“Still, one got over things. Still, life had a way of adding day to day.”
Virginia Woolf
…
size kendimden bahsediyorum doktor
“biraz yağmur kimseyi incitmez”.
.
iyi ruhların arasında dolaşan
bir gölgeden sözediyorum
acıdan çatlamış kalbi
soğuğa dayanıklı kılan
bir bilgiden
terkedilmiş şizofrenleri
kendine çeken vadiden
keşişlerin hüznünden
ve bir aşk yüzünden
ayları karıştran kişinin
tababeti ruhiyesinden
.
size kendimden bahsediyorum doktor
ben kar yağarken ıslanmam.
.
benim öbür adım rüzgar
uğradığım orman
değdiğim kalb uğuldar.
.
de ki gayb seferinde kaybolmuşum
yola haritasız çıkanların
yıldızları ve münhal yüzleri okuyan
şarkısını unutmuşum
sönmüş taşıdığım ateşle beraber
yaz günleri, uğruna okul kundakladığım
ayinler.
.
de ki bulunur elbet
iyi bir hal üzre kaybolan kişi.
.
meğer anka değil biganeymişim
kalbim kendine varmadıkça
bitmezmiş yolum, divaneymişim
uyardı melekler rüknettinmişim
uyandım bir namaz yürür önümde.
.
benim de buharım tüterdi doktor
bir zaman, aşktan bahsedilince.
.
eve annesiz dönen çocukların
diline musallat olan
ve hazin bir ırmağın
geçerken ışıttığı kentlerin
diline musallat olan
akşamları baharın
ıslattığı mezarın
diline musallat olan
.
bu dünyayı severken
kalbine ağrılar saplanan kişiye
düşlerin kimyasından
şifalı otlar çıkaran
.
ben bir ilahi söylüyorum doktor
ay vakti, dantel kızların
diline musallat olan
…
su yükseliyor
iyi ki gemideyiz rüknettin
iyi ki senin öbür adın rüzgar
iyi ki mevsimden mevsime bir yol
yani inanan bir kalbin var.
…
Rüknettin’in Kalbi İçin Kehanetler , KEMal Sayar
♦
somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond
any experience, your eyes have their silence :
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near
your slightest look will easily unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully, mysteriously) her first rose
or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending ;
nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility : whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing
(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens ; only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands
E.E. Cummings
somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond any experience,your eyes have their silence: in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me, or which i cannot touch because they are too near your slightest look easily will unclose me though i have closed myself as fingers, you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens (touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose or if your wish be to close me, i and my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly, as when the heart of this flower imagines the snow carefully everywhere descending; nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals the power of your intense fragility:whose texture compels me with the color of its countries, rendering death and forever with each breathing (i do not know what it is about you that closes and opens;only something in me understands the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses) nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands
– See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15401#sthash.wIbUUuqL.dpu
somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond any experience,your eyes have their silence: in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me, or which i cannot touch because they are too near your slightest look easily will unclose me though i have closed myself as fingers, you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens (touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose or if your wish be to close me, i and my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly, as when the heart of this flower imagines the snow carefully everywhere descending; nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals the power of your intense fragility:whose texture compels me with the color of its countries, rendering death and forever with each breathing (i do not know what it is about you that closes and opens;only something in me understands the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses) nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands
– See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15401#sthash.wIbUUuqL.dpuf
As promised, I’m back with more street art from London. Here are some of my favourites, but you can see more in my new portfolio. I hope you find things that inspire you :)
Just came back from London and wanted to share this with you. I did a small walk around Brick Lane, photographing London’s fascinating street art. This fantastic mural is by Puerto Rican artist Alexis Diaz. It’s an Elephant – Octopus which I think is purely beautiful.
I will post more street art of London in the coming days.
HASANKEYF
Zeynel Bey Türbesi
Şimdiye kadar gördüğüm en etkileyici yapılardan biri. Tek başına mimarisi değil onu güzel yapan, 15.yy’dan bu yana sırtını dayadığı muhteşem Hasankeyf, tarifi zor bir atmosfer; insanın kalbini titreten cinsten, zarafeti ve biraz da boynu büküklüğü…
“He realized that all his life he had been a nobody to everyone. What he now felt was the fear of his own oblivion. It was as though he did not exist.”
Perfume : The Story of a Murderer
