Poetry

April 24, 2018 Poetry , POETRY / FICTION

gato photo

 

By

Mert Feyzioglu

 

 

 

It’s All about Surrender

 

 

From what I heard

There’re those who strive to escape the night

Wrap their pains in a blanket.

Do not resist the night

If you do, it will hurt more

Take one last sip from the beer,

Inhale the cigar one last time,

Let yourself into the night

Cheers.

 

Hear the night

Do not resist its force

A guardian will enter through your eyes

will turn off your soul’s light,

You’ll darken

You’ll become hopeless, desperate and wretched

Do not resist its force

Your heart will be imprisoned

Your emotions will be questioned

Your body will grow cold

You’ll grow pale and spew out into the night

Do not resist its force

The last bird of hope will flap from your shoulder

into daylight

You’ll be lonely.

A freezing gust will reach your soul,

Your tongue will be tied,

Your heart will be handcuffed,

Only one bullet will strike your mind

You’ll bow to the night.

Do not resist its force

A judge will be assigned to your mind

You’ll be judged

A whip will touch your eyes

You’ll lose your sight

You can’t be born into the light

Shades of loneliness will surround your body

You won’t be able to get out

But,

If you take a gun

And dare to pull the trigger

Only then,

You can blow your soul into the night

 

 

 

 

Furious Gust

 

 

Such a night

resembling a newborn baby;

Half quiet, half loud;

at the edge of lunacy

 

Such a night,

I’m walking around

with my busy mind

I have no company

Except for this furious gust

Chasing my footsteps into the night.

 

The more I walk into the night

The more I the feel the gloomy night

filled with furious gust

She captures me,

surrounds my body with her dangerous mind

 

I feel lost in the hands of the fuddled night

While I pass through streets shattered

by her fight.

She is dancing with her sharp knife

by my side

She is corrupting my mind.

 

What a furious gust

She drives me insane, manipulates my troubled mind

Holds me with her cruel hands

Pulls me under

where no joyful sounds

Locks me in her foggy realm

where there is no sight.

 

 

 

 

 

Mert Feyzioglu

Mert Feyzioglu was born in Turkey/Ankara in 1994. Since he is highly interested in literature, he decided to study English Language and Literature at Bilkent University. He has been writing poetry for about 6 years and a short story for 2 years. His works have appeared in many Turkish Magazines. Also, he has been trying to write poetry and short story in English.

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