International Poet

This Is The Moment This is the moment when I see the dull sky sprinkle pure white flakes bending ponderosa pines fifty feet tall creating a dripping "in tune" as the sun shines through. I smell the clean air, inhaling deep within me, as I touch covered leaves of flowers frozen, no longer to breathe fragrance stifled by cleansing thereof, imbuing soft stillness, I feel, bringing peace within.

Heathen Chant Of nectar (the moss) that bacchanal perfume's lips are made, beauty and the raised choruses of mine, lewd, sensual, blithe. Like algae, odorous, glaucous you emerge, dive again (labyrinths are those brave ones) and now—aye—you part the hair the skin demands. Now—aye—now mine you respond, now—aye—now docile you are.

After The Rapture Spent, sweaty and out-of-breath We lay back and Light a single cigarette To be shared in symbolic Celebration after an intergalactic Battle between brazen faith and Foolish adventure. My tattered wings clumsily Tucked in between my back And the thin Styrofoam mattress; Your head buried in my chest And your matted hair still wet from Our midnight dip in the Styx. Who would have guessed that The heaven of our making Would be like this? .. so Characterized by the mundane, With intermittent interruptions Of surrealistic struggles for Survival: win or lose .. all Or nothing .. one day at a time. As the moon eclipses the last Sight I see before I drift off Is the withered bonsai in the Opening of our pre-war dwelling. A reminder of a time when We still dared to sleep soundly; Carefully wrapped in unencumbered Dreams in the style of our ancestors.

I Was In These Pages Without making you feel at all In lands very distant from you I raised flowers which you like I know I left you by yourself With unforgettable memories... Every so often You felt uneasy Because of my badly digested words You stayed sleepless... During successive days I dragged you towards mornings without a sun I was in these pages. I hurt you with touching songs which I liked I touched you with my poems Again and again, I drenched you With my feelings... I was in these pages. I often took you for walks On the most populated streets Of Istanbul With your heart beating Your beliefs and acknowledgments moulded time Behind blurred window panes... I was in these pages. The sky was different Light was acid Avenues were without people Streets were without soul When I lost you In the stopping of a bus... I was in these pages. I made you wait until mornings On the streets of Istanbul I made you tremble in full jolts while you dreamed During your sighs I threw your shades I...

Computer Of Love Heaven is the width of a look A look is the depth of heaven Pain is the touch of God God is the touch of pain Dream is the width of a soul Soul is the depth of a dream Light is the voice of silence Silence is the voice of light Darkness is the cry of shining Shining is the silence of darkness Rainbow is the gladness of light An idea is the dumbness of the soul Soul is an idea undraped Light is the depth of knowledge Knowledge is the height of light A steed is an animal of space A cat is an animal of time Time is space curled into a ball Space is jump of a steed Sun is the body of moon A body is the moon of love A ship is wave of metal Water is the ship of wave Sorrow is the emptiness of space Gladness is the completeness of time Time is the sorrow of space Space is the completeness of time A man is the heaven turned inside out A woman is the man turned inside out A man is the woman turned inside out A heaven is the man turned inside out A touch is the space of a man Lo...

A Shady City Relentlessly… acid rain… is falling continuously… (It had been rain some day). Street….Never lonely, shadows and shows, So, so…shady shows, shadowy streets. Muddy human souls, cruel crowds, empty bowls, hands, Smoke and fuel that provoke wars. Smokes of glory, empty of principles. A hollow, a show, a shadow and a bare plate. Empty of glory, fin secular hands. Drugs and scare, violet violence On violet dreams. Abrupt, interrupt, disrupt, sudden, rushed, a hundred feet insect falls under a car… Tongue on Tango. Argot of the dirty city, The city of the dirty money. A dirty angel… There’s a muddy injure in his small hand. Scuff, ouch, it hurts, a pain restrains me. Why me? No bread, no brotherhood, no breath… In the middle of the muddy rubbish, Only dreams of glory. In the muddy city in an empty world, I am the child, the baby, A rabbit, A bit.

The Moon Over An Old Temple From behind the temple the moon is ascending. Buddha's ancient aureole gleams on the shiny top. From a bamboo flute a lonely tune flows suspiring: Nostalgic linger of a melancholic, wagging heart! Wild grass sprouts in the slit of the stairway stones Along the road that leads to the golden-lit Buddha! The image of Buddha is getting clearer and clearer. The Living Buddha's yard is hard to see the starlight. From behind the temple the moon is ascending. Buddha's suavely sieving evening twilight and The grave, sad tune of the flute confer solace To the pilgrims, who come from back of beyond! Simple alcoves, old scrolls of painted characters! It's a heavenly renewed temple filled with mystery The silhouettes reflect the people's world in deep Pondering to become like Buddha's shiny heart! Whatever you want, just show off looking at Buddha's Image, where the cross-legged Buddha sits abidingly. Let the heavenly bamboo flute flow out its...

Assemblage Of Heavenly Blue The sky with its tinge of heavenly blue, The sky which is coherent and true. The sky so beautiful with its purplish face, The sky that can conquer the human race. The sky so sweet at lemonade, The sky that can bring the earth an adolescent grade. The sky that helps at the time of drought, The sky that causes newborn seeds to sprout. The sky that can bring crackling floods, Doing so can shed a lot of blood. The sky black and swollen near the river bank, Hungry clusters of flower expecting all they can. The drops of pelting water all hope for, The sheets of rain showers already gone. The sky with it protuberant legs stretched, The sky that can get a house creshed.

