Thursday, March 1, 2018



-As my beloved ones fell off the branch of life one by one, only I have remained
longing for leaves like a dried branch . . . and  like cracked soil longing for rains.-

In your absence I have conversations with me at the hours belonging to me. I dredge up the pyoid separations.
In order to remove the poison of being without you that contaminated my blood. My heart aches, grieving over the dredged-up separations.
I take to the road to you as if I were flying, and wear sad-looking wings for catching fireflies in the utter darknesses.
Has the winter in my heart closed the roads off . . . or the fallen september leaves of my faded dreams have done it? . . . I do not know . . . I do not recall.
It must have been due to my wish to forget it.
My memories have gathered dust like the faded pictures in an old chest.

When making wounds on the body of a tree
you never thought . . .
that sometime other names would be carved on my name you carved . . . or the trunk of the old “plane tree” defeated by life would be pruned, did you?

I guess the reason that I cannot hear whistles in birds' sounds anymore is this.
Neither the boza seller's 'bozaaa!' voice, who passes through the street! . . . Nor the junk dealer's 'junk dealaa!' voice . . . Nor the kids' "tag you're it!" voices that are mixed with the evening darkness . . .

I want to long again for
a pair of hazel eyes I can look their pupils into . . .
and your sweat that soaks on my skin like falling raindrops.

I want to long again for
your kiss with the lips of the night like fluttering of the rose you attached to my chest . . .

I want to long again for
your forgetting your hands timid as a sparrow on my skin . . .


-As the dirty dark nightmares rust in my soul-

Do not recall the nights you were late.
Extend rains from clouds,
Water the purple bunches on my body.
Let the particular body
Grow taller in the very fine night . . .
Let the skin smile innocently, like a purple violet.
In this place where only "I" have remained
Without becoming ashes in the burning flame of your mouth,
Shower love wet with rain on my lips.
Be (my) passionate love that does not end.



      -In the very heart of the night, my heart flutters. It finds its tongue like telling an old fairy tale. 
        I paint your undeniable presence on the walls with its most beautiful colors.-

Where the night has withdrawn
When the moon has wrapped the beach without you in its light
When in the whispers of the wind
When waving goodbye to the impossible
After the ship outgoing
That very night
The mirror that took my face out of my hands
Had sunk into the deep waters of reunion.

Now on the same sea
We are two timid alone. . .
In the downpour of the memories
Our skins wake from sleep.
Our voices wander in space,
And interlace bodilessly.



The blaze of the evening on the windows. . .
When you took me into your arms with passion
My hands used to behave childishly in your hands,
And all the stars in the sky
Used to come down into my eyes. . .
In those nights we breathlessly experienced,
The moonlight
Used to hold on to the hair of the curtains.
You were fireflies coming down with their torches
From my lips. . . to my toes. . .
As if mountains have bent over their foot slopes
And kissed wild flowers. . .
You were
The most beautiful hours of the day.



I took down your pictures from the wall one by one . . .
Your dusty guitar with missing strings
were waiting for being caressed.
The sad slippers
in conflict with each other
at the head of our mattress.

Now the curtains the moonlight has wrapped
are offended,
and have not shown their faces to the day yet.
Our dreams in the overturned glasses.
Our laughs have remained hidden
in a dusty broken mirror,
and on the torn calendar pages . . .

You are gone,
and I wanted to lay the night over my eyes.
The leady rains have lined up on my eyelashes.
Loneliness is on the alert.

The one that is shot was the last leaf
of the season in my heart
falling on the ground,
floating and turning
in the air.
On Valentine’s Day.


I want to run
In the countryside like idle free mares,
And to brim over as the last drop that fills the tumbler.
I want to climb the highest hill,
And turn my back on the city,
And shout to my heart's content
Towards the rising sun.
I want to be like water drops,
And cut loose from all pressures,
And break the cage.
I want to say hello
To grief and unending longings,
And console myself in your arms every night,
And share
The most beautiful feelings with you.



LEYLA IŞIK. Educator, poet and writer Leyla ISIK was born in Sarikamis, Kars in 1957. She finished his primary and secondary education in Izmir. She graduated from the Teacher’ Training School in Usak, and the Institute of Education in Denizli, and received an undergraduate degree from the Anadolu University, Education Faculty in Eskişehir. In 2001 she retired as a primary school teacher. Leyla ISIK, who goes on her studies with KIBATEK (Cyprus, Balkans, Eurasia Turkish Literatures Corporation), which is the international platform of Turkish language, literature and translation, is holder of 2003 IKSDER (Izmir Culture and Art Association) 1st prize of Halicarnassos Fisherman Cevat Sakir (with her poem titled “My Izmir”). 2008 Honorary Certificate of Service to the Literature of Turkish World Award, “in the name of Mesheti Gencevi Social Union of Poets”. 2013 Platform of Izmir Lovers, Attila Ilhan Medal of Friendship and Loyalty. Leyla ISIK successfully represents her country abroad, and contributes to promotional activities for Turkish poetry on international platforms as a volunteer ambassador. She also made poetry programs for various local radio stations for a period of time. She has been interested in literature, painting and theatre since her childhood, and apart from poetry she writes short stories. She is a member of the Men of Letters Associations, and the culture, art and theatre coordinator of the Aegean Culture Platform Association, and the culture and art supervisor of Belgium Baris Manco Lovers Association. She was KIBATEK secretary general and vice president, and is a Vise Presedent International project coordinator of KIBATEK. Her writings and poems are published in verious magazines and anthologies, and translated into German, Bosnian, Bulgarian, Dutch and English. Her poetry and poetic narrative book entitled (To) Another Dream (2005) has been translated into Azerbaijani by Prof. Dr. Elcin ISGENDERZADE, and published by Vektor University in Azerbaijan. Leyla IŞIK, Representative of Kazakhstan World Writers Union, Representative of Pablo Neruda Cultural Association in Italy and Member of Honor. HER WORKS: (To) My Peace Frame, poetry, 1992 The Adventure Bird (This Is What Burns inside Me), poetry and poetic narrative, 1996 Like Reliving, short story, 2000 (To) Another Dream, poetry, poetic narrative, 2005 Dodaq Izlerin (Traces of Your Lips), poetry and poetic narrative, which has been translated into Azerbaijani, 2009 I’ve Stolen (Got) My Dreams (short story, 2011) n the Morning of the Drunken and Sleepless Night (poetry and poetic narrative, 2011). Her country of origin: TURKEY. Mother language: Turkish. Nationality: Turkish. Place of living: İZMİR

1 comment :

  1. For passionate love Poet Leyla tops all other poets!