Perchance
Perchance, my shy love,
we can unite passionately
as slumbering magnolias awaken
with the moon's fancy,
in the summer gardens.
Perchance, my shy love,
we can unite passionately
as slumbering magnolias awaken
with the moon's fancy,
in the summer gardens.
crackling, booming, electric atmosphere.....streaks of lightning, when they met
rockaway beach....ankle deep in the foaming surf, deeper in cherish
Poem on “kelebek ruyasi”
Scenes on the heart, left prints
Muzafer and Reshtu words
Poet's life is the longest poem
Hence both's masterpiece modern epics
In the butterfly dream love, peace exists
Poetry is not that of words clusters
But rather is a life, feelings that deliver
As in the movie Reshtu tells:
“ Poet is like a baker”,
So Here kenj’s paraphrase
Poets not for themselves they write
For nations, upcoming generations
Focus on the love found in the heart
Get the future free of wars
We were accustomed to being in the military, yet,
at summer's zenith, my sweetheart, and our two
friends, left behind the Ft. Myer barracks,
to spend a Saturday night at Lady Bird Johnson park,
fireflies lit the pathways, freedom of that festive
nightfall,
and in our youthful revelry of that humid July
gloaming, we drank to the joys of Navy life,
with Jack Daniels whiskey and Boone's Farm
strawberry wine,
we, in our drunkenness, quoted Poe and
Hemingway,
what a soiree, what a mirthful moon-blessed
eve,
I remember Paris, Oh! So well,
went there so many times as a child,
the gabled windows at Montmartre,
and the Seine’s whispers mild.
The Pont du Alexander in grandeur,
and the blinking Eiffel lights,
Champs Elysees taking my breath,
and merry laughter by the nights.
Notre Dame of Hugo’s Hunchback,
the signs of intellectual ferment,
the story of fall of the Bastille,
still evoke my childhood dormant...
Because of You
My boy, you may take it from me,
That of all the afflictions accurst
With which a man's saddled
And hampered and addled,
A diffident nature's the worst.
Though clever as clever can be -
A Crichton of early romance -
You must stir it and stump it,
And blow your own trumpet,
Or, trust me, you haven't a chance.
Now take, for example, MY case:
I've a bright intellectual brain -
In all London city
There's no one so witty -
I've thought so again and again.
I've a highly intelligent face -
Parent of golden dreams, Romance!
Auspicious Queen of childish joys,
Who lead'st along, in airy dance,
Thy votive train of girls and boys;
At length, in spells no longer bound,
I break the fetters of my youth;
No more I tread thy mystic round,
But leave thy realms for those of Truth.
And yet 'tis hard to quit the dreams
Which haunt the unsuspicious soul,
Where every nymph a goddess seems,
Whose eyes through rays immortal roll;
While Fancy holds her boundless reign,