I am drawn with lines
that by their composition
ought unwavering to delineate
harmony from hope,
yet which in the quavering
quiet of silken dawn
have become such loose
configurations, figuring
nothing more substantial
nor more reasonable than
a porously palletted dusk,
a pondering of apathetic dread.

And yet I weep for you
for the loss of you still,
for the incessant chattering
of this soul mournfully
decrying another day,
another solitary night—
silent now fall, o you
entombed by an abundance
of sins no more egregious
than that of the moon
who looks ever on and on
and does nothing more.

İstanbul 02 January 2021

do you remember

a million years ago and more
we two danced together
under the plaintive Pleiades,
who were still prancing
their escape from Orion

do you remember me?

it was perfectly unpatterned
the most unique moment
and one I would repeat
again and again and so
forever in my aching heart

no parting could this memory stain

the rain was lightly falling
and your hand trembled
when first I brought it
to my hungry lips lingering
over your moistening palm

as the sisters smiled on and on

I could barely even imagine
the touch of your own lips
fearful yet hopeful me,
and so I pulled you under
the finest feathered tree

and the moon grinned down

your breath caught at the
first beat of the tune
that was playing through
my thoughts and I wondered
how you could hear it too

while rain turned to mist in your hair

caring and closer you came
craving curiously near
to a fearing flight from the
life you had crying known
although not I could you release

for freedom only comes from you

but I did not know, never knew
how true this being you
would someday her wings
widespread the Pleiades pleading
a new life seek unheeding

do you remember me now?

do you remember my touch
and how muchly mournful
the rain was pouring beneath
a moon all too unloved while
the sisters returned to their dance

İstanbul 29 December 2021

and his tears fell, and his tears fell

beneath the moon

The last time I saw her,
she was dancing with the moon
brilliantly bending, tending
most tenderly each fleeting
fairy that fairly reflected
the light of dearest Luna.
And that she could do this
at all, however smally sensual
she in contrast to the immensely
glowing orb so high above—
that she could so enthrall me,
being far too zealously adoring
of my fair heavenly love
who has no never, not once,
failed to please me—that she
I say could dancing deftly
fill my vision with grandeur
beyond compare—that alone
was enough to ensure my lasting
love, my eternal adoration,
for although she is gone now,
so very far from me, she will
always remain close, enshrined
within this heart, my shining one
my artist beyond compare,
staring at the falling snow
as she danced beneath the moon.

İstanbul 24 December 2021

how to speak

I have clung to this world, this life
with such indulgent determination,
relishing religiously the certainty
that it was meant for me and I for it.

I composed verses even in youth
although intent on teasing forth far
more than admiration from fairest
a lass I had only naively adored.

Words wound through me truly
tempting taut a mild milkweed
of a man who barely understood
pain any more fully than pleasure.

I chased the fae around the world,
wailing in my misfortunes and
climactically moaning all too severely,
like a player on a soiled stage.

I adored life with all its ambiguities.
I lusted after anonymous lovers
in the guise of a noble companion
with words borrowed from the Bard.

Yet the closest I have ever come
to unfettered unadorned passion
has been while standing naked
beneath boldly Brighid’s gaze.

Insensate now these pillars of my past
innumerably cluttering dusty drawers—
I will have no more of them, of this
persistently pointless pattering,

for inspired by you, mo ghràidh,
have I finally learned how to speak.

İstanbul 22 December 2021


Poetry is my voice—
it is how I speakingly
explore this life, this
worldly being bleeding
moments of profusely
personal me needing,
never knowing what
or even if these words
any meaning beyond
this me, this moment
might attain, and yet
certain of this alone:
that this world owes
me nothing, while
I infinitely always will
remain beholden for
the immense beauty
she has blessed me with
and the voice with which
to adore her.

İstanbul 21 December 2021

one kiss

It was not alone the dubious humanity-denying
unicorn that proudly pointing adorns her shelf,
nor yet the unpretentiously playful patterns
that wholly unrestrained ranged gleefully across
the walls of her hearth and heart and home.

The carefully crafted colors mischievous sparkling,
the music that deftly swam through his thoughts,
the snow that fell on the streets outside as sighing
the wind whispered peaceful promises of hope
while lovers clutched one another ever more tightly.

