We Used To Meet At Dusk Sitting On The Old Bridge While Fog Surrounds The Hills It Covers The Road Past

I can't promise to be calm,

dignified, and indifferent.

like a rock by the sea...

If my heart's going to break,

let it break from anger, grief, or joy.

― Nâzım Hikmet

“goodbye”

You called, you’re on the train, on Sunday, I have just taken a shower and await you. Clouds are slipping in off the ocean, but the room is gently lit by the green shirt you gave me. I have been practicing a new way to say hello and it is fantastic. You were so sad: you said “goodbye.” All the shops were closed but the sky was high and blue. I tried to walk it off but I must have walked in the wrong direction.

By : Mathew Roher

Jerusalem

I wept until my tears were dry I prayed until the candles flickered I knelt until the floor creaked I asked about Mohammed and Christ Oh Jerusalem, the fragrance of prophets The shortest path between earth and sky Oh Jerusalem, the citadel of laws A beautiful child with fingers charred and downcast eyes You are the shady oasis passed by the Prophet Your streets are melancholy Your minarets are mourning You, the young maiden dressed in black Oh Jerusalem, the city of sorrow A big tear wandering in the eye Who will halt the aggression On you, the pearl of religions? Who will wash your bloody walls? Who will safeguard the Bible? Who will rescue the Quran? Who will save Christ? Who will save man? Oh Jerusalem my town Oh Jerusalem my love Tomorrow the lemon trees will blossom And the olive trees will rejoice Your eyes will dance The migrant pigeons will return To your sacred roofs And your children will play again And fathers and sons will meet On your rosy hills My town The town of peace and olives.

-Nizar Qabbani

Bak Milena,

"En çok seni seviyorum." diyorum ama belki de bu gerçek aşk değildir.

"Sen bir bıçaksın ve ben hep o bıçakla kendime saplarım",dersem belki de gerçek aşkı anlatmış olurum.

Ve Milena, kalbimde seninle her şeye katlanabilirim.

| Franz Kafka

بيني وبينك

ليالٍ صيفية و لحن اهديته لك بالخفاء وديوانٌ من حروف غزلية وقهوة المساء

بيني وبينك شوارع لا تنتهي وطرق مليئة بالغرباء

بيني وبينك همس واطياف وقصص لا تحكى بالكلام

بيني و بينك نجوم الليل و مطر الشتاء و رياح الخريف و زهور الربيع

بيني و بينك اشتياق نيسان و احباء ديسمبر و سكارى يناير

بيني وبينك اسهم عشاق سامة

بيني وبينك لا شئ وكل شئ في آن واحد

Granada

At the entrance of Alhambra was our meeting, How sweet is a rendezvous not thought of before. Two soft black eyes in perfect frames enticing, Generating after-effects from the past ages afore. Are you a Spaniard? I asked her enquiring, She said: Granada is the city where I was born. Granada! Seven centuries awoke from slumbering, In her eyes, after the clothing of sleep they wore. And Umayyad, with flags lifted high, flying, Their horses streaming by, unnumbered they pour. How strange is history, how is it to me returning? A beautiful granddaughter, from my pedigree of yore. With a Damascene face, through it I was seeing, The eyelids of Sheba and the neck of Suad once more. I saw a room in our old house with a clearing, Where mother used to spread my cushions on the floor. And the Jasmine inlaid in its stars were shining, With the golden singing pool, a picture of splendor. Damascus, where is it? I said: you will be seeing It in your flowing hair, a river of golden black ore. In your Arab face, in your mouth still storing The suns of my country from the days of Arab lore. In the perfume of Generalife with waters gleaming, Its Arabian Jasmine, its sweet basil and citron odour. She came with me and her hair behind her flowing, Like luscious ears of grain in an unharvested meadow. The long earrings on her neck were glittering, Like Christmas Eve candles that sparkle and glow. Behind her like a child I walked, she was guiding, And behind me, history, piles of ashes row after row. The decoration of Alhambra I almost hear pulsing, And the ornaments on the roof, I hear their call grow. She said: Alhambra! Pride of my ancestors glowing, Read on its walls my glories that shine and show. Her glory! I anointed an open wound festering, And in my heart anointed another that refused to go. If only my lovely granddaughter had a way of knowing, The ones she meant were my ancestors of long, long ago. When I bid her adieu, when I knew I was going, I embraced in her Ṭāriq ibn Ziyād, that Arab hero.

-Nizar Qabbani

Have you ever had a crush? Have you ever felt a rush? Makes my heart stop, she didn't even blush And I got a crush Oh man I got a crush Got a psychedelic dagger in my heart, tell the paramedics to rush

I hate crushes, I cover bruises with paintbrushes Pour it all in the music now that my bank's ruptured

She never texts me, she never texts me, she never texts me Never texts me, she never texts me, forgot to text me

Well I guess we accept the ones that neglect us And my moms say that we disrespect the ones that perfect us And try to protect us

I really hope that you get this My thoughts are weighin' me down My neck can't handle the necklace Your father says that I'm reckless, I didn't cause all that wreckage

had to give you this message I wrote it straight from the soul and it didn't make sense to text it So I snuck up in your room, put it on your shoulder and in return You sent me back a restraining order.

Jaden - let it breath

A Night Beneath the Palm’s Shadow

The wind hums secrets through the date-laden trees, whispering names of those who once walked this dust, where footprints fade but never truly leave, pressed deep in the memory of the earth’s quiet trust.

Oh, moon of longing, hung low and bright, do you still remember the songs we sang? Verses embroidered in the fabric of night, soft as jasmine, where old echoes hang.

A mother calls, her voice a prayer, threading through the hush of dawn, her hands—cracked, but full of care— building futures from threads long gone.

And here I stand, between past and now, a daughter of sand, of stars, of sea, asking the wind to teach me how to love, to lose, yet still be free.

Don't hint, say it like a thunderbolt.

love is out of fashion

poets have killed love they wrote so many things about it that no one believes them anymore i thinks it's very normal because true lovers suffer and remain silent.