trace these words
with your fingers
take them in you
let them linger
wherever you feel
that they must be
therein you’ll have
the best of me.
The Pier
let me share this sunset’s end
though not beyond the distant years
but now upon the ebbing sea
let me give these colours names
which dance like fierce tiger flames
across the bay they seek to capture me
Hope
amongst the chaos
find the slightest scraps of hope,
this make us human
The Faithful
they beheld the world
in finely spoken sermons
written in dead tongues
CIMITERO ACATTOLICO
It was springtime
one of golden sunshine
the mists of time
had countless years
to save
and across these lawns
wandered cats
as metered verse
among the poets’ graves
Roma : April 2018
Devil Inside
a poet awakes
the devil within his soul
his pen is ready
Ağlayan Kaya
for offending the gods
she became stone
cursed to cry tears
forever alone
Sketched Memory
I reminisce in watercolours running
as if fresh upon a new page stained
in a sketchbook I had once discarded
on a parkbench left out in the rain
those memories I painted with such nuance
now with each raindrop lose some line or form
like the years passed by as scattered pages
from forgotten sketchbooks roughly torn.
Les Temps des Fleurs
once silken petals
fall as dust upon the earth
and mark the lost days
Corylus
fashion me my tombstone
of broken hazel boughs
that I may rest then under
this ground I lay on now
for above me ‘twixt the leaves
ever shines the sky
so set me under hazel trees
to hold me when I die.