No, what commanded his thoughts—most peculiarly
most incessantly as time drew on and the dawn
distant silently sullenly wondered why he stood
there still when night as yet a breathing broken rest
no comfort could him afford while the world slumbered—

was simply this: that as snow fell and melted below
and the stars grew dim and disappeared from view,
yet still he ever wakeful longed for the one thing
he lacked the courage to imploring seek despite
the eager urgings of his pleading plaintive heart:

a single kiss from her ever smiling lips.

İstanbul 20 December 2021


There are memories born in the stars,
moments that melt even angry Mars’
coldly stiffening heart with the heatedly
hardening resolve of a tempered soul.

Somewhere just beyond baleful Venus
revolves a starry cluster of most hungrily
galaxy clutching spirits sharply spinning
around such a fiery burning immensity.

And there was she born—my phoenix—
insatiably tasting the heavens themselves
as wings expanding she flew forth
soaring nobly needfully down to earth.

Where I awaited her, plaiting pretty
strands of silk a nest to hopeful construct
for no other reason than that she might
pause a time beneath this fullest moon,

and allow me a moment somewhere
between Mars and Venus to breathing
please her, pet her, and a memory evoke
of the fire that she has ignited in my heart.

İstanbul 19 December 2021

the author

her voice majestic
mouthing mysteries
is nothing less than

it teases my soul
tracing timidly timbers
that constitute a forest
perfectly pristine

marbled minutiae
trembling titter truths
that my hungry thoughts
insatiable engulf

but most of all I yes
must leafing admit
that listening to her
draws forth my soul

in honestly offered
tones of reverence

İstanbul 16 December 2021

spring – bahar


Life grew and shrank and sharpened
as time passed, and he could not say
when the evening had fallen, or if those
lingering lights truly were the stars
he had known, or even if the moon
would ever reveal its beauty to him again.

For time can be cruel in its selfish
mockery of man’s hopes and needs,
and in the barest moment of calm,
voices emerge once more demanding
his attention as the moon drapes herself
in darkening clouds this night as well.

He knew this had to be so. He knew
there must be a summer of warmth
and playful abandon, and an autumn
of tearful regrets, and a winter
of most urgent and painful longing.

But the snows melted and night fell,
and he opened his doors again to find
his beautiful moon smiling down
on him, for Spring will always come
to those whose honest hearts can sing.

İstanbul 9 December 2021


Hayat büyüdü ve küçüldü ve keskinleşti
zaman geçtikçe, ve söyleyemedi
akşam çöktüğünde, veya bunlar
kalan ışıklar gerçekten bildiği
yıldızlardı, hatta ay bile, bilemedi,
güzelliğini ona bir kez daha gösterecekti.

Çünkü zaman bencilliğinde acımasız
olabilir, insanın umutları ve ihtiyaçlarıyla
alay edilmesi, ve en sakin anında,
sesler bir kez daha talepkar çıkıp
dikkatini çeker, ay kendini örterken
bu gece de kararan bulutlarda.

Bunun böyle olması gerektiğini biliyordu.
Biliyordu ki sıcak tutkulu bir yaz vardı
ondan sonra ağlayan pişmanlıklarla
bir sonbahar, evet, ve bir kış gelir
en acil ve acılı özlemin mevsimi.

Ama karlar eridi ve gece düştü,
ve kapılarını tekrar açtığında
onun özledigi güzel ayı yine buldu
gökyüzünlerde, onun üzerine gülümsediği
ayı, çünkü bahar her zaman gelir
dürüst kalpleri şarkı söyleyebilenlere.

İstanbul 9 Aralık 2021


surrender the days, the ways of youth
your feet pretty patting across tiled floors
cleanly sparkling, marking your mother’s
careful caring hands as she ever tended
so sweetly, so unerringly the family
she adored beyond measure, her treasure

surrender the jealous-some journies
love wonderingly oh wistfully desired
while you mired in family matters
mouthed innocent assertions of devotion
and hopeful harmony never once imagining
with what certainty her heart would turn

surrender the time which neither rhyme
nor reason could have precisely predicted
when you as much a man as ever being
pleaded plaintively for her to return
as bending, your soul tormented grew
heavier and heavier, heaving tears

despise your ignorance, blindly binding,
yet in truth, nothing could have prepared
you for the immeasurable suffering
of a heart left with naught but melting
questions that seep ever through the cracks
when it fell shattering before the dawn

İstanbul 6 December 2021