Five poems of SERKAN ENGIN

14 December 2019
Author :  

 

Socialist Laz-Turk poet and author Serkan Engin was born in 1975 in Izmit, Turkey.

His poems and articles on poetry theory have appeared in more than fifty literary journals in Turkey. In 2004, he published a poem manifesto, entitled Imagist Socialist Poetry. He has been trying to launch a new movement in Turkish poetry and to this end has published numerous articles about literary theory.


His poems and articles on poetry theory have been published in English in many international literary journals and art/poetry web sites all over the world like The Tower Journal, Poetry'z Own, Belleville Park Pages, The Wagon Magazine, Far Enough East, Split Infinitive Lit Magazine, Empty Mirror, The Writer’s Drawer, Poetry Super Highway, Margutte, Miracle E-zine, Industry Night Lit Magazine, Open Road Review, Shot Glass Journal, The Criterion, Mediterranean Poetry, etc. Some of his poems appeared in Japanese in the leading Japanese philosophy and poetry journal Shi to Shisou. Also his poems and articles on poetry theory have been translated into Italian, Spanish, Swedish, Armenian, Azerbaijani, Persian, Bengali, Kurdish, Zazaki, Romaic and Lazish.

Some of his poems in English have been accepted to international thematic poetry anthologies.

 

 

GHAZAL TO PERA BELLE

 

Love is now a torn paper sea, its blue missing

I never ask from where a pair of hazel eyes you fail to efface catches fire

 

The sky topples down on our lives, smearing thin letters on our flesh

Lame birds keep bleeding onto the G clef of loneliness

 

Now my body is a ruined wall I scratch with razors on my dreams

Who silences such disappointment, I know not

 

Only vague poems I stitch to my mute life can redeem me

No matter how many times I turn around myself, my jumbled days go on stammering

 

Now my skin is an unrhymed verse without your hands

I never ask from where a pair of hazel eyes you fail to efface catches fire

 

 

BROTHEL TRAUMA

 

In the rooms full of

decayed-dream scent

the oldness of the doors

opens to a wet disappointment

fake orgasm symphonies permeated into the walls

arabesque slogans are spelled on the mirrors.

 

The woman is the rebel acrobat

of pain on the barbed wires

strained between life and death

she stitches up the torn desires at her pubic

passes through the nitric acidic nights

as laying her head on the shoulder of hope

dirty banknotes occupy

the rough geography of lust.

 

 

DELAYED SALESLADY

 

My hair is darkening to a lengthy loneliness

lava has touched my lips, you consider as lipstick

I have propped my heart against the lights of the showcase

My tenuous dreams are hung on the shelves

 

There is a falling star in my night-patterned eyes

All my wishes drop down to the floor and they are dispersed

My legs are as cold as my poverty at the bus stops

My missed youth is trickling through my eyelashes

 

: My delayed desires are my dowery

 

 

ABUSED LETTERS OF HOPE

 

I was born to loop my balmy

dreams to your bleeding verses

born to shout your childhood fads

lost in a mute hell in front of everybody

 

I am the delicous revenge of all molested children

spilling their pain into the purple shores of Orpahanage

I am the handsome anger of all neglected buds

blooming on the lapel of Oppression

 

-Which holiness protected your most child letters

written on the skies of Hope!

Where was Jesus, where was Allah, where was Brahma and all others!

 

Tiny gardens of your short-length lives

occupied by the rivers of Fear round the clock

Your purity was hunted mercilessly

by the neighbour ravens of your helpless meadows

 

-Which holiness protected your most child letters

written on the skies of Hope!

Where was Jesus, where was Allah, where was Brahma and all others!

 

I am the delicious revenge of all molested children

spilling their pain into the purple shores of Orpahanage

I am the handsome anger of all neglected buds

blooming on the lapel of Oppression

  

MY FAMILY(!) and DIALECTIC

My father is what I reduce from as I run to myself
While dressing up from head to foot with sun flowers
Football and beer are making free oscillation
In his brain having no curl
He has equivalent fear from police and God
Never knew that he grew himself to nihility

- Hey buddy, where is here, Nazareth or Izmit
My father and pragmatism crucified my youth

My mother was a purple thorn pricking in my life
Property greed and anger
Without compass lie on her heart
She has more faith in money than God
Never knew that she grew herself to nihility

- Hey buddy, where is here, Nazareth or Izmit
My mother and capitalism crucified my youth

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