9 Eylül 2016 Cuma

ANOTHER BIRTHDAY, Lost in the Annals of Superfluous History



Eser prepared this one for me, as she prepared so much for all of us in our family since we
silently and loudly made our vows in 1978.

https://animoto.com/play/KB10FqZbO4JK6ebEbdLAbg

27 Ağustos 2016 Cumartesi

ŞAİR ASAF HALET ÇELEBİ için, BANA NELER VERDİĞİNİ BİLMEDEN GİDEN AMCAM için




Eskitmek istemediğim eski yazı




ŞAİR ASAF HALET ÇELEBİ HATIRASI


Yaşlı, çok yaşlı adam gençliğinin batan güneşinin ışığıyla parlayan Üsküdar pencerelerine baktı. Başka tepeden, başka evden, başka gözden.

Kafessiz, cumbasız, lalasız, bahçıvansız evin yüksekliği korkuttu. Bahçede İncir, elma, armut, erik, hünnap, kızılcık, dut filan yoktu. Duvarlar arasında, sadece aynı güneşe erişme çabasındaki kiraz ile köklerini derinlere salamayan kayısı vardı.

İstim salan vapurlar yerine motor gürültüleri ebedi martılarla yarışırken, eskileri, en eskileri anmak da olabilir.

Kayıp kuyuların kenarındaki taşların akrepleri, kuytu defne ve akasya ağaçları altlarının rutubetli toprak-yaprak kokuları beynin düşünce hislerinin girift olduğu bölgelerinden dışarı çıkarken beraberlerinde insanlar, suratlar taşımadılar. Cansız insanları düşünmek hiç de istemeyen bendeki Amcamın hayali kendini sokmuş akrep cesetleri ve cansız nesnelerden oluştu.

Camların parlaklığı gitti.


Ahmet Cafer Çelebiler

Haziran, 2008











Ve bir de yeniö hep yeni yazı :


ŞAİR ASAF HALET ÇELEBİ


Masal duymayıp, okumayanları masal dünyalarına taşıyan;

Bilinemeyenin bilinemediğinden gelen tadını damağa veren;

Anlaşılmayan yaşam sorularının yaşamın parçası olduğunu hissettiren;

Bütün insan ve “nedircikleri” seven;

Çaba göstermeden, acı-tatlı ayırımını yok ederek gülümseyip gülümseten;

Eskiyi yeni, yeniyi eski yapıp zamanı durdurup içinden geçen

Şair insan şair.


Temmuz, 2015






2 Temmuz 2016 Cumartesi

A Birthday Poem : Always Two Days left for Independence and Twelve Days before Storming of Bastille




Poem for Eser
her eyes on this and many of these days dancing into the night of dreams shared and destined for infinite more birthdays


Walls of Goodwill to protect her in the Playground That is Life

16 Haziran 2016 Perşembe

An Anti-War Poem


Poem for the Child lost while on Military Duty, or

Why try to Make Sense?



If it was a brown paper sack To write upon Piece by piece Emptying Pen and Unburdening her She, the sorcerer The apprentice My experience

26 Mayıs 2016 Perşembe

One More Travel Story From Another Chelebi 1





One More Travel Story From  Another  Chelebi

I wrote this while traveling with the army as an embedded recorder of mighty deeds. It is up to the reader to decide whether it is a true record or one based on half truths, misconceptions and insufficient observation.

The army was not aware of my presence in the physical sense, but I had a feeling that their victories were somewhat enhanced by my immaterial support.
The following was my mission, a mission which may or may not have followed a vision, but was nevertheless as important as those which were formerly and full envisioned.

Part 1.  THE MISSION

Concoct a poem for souls
That dwell outside
Time and its journeymen
Plodders who
Charge on appendages aplenty parrying
Cosmic dust and
Thought

On a concourse


Part  2.  ROADS TO TAKE












13 Şubat 2016 Cumartesi

Another Birthday in Absentia



To Nese


Bonding,
Fun and fearless,
Experienced
Then, multiplied.

Skin and smell,
Beating heart,
A bongo for three.

Supermarket nights,
Wandering at a souk,
Seen through sand storms
And bars of fortress home.
Bond upon bond.

Suddenly 36th
Simply, irrationally,
Bonds tested over five thousand miles
Now with a green shoot.

A seed planted,
A tree
Now one more
Same joy,
Modified bongo
Always simple and irrational.

23 Ocak 2016 Cumartesi




WHICH SELF?
IN A DAYDREAM

Looking out through half open shutters
And
Half closed slats
One sees the overcast sky
And
Under-cast street

It is a time of fear and foreboding
The ethereal dimension of the selfless

Yet, there is unrest in the streets
The crevices between the cobblestones
And
The crannies around and beyond door steps
No longer filled with slinking, wriggling, silent secrets
Stay loud and mute

There is no excitement or boredom of survival


Just file upon file of soundless dragging of flickers of feeling
Marching  down  and  down  and  abysmal
The unrest of rest disturbed

Until new sets of limbs move the cobbles
And
The reverie of gloating depression is broken
Sad
Stale life returns

Reversing selflessness









cobbles

nooks

crannies

crevices