazily

every night a bird settled on my syllable

so that dead poets could feel that love

fire walks

accumulation is a mill

my heart is broken, shipwrecked

the juniper fading without love

the mind agonizing without passion

the sky of the blind is beamless

only a drop of ocean

is the lip mark on the mirror

heated night is restless

victory forgetting the win

the sun burning on my forehead

let us make love as much as we want

let us wash on an altar

away from the moon and eyes

let us have a bath with living stars

let us kiss as remains of an ash tree

we are tired of fire walks

banned water whispering, hiss

our only lack is freedom

noble jasmine is blossoming

lotus is asleep, hush

soul to soul

-dedicated to can yücel-

hit the booze father – cheers

full jug, empty bowls

papatolia, anatolia

bowls of wine, abundant

graveyard is the house of souls

side by side, at the edge

ali can and canan

hollow hatça of datça

are sleeping soul to soul

the most coolheaded power

rebellious to system

ancient marble sculpture

ways on postcards

put a knurl. do not live

  harass the fear

jack off on wet rails

blood on their checkbook

souls melt into labour

lolling out, beggar

finds fault with everyone

his tea boils but

his teapot is handleless

his mind was matured; his speech was raw

he had a heart of gold; her face was bright

 öküzgözü, küp, derdalan*

villa doluca, doru tay*

whenever wine prices increase

he swore like a trooper to shah

how about me? drunken nights

ace of hearts of poetry

su’s father

wee countess

her destiny, her husband

traces, dream and night

hayyam and the god

father can is an enigma

immortal and alone

indigo mountains

time is a hollow, tramp

iron and eyesight

load and shoot, fire!

holy shit, the private got shot

white rocks cry blood

and wear military greens

smart black crows

and white birds of poetic legion

tree of atatürk, nolina

brides cover themselves with peace

white poplar with white cerement

dawn lie down

madımak is a fire scene, ah

a stylo falling into dreams

ordered and adjudged – it was broken

it was covered with red cloud- whirled

a white bearded shaman blew

finally, he took offense at azrael

and hung his fate on a juniper without rope

so that abysmal billed poets would tie their ropes

for approaching spirit

a turk is worth to a world

so a thousand and one turkish liras worth a dollar

cullender – a handful of ski(nny ass)

to the moon – feet stand up

white pigeons applaud

wings bleed in the heights

goshawk- blower’s lungs

blindfolded, beamless

beloved is the splinter of soul

anvil and spark, the hunter was shot

* Turkish wine brands

yesterday was pregnant for tomorrow

violet eyed anatolia

where is the humanity

children suck the sun

of rosy breasts

saturday mothers1

are pregnant for new losses

beamless night where is the moon

where are the stars

fields, factories, rotaries

our fate the eye light of which is faded away

 is in blood

elbow grease like rivers

lost hope in the last fall

little joys like the man in the moon

labour is captive

where is happiness and light

the moon wrinkled and cried

stars died away

bread, an autumn fire

mature ear, emmer

a mountain swallowed the sun

a purple night swallowed the mountain

where is the scent of a woman

where is the scarlet of love

ballads were burnt

during nawruz time “ah madımak”2

a blood lake in the rose month

flood of fire, blue fervent

cursing the war, praising the peace

take and throw the gun my child

by arm is pillow, my hair is quilt

a worth kissing ear for love

the father poet touched the life again

in the drought season

yesterday was pregnant for tomorrow

the flower of dawn revolted again

freedom is the cry of a baby

a vigorous main circle

turquoise happiness

flag with the star and crescent flapping

1. Saturday Mothers of Turkey are the women who are the mothers of thousands disappeared detainees between May 1995 and 1999. In August 2012, they gathered on Galatasaray square for the 355th times.   2. The Sivas Massacre (Turkish: Sivas Katliamı, Madımak Katliamı) refers to the events of July 2, 1993 which resulted in the deaths of 37 people, mostly Alevi intellectuals, and two hotel employees. Two people from the mob also died. The victims, who had gathered for a cultural festival in Sivas, Turkey, were killed when a mob of radical Islamists set fire to the hotel where the group had assembled.

rosy widow istanbul

my eyes are gazed upon your sky

my first looks are graved there

it is I looking out of your eyes

there are evil eye traces in your eyes, ancient

my flesh bleeds on old sculptures

 I was burnt and cried inside, montuesday

maiden’s tower is a tear bottle, a cypress

her rosy moon is red and white bridal dress is her cerement

above me, below golden jewel, rosy widow

to the death – are you in love with yourself istanbul?