Onion I am peeling the onion The first layer is silver red Ok, itís a pleasure to help her in the kitchen An overburdened wife is a burden With children ready to go to school Myself ready for office And I peel the onion The aroma of her food is inviting I peel the next layer of the onion Layer after layer Color fades And turns white A petrified sight A beautiful morning Eyes begin to dampen Onions dampen my eyes It's not easy to peel onions A mastermind created every layer Joined them together With an art of nature And with a care of the man I go on peeling Onion has a secret It secretes dampness in eyes Something to be sorry for "Hey", she calls, "What the hell are you doing? Peel it, ya!" Layers unfold A manifold curiosity Now! It is edible! The tender innerself of the onion I take it to my lips To put it on my tongue

Elegy On the snow in blue twilight I put the moon The iced your sleeping face I shall sink it in snows With your softness With loneliness Beside trees thick with snow Recalling the time passed with you Early evening in spring Fregrance of rape blossoms Even mountain ridge As you looked dangerous In the urban lonely pigeons are flying You would still has stifled Don't you smiled at your infant, yet? Looking up Tingling The finger of the tree with snow and ice Snows- Where shall it become snow?

Peace Is A Woman And A Mother How do you know peace is a woman? I know, for I met her yesterday on my winding way to the world's fare. She had such a sorrowful face just like a golden flower faded before her prime. I asked her why she was so sad? She told me her baby was killed in Auschwitz, her daughter in Hiroshima and her sons in Vietnam, Ireland, Israel, Palestine, Lebanon, Bosnia, Rwanda and Chechnya. All the rest of her children, she said, are on the nuclear black- list of the dead, all the rest, unless the whole world understands - that peace is a woman A thousand candles then lit in her starry eyes, and I saw - Peace is indeed a pregnant woman, Peace is a mother.

A Letter In The Wind In Benumbed Weather to run, to break my fetters to smash the death that seized me so to make my way to you my princess, my princess I was still looking in the distance I still believed that all belongs to me I was still swelling out my breast happy to meet you happy to touch you when I heard already my horses neighing in nether world I was still preparing myself to welcome you I was still waving hung by the old mirror when I was told that you had left to make my way, now, near you now, when you left, to hold and embrace you! death chained me up so well that I' m ashamed of crying even my princess, my princess.

Seagulls At Night A twilight canvas barren of life prelude to the masterpiece hovers unseen upon desolate skies waiting to be fashioned. Out of darkness they emerge white winged choreographers painting circles and breeding life. Seagulls At Night soar, faithfully, indiscriminately a free form phenomenon.

The Ancient Heart My ancient heart has made a wondrous pearl of the pains passed. My mind, eagle - eyed, flies high and sees all the Darkness and the Light. The breeze of My hands, caresses the gentle Wombs haping the mountains and the plains. The notes of My thoughts flow in the air, embracing a few passing hearts, and now fade away.

The Visitor Like rain dropping into the sea like mist evaporating when boundaries disappear I grow larger and larger The shape-shifter that sets me free unveils what I hold too tightly, lives behind my masks and in them, in stones too, and mere words Faithful as a rising sun love appears dressed in light to unite with me, to create new life, when I am willing.

Illusions Noiseless wrinkles on our forehead the frontiers of history, shed oblique glances at Homer' s verses. Illusions full of guilt redeem wounded whispers that became echoes in lighted caves of the fools and the innocent.

Carried Along in the garden of love and on the day of deliverance, frisky the morning rose opens her pedals in half-lit simmering of dawn spreading her scent now the night has died on the day and it fell into its face - my Mistress' toll is taken - she started to decay loosing her scent - grandeur - and her majesty the summer too will end and the bleak debris of love it'll wrinkle like waste

At The Last Moment When words are stuck on lips Thoughts get tired and put off / Then There is no prayer and no complaint Why don' t I keep today' s prayer For the last moment? Those bells were fake That rang, Time to time Ears became habitual To hearing falsehood What was truth? What was false? Now is the time To start the journey again What is the difference between False and true? Let me sing a false prayer Prayer in dishonesty And untruthfulness in honesty Both mixed so much Cannot pray for long You closed the door That opened toward the world Now you can hit me With all your bullets Will you now squeeze me To the last drop of blood?

I Placed Stones In My Words I placed stones in my words and screamed at the ocean until i could hear them whisper over the waves I placed my soul in exile and reached through the walls to touch a world which wouldn't heed my thoughts I placed my eyes in the garden and learned to listen quietly for the opening and closing of the dew glistened rose I placed my feet upon a path and realized that i could never turn back until i could hear my words whisper over the waves

Coffee? - Coffee. I brewed it with love, showered with my kisses And poured in a mint green Thai Celadon mug. It settled there and gave me joy in intervals of one minute sips Oh, that the patch in rural northwestern Guatemala far away would bring a yield and serve me this - my perk, my morning delight, my heart's desire. And time could go on making me oblivious to cares of day, find me dancing to music I alone could hear. I have to go on with my sips, get the best from these, grab every precious moment before aroma fades and cup turns lifeless cold leaving only a bitter taste in lip-stained cup where once the coffee was so good. And so it is with feelings- nurture them take your sips to savor all the best there is in peace of mind and heart and soul. And when you sink to all time lows and sometimes hit rock bottom Do not stay there, do not give up. Learn to tread and float and tell yourself it's time again to brew a fresh new pot.