New Mirage Journal

16 POETRY
 
 
1-swallow
 
a swallow from among clouds
will explode like southwest today …
 
2-sartorial
 
I mean the rain you drop in my voice
like a cloth cut by scissors, bridling its mare
and my hand sniggering in lust
though a smell of a banana
 
in an old part of this city, all alone
in hotel rooms and on brass beds
dirtiest hours of my face
a sartor with winter night face
 
3-eternity
 
your eyes are so silent, a butterfly
flowing inside me, like a velure river
an underground city, a station
where words by-pass
 
a gillyflower diminishing when smelt
a sky wearing the lover out in me
maybe we are living to lose
this eternity, we two
 
4-nacre
 
neither do I have a rosebay to touch
nor a sky to love
only I have is a street
that I pass through the revery
 
my heart is like a ridgeway
that I fold myself its end
a hanky, my lover, lace is north wind
from which my tears pour nacres
 
5-mirrors
 
I am scattering your dower with a future chest
I find a word from anywhere I touch
dirty laces everywhere
an empty frame, licorice, a silent aria
 
tomorrow they change for yesterday, that I don’t love
for darkness, for the past, pellmell
it is life, I say myself, just life
I must say, no happiness without tear
 
6-lily
 
just I existed
but no one
in place of me
 
a lily was bleeding
in pure whiteness,
like your hands …
 
7-ash
 
we were ash with you, not fire
most beautiful of two mouthed women
much slimy spinach of my meal
an alienation in each quiet
 
I was sentenced you in birth, became a prisoner
you are a book, a dusty book
with leaning horizons from the edge
a tiny book in the palm
 
you are the autumn with faded leaves
an alienation in each quiet
I am scared when facing
what if my word is condemned
 
every man is an echo for himself
there is not a water pounded in old mortars
every longing blossoms a space
in an escalloped daisy
 
8-meteor
 
we used to shorten a street by talking
in a wine cup to each other
escaping the tempered sadness
to each other like lips
 
through a night as far as fire and ice
we stayed, like a meteor falling in water
waiting for morning in alert
door, window, glass, feeling the wind
 
all were trembling like candle light
roof, stable will slump, rails are ratty
we knew, and looked the double row
palms, street, wine, lips.
 
9-Words
 
Morning about to come
like the voice of a lake
my voice is exhausted, its song swans
anyhow
each leaf
as wet as a hanky
says forget me never
forget me never…
yet
picking up flowers
is forbidden to us
knocking the bins down
railing the death five times
the sun seems like
the separation
I dropped the sorrow
under the shadow of the grapes I cooled
at a pergola
says forget me never
forget me never…
 
10-mother
 
son, your beard pricks my face
was saying my mother, a poppy field
an unhappy water flowing through my word plain
a rattle, a mute bloodstone
a wild blizzard blowing from my chest
the moon sits on the saddle of the two branches
she even chases up me in my dreams
grinding my shadow like my footsteps.
 
11-The question
 
I am the skeleton of the memories jiggling to Beyoğlu
the heart is swinging in my chest of my dreams
my eyes are not hollow, my hands are still warm
I’ve found the song I need to sing
I am whispering into the darkness, when will I be born
A lake, a swan of Anatolia, an eastern hollyhock
a steppe is steeped within me now
a train loaded with hope at Haydarpaşa
a lovely dog, a question, and then
I am whispering into the darkness, when will I be born
 
12-Sundries
 
I closed my eyes against the trouble
a window was opened in front of it; I am able
to know you, sundries that are large and small
of the houses, the dead left behind us
The beatles playing on the radio wings
your tired and sweaty horses instantly
the horses waiting saddled to the blues
to which I bridled, on the plain of my heart
You mouths look like the men with clumsy hair
who whipped wind-up toys in childhood in the streets
your fruits taste like the rapt, sourish friendships
while they are gathering for the morning
They got lost at full gallop with the longing
for their youthfulness days they lost
your horses whose manes were embroidered
with unhappiness, an escapee wind in their pillions
I am pulling you into the shallows of the sea
without hurting, into a minaret of fairy
while the old clowns of our hearts
drowning of happiness in an evening
 
13-side to side
 
the face of yours the life appended a little sign
is like a cinema you touched on my forehead
a cold soda between the two acts
the lyric voice of the gong ringing hourly
the falling shadows of the buckthorn trees
a sky broken on a day of wind
form my frames of the sparrows left from the summer
the face of yours the life appended a little sign
is the alley of a district where the time is stopped
it is the ant, belonging to there, we meet
while touching the pebbles with our toes
who knows when, where, instantly
we had smelt a rain they dropped inside us
the face of yours the life appended a little sign
is the riverside, when I propped my mouth
the crotch wet I steal, form the times when there are no male
something which is garnet, a volcano
on the booms of which daisy, lily and some lime are piled
like cevdet anday says
“mountings are aside, we are aside”
 
14-the door
 
the rain is coming
you’d better open the umbrella
the knees of your dead father are aching
his finger is about to touch
on the ring of the door of the son
a kid, a hanky of cherry,
the sounds on the way
close, within them
each death is a revival
say remediless leave your body hey heart
become an island, you, I said don’t shelter
oh son, your dead father is sitting
under the umbrella
I am no one
I got soaked under the rain
and solely run dry
with the words of mine
now I am kissing the rain
saying goodbye to this city
The city is the station of both the landlord
and the passenger oh son
the rain is coming
the umbrella…
 
15-The phone
 
When you hung the phone in my ear in the evening
a kid was patting a cat on the threshold
the moon was wandering on the roof, a gong was pealing itself
I saw the trees blooming for the first time.
 
16-Istanbul
 
Istanbul is wandering on my forehead
the seagulls are flying from my chest
the clouds of the longing on their eyes
the dream showers on my eyelashes
As I compose the poems of the sorrows
pile on my letters the greetings of the fellows
the pipes urges my heart
istanbul doesn’t shelter in my heart
What wraps my shoulders are the shawls of the separation
pours down on me the coolness of the night
you were crippled by how many bends that your wound doesn’t bleed
a light grabbles our memories
It is fall that caresses the hairs of our lives
when my eyes touch the tree on black and white
of a photograph, my mind is scattered
the leaves of the love surround my heart
My loneliness cut out from the cloth of the sorrow
is the pages of the summer, which are not closed
not death, a hope, what my tongue says, anyhow
wait for my youth, you are my longing oh istanbul.

~Koray Feyiz