silver water running inside of you; cypress drilling the sky

the miserable blue swan flowing into eternity

is a graceful istanbul girl, magical tulip age

low heels dances on high pavements

her toy is a pinecone, peg top and marbles

 as her booty shakes, my head whirls, so does the earth

you tania in island-moda and villages and in beyoğlu

the king and sultans slept in a dream, they begged on their knees

oh fellows the city through which a river runs was besieged from the inside

azans and bells are calls for the mystical love and inner invasion

my eurasian angel, my rosy widow asks the world to dance

long live Istanbul, the beauty of the world, remaining from magnificent ages

bleeding poem

I am the one born at the edge of war. dawn bleeds

I have no ancestor, even a name, furious river

even if I have, it was lent to me to be taken back

how many wars passed over this love

the golden circle of peace lights and reminds of the doomsday

“alas meriem, meriemti, where is my meriem”

red clouds in a celestial fire, shahmaran, küheylan

brother hüseyin whose head is in damascus, body is in kerbela

“ah martyr hüseyni, hüseyni is me, me is hüseyni”

my heart remained in bilesuvar, nomad reyhan

wagon houses in imişli, azerbaijan is fire scene

hey nagorno-karabakh! my children remained in the theater of war

we settled in a black train and a bloody death mountain

that iron stack is hot in summer and cold in summer

is it possible to live without water, bread, clothes and money

my eyes flew into the teardrops of my mother

still the eye of my heart sees distances and lights, tomorrow died.

oppressed seasons hid somewhere, evanished into thin air

miserable rose suffers, the sun burns

goldfinch does not sing anymore, enduring nightingale is an orphan

we are the bud of the same spring, about to blossom

beauties of first spring are hennaed, having spots on their faces

the world is both heaven and hell, familiar

therefore, those ballads would not keep silent

so that poetry would not bleed

  your heart set up a marquee on my chest

your eye lashes are poems, read to me

this love is a shoreless ocean

cemetery of the nameless

every friday night police search is done

“good night thursday” checkmate

“a dream in a ruined house” curfew

boat schedules last changed at the time of evren

I am the rapture of fall in a grief barracks

I am in torture – but I do not feel sorrowful for that

I am vexed with the informer fellow – dagger

they fusilladed with a pen

I quailed or died – I do not think so

the sorrow spoiling the captive poem – the lost love

my eyes are on guard – a bloody hole – peep

they wonder in dawn even before crows

my eye pupils are down the slope – the drum of a shaman

I get surprised – old and wise colours are surprised, too

“look at stones of ankara”; be my auspicious one

is twelve doomed or september

hunter – wrinkled universe – his boots are in red blood

a postal comes once a decade – bleeding

his snug shadow murmurs – “halt, don’t move”

a poem written with bullet and small shot is guilt “it is nonsense”

each image is found undesirable “wanted”

arrogant courtesan of dreams is banned “he was shot”

trembling curtains are closed “game is over”

secret keeper candles burnt out in kandilli

autumn birds were appalled – the night calmed down

the moon remained hung upon the branches “shake”

you are the only one in cemetery

and high mualla

“how nice is that life, reckless

high mualla is waiting for a kiss

love for the nile

time of full moon, lost night – offended

the sun woke up in a scarlet dawn, a star fell

the earth is my love – so is the sky, pole of the love

the power of the tradition determining the future

burnt, poor, miserable and happy

and the master of black africa

the land of loves and the black

writing poems for the sky and desert,

the nile is the essence of life

the sky is thorn of a rose, bleeding

the tear bottle of africa

the nile runs to his source and hope

they whirl side by side, burning

dervish, shahmaran, twister and circle

the love for the sudan is an inner wave coming from deep

pyramids, traps in desert, are houses of the god – desert hot

angels absorbing the sun will pick up the gold

I leaned on the stars and the moon in the depth of the red sea

who was the victim, who was the hunter? I fell in love in ambush

I got the diamond from the hand of cobra; I was hunted

jabal marah is in love with me; so am I with the nile but

I stopped for a rest in hartum and wrapped myself in white

I drank purple karkade and steeped doing greased wrestling

I was the one sucking the sun from the rosy breast of the nile

omdurman bazaar, the place of love, dance of colours

keep on the life with reksha; greetings to water and desert

another scar on my every single cheek, the evidence of enemy

girls of baria, dinca, silluk, cunup and surma

they are aware of difference. how nice is to live together

me and the nile running, putting his arms around africa

the first line of the epopee, the last mystical favourite of the life

the yellow of date chew snuff in desert, without a camel, on foot

the read headed beauty of the red sea, meriem – to haway

black crows of istanbul in port sudan –sumeyya

the haze of the sandir tree seducing usurey – isi

on the one hand habe passage, on the other hand children of sinka

since hartumian hostess kissed the poem in a plane

milky way has been a lip mark; tahani osman is an angel of love

he murmurs a healing song at that moment, heartfelt

“my sweetheart/ my life/ my heart is with you

with the taste of our love/ my life is devoted to you

it is devoted to your love/ touch me, my fire”

