THE OTHER
Poetry Portfolio
RABBIT BLOOD
Rabbit Blood,
In my cup freshly brewed tea
I can smell the herbs, even the earth
Three leaves from three trees
It is now “rabbit blood”
A tulip shaped tea glass
Literally “slim waisted”
In it neither orange, nor dark red
For it is now rabbit blood
At the very bottom, dark leaves and residue.
Barely visible, yet visible nonetheless.
A finesse display of brewing.
Two copper pots
The top warms, bottom boils
In it there is rabbit blood
Crimson like ruby
Hold the rim, save your fingertips
Still crimson in color,
Go ahead and drink it
Should you drink it? I would
LIFE
TURKISH KITCHEN
Feel the wood, feel the coarse. Two puddings, no more no less,
Around you, Gullac and sutlac they are called nonetheless,
Red, green, dark various spices. Thick they must be, showered with nuts,
A feast is at hand, let us dive in! They are both whiter than the sweet snow.
Every Turkish feast starts with soup. Turkish coffee has a taste, a lingering taste,
Garnished with garlic, lemon, or tomatoes. it cannot be made with haste.
Some even put okra, but I am not that bold. One sip, two sip, three sip.
A great starter, serve it hot but not too hot. Once, twice, and then thrice!
Time for some borek!
Puff pastry, but squared very firmly
With cheese, meat, or parsley
Warm and oh so filling.
Moving on to healthy options!
We like to stuff our veggies.
Sometimes with rice, sometimes with onions!
Stuffed cabbage and eggplants, very popular.
Our main courses are our marvel,
Yet in my eyes, our deserts are what makes our pride!
With lots of flour, honey, nuts and butter!
This goes for those with sweet tooth!
Baklava! Our syrup soaked cakes
What a taste for goodness sakes!
These too, are square in shape.
And much sweeter than any grape!
Square, soft and powdery.
Entrenched in Bosphorus!
Such a delight,
Go ahead and try some Turkish delight!
LAMPS OF THE GRAND BAZAAR
As you wander in the Grand Bazaar,
thousands of radiant lanterns.
Held up high, by flimsy chains.
“Mosaic lamps” they are called.
Courtesy of Turkish glass craftmanship.
Made with great finesse, each carries a maker’s craft.
And hang them up high, we do.
As a grand display, whether be orient or not.
Even the softest light they emit,
enough to beckon any stranger.
Embrace the great luminescence,
as they welcome you a thousand times.
Do not be mistaken by their name, however.
These do not emit a bright light.
Yet they refuse to grow dim.
It is what burns so bright.
It honestly feels so right.
Use them as your own light.
Watch as they shine in delight.
STROLLING
THE USUAL
Birds, wind and rain.
Chirp, woosh, and drip.
No umbrella, or hood.
Just hear, see and feel…
I keep on walking…
A metal soda can,
with a dent on its surface.
Who could have kicked, or stepped on it?
Someone angry, or someone bored?
I walk past by…
Two scissors, one sharp the other one blunt.
The sharp one in good shape, but the blunt one rusty.
Should it not be the other way around?
Who does it belong to?
A student, an artist, a barber, maybe a designer…
I walk past by…
Unfortunate hanging laundry under the rain.
Still clean,
but very wet.
Will the harsh wind knock them off?
Not my concern…
I walk past by…
And under the rain I keep on walking.
THE HUMMINGBGIRD
The window that overlooks the garden,
Not the most dandy garden, but still peaceful.
Every morning it is the same hummingbird,
Visiting its favorite Penstemon.
For 1.5 years it never missed it, must be something dear to the bird.
A light ruby neck, followed by a black dot for its head.
It is frail and yet, grabs the little branch ever so firmly.
Bewitched by the crimson Penstemon.
As a faithful love story.
