Small Things

 

A bunch of people bright

Like the sun that chases

Away the night and stormy clouds,

Like the mattress waiting at home

To lessen the weight of the longest day,

Or the blanket you hold on to when

All that is needed is the solace

Of a quiet embrace.

The Buffet

A drop hits the ground:
A culmination of darkened clouds
Trapping the sunshine behind.
Rumbling thunder of deafening volume
Drowning out the reasonable mind.
Wetness running down your skin.
It is not raining.

Before the floodgates can open,
As you wait in anticipation,
The flow is cut by disgust
From your dark reflection.

You walk, and walk,
To stop only for regret’s short freezes,
Walk until your feet bleed,
Until irritation transcends the trance.

Among a fog so mild yet blinding,
Where one becomes exposed invisible,
Where hope can no longer find you
And neither can you.

You walk into the only light in view
Which may have any promise of
Dissolving this mist filling your lungs
And crushing you under its weight:

The doors ajar, lined before you,
Anything from the classics
To the most terrific and brutal:
What an alluring buffet!

Hanging below a bright chandelier,
Pull up a chair.
Think; this one looks simple, yet,
Would require skill to suceed.
Let’s check over there?

Lean over into the lobster tank,
Calling to you empty and serene,
Surely, this would fill you up
In your chest with sensation
Like you so crave.

What about the candies?
In all manner of sizes and shapes round,
And easy to swallow lots and lots!
But of course, wouldn’t be ideal if
Instead of helping you reach the finish,
Taking them made you ache and sit
With shame under fluorescent lights.

Taking a page from
The chocolate fountain could work.
Its layers rising high and tall.
From top to the bottom,
So smooth like it’s not even flowing,
Save for the occasional splat.

At last, you reach the carving station.
Each cut made with anticipation and remorse.
But don’t let them see you too much!
Otherwise they might look with pity
At you for being unable to hold back.

Then, maybe it’s best to be decisive.
Cut big and deep so you don’t
Come back for more.
Just let the juices flow out as you
Drop the knife and go drowsy.

Then maybe,
Just maybe,
You can finally go
Believing
To be true those dreams
you always hate having to
wake up
from

Excerpt

 

What a fulfilling thought;

To hear the laughter,

Feel the gentle gaze,

See the joyous face,

Of someone you care about.

Serenade to A Muse, Cut Short

The poem here has been shortened to cut the second half which is being kept private.

I was making my way through a feracious jungle,
Each step sinking into the cold earth,
Parasites leeching off my back,
Vines tangled around ankles,
Thorny weeds leaving scars,
Sly wanderers wearing faces.

I take in the oh-so-sweet fruits
Handed to me in my face,
Which briefly satiate
To only wound from the inside.
At a lush green desert,
In abundance suffocating.

I neglect to notice an oasis,
The refuge right next to me,
And a soothing tree in the middle of it,
With a story not unlike my own:

At the tail end
Of the first week of September,
Had her noble seedling sprouted.

Here she developed:
Pricked and shaken,
Barely a whimper,
In a state of late bloom;

She kept her petals shut,
Locked away and stuck,
In search of a light.

With roots gripping the earth frail,
Asking for one drop to be spared,
She dared to simply take
A breath of air.

While she beat herself up,
For the lack of things forsaken,
With the sight of flowering plants
Hoarding the sky above,
Came a need for a hustle to catch up.

In the shadow with personal clouds,
She pondered and observed;
What is the right way to navigate this world?

A weightless calm and a frantic dread,
That both may well accompany drifting afloat?
Versus standing, shoulders broad,
On the one hand chained to a wall?

In a cyclical motion through the spiral.
Progress with each setback.
Tired exhales became her breath.
Tears her dew.
Reflections light.

A process to take gloom
And convert it to exude bloom.
With perseverance through blows & qualms,
She came to wisdom.

A humble, keystone of a tree.
Spreading fruits for more trees to be;
Her embracing branches, and breezy leaves,
Just her presence in itself became an oasis.

(...)

Oğuz Kaan Aybak

Reclaim, Repair, Rebuild

A den stood on a foundation solid,
With a roof spoiled from negligence.
The pack grown too tall to see around their feet,
It was up to bright grounded cubs to avoid ignorance.

The plan was to convince you that you were safe,
The roof, a shield from the stormy rain outside,
Meanwhile they indiscriminately set ablaze
Any and all that was inside.

Dare open your eyes, they'll respond with
Cruel attempts to break your spirit.
By first threatening your peace,
And then abusing your heart's strings.

It is a monumental struggle,
You are right to fear,
But there is no such thing as impossible
When all the trembling voices come together.

Once the growls are in synch,
Sick of waiting in stasis sitting still,
They are destined to become a roar and bring
Forth a display of unwavering will.

That worry of yours
For the things and ones you love,
Is the priceless bond linking you
To all the others who wish to rise above.

A single embrace, one bright spark,
Is all that is needed
To kindle this train about to depart.

End to end as one,
To bring the paralysis to its end.
One by one we stand,
To make the roof ours and ours alone to mend.

Oğuz Kaan Aybak

Nazlı Hanımına (To His Coy Mistress by Andrew Marvell)

Olsaydı da dünyalar kadar zamanımız,
Acıtmasaydı bu kadar nazlarınız.
Sabahlara kadar otururduk beraber,
Konuşurduk her ihtimali birer birer.
Sen ta Ganj Nehri’nde yakut ararken,
Humber’ın orada yakınırdım ben.
Tufandan on sene evvel severdim
Sûr’a üflenene kadar beklerdim.
Aşkım olan büyümekteki fidan
Kaplardı krallıklar kadar dev alan.
Harcardım sırf gözlerinle bakışlarını
Övmeye yüz senelik zamanımı
Ve de göğüslerine iki asır,
Geri kalanına otuz bin yıl;
Her parçaya ayırırdım bir devir,
Belki diye, belki kalbin kendini gösterir.
İşte hanımım sen bunlara layıksın,
Elimde olsa bunları yapmam sanmayasın;
     Ancak geçen günlerin habercisi göklerde,
Sürerken atlarını durmuyor ki hele.
Önümüzdeki yol engin, sonsuzluğa
Uzanıyor kumlarla.
Gidecek o güzel yüzün,
Mermer tabutun sesimden yoksun;
Sakladığın meyven kurtçukların mı olsun?
Namusun toz olup uçacak,
Arzularım benimle toprağa karışacak.
Mezarın içi evet sakin belki,
Ama sanmıyorum orada sevgi tütebilir mi.
     Öyleyse hazır yüzündeki genç ışık
Cildinden çiy gibi yansırken apaçık,
Ruhunun yanıp tutuşan ateşinden duman,
Dışarı sızarken her açıklıktan;
Gel biz eğlenelim şimdi
Azmış yırtıcı kuşlar gibi,
Çatlayıp çürümesindense yavaşça
Yutalım tutkumuzu bir lokmada.
Toplayalım tüm kuvvetimizi gayretimizi,
Sevgimizi, değerlerimizi,
Hazlarımıza sarılıp içinden geçelim
Demirlerin ardındaki hayat denen şeyin.
Ayı, güneşi durdurmaya evet yetmiyor gücümüz
Ama birbirimize sahipken ha geceymiş ha gündüz.

Translated by Oğuz Kaan Aybak with contributions from Derya Altun & Talia Gkioulmpin Gialou Doumalar

Untitled Test

Step by step,

Reaching for a faraway forward.

Are the steps towards my goal?

Or merely a regression back to my crypt?

All I know is that the yearnful

Desolate ember of my compassion is still lit.