I touched the history and life on the island of suakın

ottoman traces in the alluring eyes of tabow

the hennaed beauty writes poems for her hennaed hair

the hennaed bride to be circumcised, al fatah in midafternoon

after the dance and dhikr, it is time to satisfy

the inner prayer with incense and drums, the dance of ardah

we are on a long and narrow way. the nile, our poem and me

the blue eye of the water cry; a life without water is our termination

our hearts hurt in the natural life village in dinnar

savage and hospitable godya is at home and those coffee girls

surmas with their wrinkled faces, calloused hands and golden bracelets

hare lipped and rather tall beautiful girls are hungry

children of cuba blow their gums for peace, just to defy wars

yankee- white missioner- fanaticism of the crusaders; poverty and death

they distribute bibles instead of bread and water to the poor and hungry children

ah dear  children, our children whose destiny is black

their swarthy and skinny hands; armed fawning without book

they do not recognize if they really lived in darfur, they die without being sanctified

they sleep under the shadow of the sun, in the bosom of tsetse flies

hey voyager poet! can you take the photo of the poem of happiness

so that the hungry children would not be killed and roar with laughter

a naked and legal revival from the five thousand years of sleep

while the huge an d black africa awaken, white and blue fall in love with the nile

a freedom song echoes from the land of tam-tams

a wonder of civilization – the ancestor of humankind, black land the sudan

a weak reason for the hope, the master of the yellow desert – dark skinned turks

“atatürk of sudan is ahmed al bazhir” creating that ideal and

the bow and arrow of al feyturi, tacüssir hassan and muhittin faris is poetry

their javelin focuses on love – rears up – the great sudan is cleaned

sabah al hayr! sabah al nur! shukran! it is the love for the nile being experienced


meriem, my meriem turned to steam and blew away

whatever moving like a head, a body and a leg

naphtha rained in nephte and being a human was a quilt

olive eyed children at only one, dying without living,

will be come back to life again

the black snake coiled up the baby clothes

a fainted owl howls in the empty cradle

hawks, vultures and uncle sam flocked

our next-door neighbour wrestles with the death, on the verge

the shadow of the smart bomb changed his way

new pharaohs live on blood from a red cup

the unbalanced world is at the blind point of the horizon

roses of blood blossom in karbala and my heart was petrified

hell is frozen; heaven is thawed

a stark naked blood rain fell onto the desert hot and rocks

I am hunting for my mind so that I can sacrifice it to the truncated head

I loved you; I felt you through your eyes

coal eyed meriem do not leave me

hey tired and offended gods! come down to the human level

stop the death! stop dollar and yen

dirty dollar greening in screams and cries

that anger and revival suffocate you too

be parched in the embers of a baby

your full son milks blood in your own self

the republic of men

ayon oros – the garden of mary

vaccination for death, elixir is in tear bottle

my meriem, do not cry my daughter! do not cry

do not wear blacks! do not wound my heart

your mum wants love not a bomb and a broom

let us stand in love; you know angels do not cry

should there be heavenly justice and holy men

under the dead turning to soil, above the sky

an aching scream echoes from the graveyard

“meriem! meriemti! where is my meriem…”

*This poem was dedicated to one-year-old Meriem pulled into pieces by American bombs in her mother’s embrace and dying in April 6, 2003.













