I Used To See You With My Heart

This sea is mine

What was mine: my yesterday. What will be mine: the distant tomorrow, and the return of the wandering soul as if nothing had happened. A slight cut in the arm of the absurd present, History mocks its victims and its heroes, It glances at them in passing and goes on. So i tell you ; This sea is mine. The fresh air is mine. And my name, though i mispronounce it over the grave, is mine. As for me, filled with every reason to departure, I am not mine. I am not mine. I am not mine.

| Mahmoud Darwish

“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

We are accused of terrorism

We are accused of terrorism If we dare to write about the remains of a homeland That is scattered in pieces and in decay In decadence and disarray About a homeland that is searching for a place And about a nation that no longer has a face

About a homeland that has nothing left of its great ancient verse But that of wailing and eulogy

About a homeland that has nothing in its horizons Of freedoms of different types and ideology

About a homeland that forbids us from buying a newspaper Or listen to anything About a homeland where all birds are always not allowed to sing About a homeland that out of horror, its writers are using invisible ink

About a homeland that resembles poetry in our country Improvised, imported, loose and of no boundaries Of foreign tongue and soul Detached from Man and Land, ignoring their plight as a whole

About a homeland to the negotiating table moves Without a dignity or shoes

About a homeland That no more has steadfast men With only women therein

Bitterness is in our mouthsin our talkin our eyes Will draught also plague our souls as a legacy passed to us from ancient times?

Our nation has nobody left, even the less glorified No one to say "NO" in the face of those who gave up our homebread and butter Turning our colorful history into a circus

We have not a single honest poem That has not lost its virginity in a ruler's Harem

We grew accustomed to humiliation Then what is left of Man If he is comfortable with that?

I search the books of history For men of greatness to deliver us from darkness To save our women from fires' brutality

I search for men of yesterday But all I find is frightened cats Fearing for their souls From the authority of rats

Are we hit by national blindness Or are we suffering from color blindness

We are accused of terrorism If we refuse to perish Under Israeli tyranny That is hampering our unity Our history Our Bible and our Quran Our prophets' land If that is our sin and crime Then terrorism is fine

We are accused of terrorism If we refuse to be wiped out By barbarians, the Mongols or the Jews If we choose to stone the fragile security council Which was sacked by the king of caesuras

We are accused of terrorism If we refuse to negotiate the wolf And reach out for a whore

America is fighting the cultures of Man Because it lacks one And against the civilizations because it needs one It is a gigantic structure but without a wall

We are accused of terrorism If we refuse current times Where America  the arrogant the mighty the rich Became a sworn interpreter of Hebrew.

-Nizar Qabbani

When Milena confessed to Kafka and said to him, “I love you,” Kafka then said: "She said 'I love you,' so I went out into the street, because the sky in my room was not enough for me to fly."

🎨 R e a

September

To sit by candlelight, To buy a new book, To start over, to go for a walk, to fall in love, to meet.. the most beautiful month.

🖊️ Esran Ersan

🎨 Muraoka Kimio

I am a strange woman

I could not fit into the streets inside me nor could i accept the outside world. I had walls that i built in desperation, locked myself in the rooms of isolation.

I am afraid that the feelings that have accumulated in me will suddenly explode and scatter me into granules.

If you want to befriend me, you will have to endure many things.

Don't hint, say it like a thunderbolt.

Olsun...

Deniz sen ol, ve ilk boğulan ben olacağım.

sen varış noktasısın, ve ilk gelen benim.

ev ol, ve ilk yaşayan ben olacağım.

şiir ol, ve ilk dinleyen benim.

Ne olursan ol,

ve sahip olduğum her şeyle senin olacağım.