tablets of lilith

tablet one

in a eternal and timeless dreamland

it is I being the first creator of the universe, the great god

it is you, the first creature expelled from the paradise

the first love scraped onto a tablet and the first sin, lilith

the first garden was watered and she seduced him

she made adam en enemy of me

she was not an angel but a fire

adam burnt down and was steeped

his left rib became damp

ecstatic eve got nothing

there was lilith before eve

she was a passionate voice, my harbour and beloved

his scarlet golden hair was a sea

her thin ankles with bangle were waves

her eyes perceiving faraway had ice blue lines

she was the first female to lead astray adam

I was longing for lilith; adam was searching for meat

the love for memed- jesus-moses and david is bosh

the reason of all the wars is a female – jealousy

ambergris scented water for good luck

orientalist and clear odour

you are the first pureness of my soul

do not lose your first spring scent lilith

get married to a turkish man and deserve the garden of eden

the great kök turk warrior urungu is witness

siren was a half-bird, half-virgin and half woman

siren voices on the siren rocks, daughters of zeus

lyrics of the first song seducing sailors

the eyes of nymphs, the first source of fire

tablet two

I presented the heaven so that you would be happy

it is I, lilith – I will have no rest if adam is alive

adam sleeping around wants to have the first power

he wants to become double in adobe houses on the first farm

adam moves on lilith’s body like a stoneroller

she gets angry and writes a letter

the first spouse made of soil –the first look

lilith is the forgiver and fruitful sky

she is the sown soil yielding

hence, beneath him is she to lie

formerly did she leave me before leaving adam

she is among those expelled

she is the first prostitute and sinner

she belongs to genes and devils and

sleeps and makes love with them

she had dozens of children – blemished

tablet three

adam does not put up with being a widower

and asks me for a wish – the first sorrow

he wants me to call lilith to pavilion again

then I assigned three angels

should she not come back to me, I shall…!

hundreds of children died; she did not care

she did not love adam; nor did she cheat

as she nursed a grudge, she could not endure the pain

she bit and poisoned pregnant women and babies

it did not be enough

then lilith embraced the holy tree of love

she left the door ajar – the first key

go to the evil side – go to heaven

the first bloody sheet – loincloth – ululation

music and singing in paradise

the life is red lipstick – crisp with sesame seeds

tablet four

yet I did create the woman from man – alive

lilith sowing the wind and reaping a whirlwind

the most lustful of the loves, passionate fairy

the fieriest of the temple whores

shahmaran eyed sacred angel

before the puerperal fever

she bewitched the men and the god

dream of the children with charms and amulets

the scarlet female with rosy breasts and long hair

the first person desired, the first shaken moon of the night

be lost in the uncontrolled river not to be restrained

 the pain of love and peace is devoted to the last feministic victory

go and eat the forbidden and unripe fruit of your first passive sexuality

lilith is the first female to fight against patriarchal adam and blemished eve

tablet five

a ladybug in the confident night

fire haired – golden sumer anatolia

the devoted sacred land – vagina

bloody dream- david- john the baptist

fight for water or naphtha – my last wish

lilith ost – global farting masters

made of sand and foam, spoiled

muddy and breathless giant with a sack

his umbilicus and volcanic vent is a brothel

mortal and endless pleasure – broken key

lilith was the first snake to corrupt eve

stairs to the sky – shiftless

mystical rainbow, dew of the variegated dawn

my flame- my essence- my pomegranate- my honey bee

intimidate the lightning and thunderbolt then go

 the tree of love and wisdom, indigo sky,

the shadow and gleam of poetry, lilith

yellow amber scented spike

the angel going insane and committing a crime

red soil of the wedding night

scent of raw thyme and partridge

the deep blindness through which I idolize you

forgotten love of the lost time

the rock holding onto the roots of a juniper

connected to the life with a rope of love

kid of the celestial fancy goat

horse and spike are parallel and head down

my bride lilith with her skyish dress

where is our address rock

where is stone pillow

go to the poet to be together

come now and say yes

my dear lilith

the last tablet

tv channel (sewer)

pollutes my utopia

I was besieged

the black hole – ignorance peculiar to heaven

jade, rebellion of the scarlet horses of fire

bleeds in a chasm – my beloved dresses my wounds

the passionate love hitting me to ways

I am the ghazi kemal, the first – you are the doctor, lilith

my wound formed a crust – before strangers came to the village

I have to ride on a horse of poetry with wild mane and go to fronts

table of contents


fidel cried while you sleep anatolia mevlana they were always like this my soul rose garden, anatolia dreamland imazighen dance crazy dervish dervish of cosmos Istanbul aşukiye freesia high mualla terror the tuberculosis dying alive sway beautiful erosion tired of a dream zeibekiko eurasia sarıkamış fire in quarters eyes are siblings blood kiss a letter to a death poet dance of the shaman expostulate on god god of storms   forefinger of god a drop of water nietzsche kuşadası lip mark of a lost city scent of a mother black mamba the last kariz digger a tale of love elegiac döne fellow tarkana epic kubaba cried as she was kissed hector beyağıl monstrosity ah tamara poor tamara ocean middle east the sperm circus silk necktie bagel roust galina requiem of a shepherd white dream internal angle undress and come tear bottle fire walks soul to soul yesterday was pregnant for tomorrow rosy widow istanbul bleeding poem cemetery of the nameless love for the nile meryemti tablets of lilith tablet one tablet two tablet three tablet four tablet five the last tablet


Poet and Travel Writer

Poet, travel writer and journalist Dursun Özden was born in Niğde in 1950. After graduated from NiğdeHigh School he studied management and cartography. Then he finished the Press and Public Relations Department of Anatolian University. He obtained diplomas from “The Academy of Kırcali Balkan Folklore Institute” in Bulgaria and “Grigore Kiazim Popular Music Research Institute” in BucarestUniversity.   His first poem appeared in 1970. His poems and essays were translated and published in English, Spanish, Arabic, Macedonian and Russian.   He started his journalist career in 1976 on the Politic Newspaper of Kocaeli as a correspondent. Furthermore he worked in ISTA-Istanbul Haber Ajansı (Istanbul News Agency), Politika, Cumhuriyet, Milliyet, AA-Anadolu Ajansı (Anatolian Agency) and DHA-Doğan Haber Ajansı (Doğan News Agency).   He visited more than 70 countries and every city in Anatolia. He made researches on missed ethnic cultures, beliefs and folklores of Africa. Dursun Özden has also made researches on exchange of population and wanderers of Anatolia. He published many books on travel articles. He is continuing to write articles for Azer News, Assa-Irada, Daily News Travel, Bizim Gazete (Our Newspaper), Bilim-Ütopya (Science-Utopia), Türk Dili Dergisi (The review of Turkish Language) and Cumhuriyet Gezi (The supplement travel journal of Cumhuriyet)   Dursun Özden is the founder and supervisor of The Union of Science and Literature work owners (BESAM), member of The Travel Writers Association, The International Federation of Writers and Journalists of Tourism (FIJET), The World Federation of Writers (PEN), Turkish Press Council, Turkish Journalist Association, The Turkish-Arabic Science, The Union of Documentary Filmmakers, Culture and Artistic Association, The Association of Man of Letters and Turkish Writers Syndicate. -Dursun Özden is the attorney in Turkey of ASSAI-IRADA (Daily News Agansia), AZER NEWS (English Newspaper), DAILY NEWS TRAVEL (Italian) Representative of Turkey.   Özden’s works on literature, culture, art, tourism, language, critics and folklore are permanently printed in newspapers, reviews and broadcasted on the radio or televisions.   Published Works:   – RAINBOW FIELD (poetry) – INDUSTRIAL DEMOCRACY (research) – NEW TIME DERVISH (poetry) – THE EXTREME OF LOVE (poetry) – AFTER READING (articles) – THE BLEEDING SONG (poetry) – DON’T LET THE SONGS BLEED (In Macedonian 3 books – poetry) – CUBA IS NOT SO FAR (memory, travel) – LIPPRINT (poetry) – CONTEMPORARY STORY SELECTION (anthology) – THE LIGHT OF LOST TIME (poetry) – THE KEY OF MY HEART (essay) – THE PARADISE WITHOUT LIES, CUBA (travel guide) – A JOURNEY TO UYGHUR KARIZES (research-travel) – NAZIM OF GALINA (travel-dialogue-research) – SCARLET HORSES OF FIRE (poetry) – INVOLVED ARTICLES (articles, critics) – UYGHUR KAREZES (documentary film) (2009) – TURPAN KAREZES WE HAVEN PROFITS (documentary research, interviews) (2010) – ANATOLIA KAREZES (documentary film) (2010) – ANATOLIAN WATER CIVILIZATION (documentary film) (2011) –HOLY WATER ZAMZAM (documentary film) (2012) Prizes:   1970- World Peace of Day Poetry Prize 1977- Dimitry Blaguev Story Prize 1989- STFA, Technical Staff Prize 1996- Guayasamin Association of Cuba, Latine American Literature Prize 1999- Middle East Writers Association, Al Cahez Poetry Prize 2000- Adverse Art Review of Adana, 8. National Poetry Prize 2000- A. Biographical Institute (ABI), Prize of Cultural Research 2001- Journalists Association of Turkey (TGC), Local Press Prize 2003- The Arabian News Agency Association, Red Poems Poetry Prize 2003- Tunisian Ministry of Culture, Golden Palm Prize 2004- Azerbaijan Writers Association, Sword & Pen Prize 2005- Syrian Ministry of Culture and Tourism, Silk Road Prize 2005- China-Uyghur Autonomous Region of the People’s Republic of China, Karez Well Research Prize 2005- Russia-VotkinskyMunicipality, Tchaikovsky Citizenry Prize 2006- Mersin/Yenice Municipality, World’s Peace Day Prize 2006- AzerbaijanScienceAcademy, Turkish of World Research Prize 2007- Malaysian Ministry of Culture, Pacific Colors Prize 2009- Chinese Writers Association, Friendship Through Letters Prize. 2012- UNESCO / IHP

Contact Address:   PO Box: 10(34431) Beyoğlu /ISTANBUL

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