The Peregrine Muse
 

Poetry of
Fide Korkmazer Erken

Autumn on the Mountains

Autumn is on the mountains
Trees greet with yellowish colours
For whom is this mysterious beauty?
Who colours the sky and the trees?

Autumn is on the mountains
Pretty animals hide among the trees
What a wonderful life here God preserves
Different from the one in the cities



 
Gull & Love

 It opened its wings

as if hugging the skies

It was love felt between its wings

the only word covering the universe.



Summer

Summer writes its name
on the sea,
on the beach,
on the gull's wings
on the trawler
on the pebbles...

they shout summer, summer, summer
Then, it takes its rubber
and cleans everything; it's written
Summer comes and goes
when we wink our eyes



Spring

Shout spring roads
Green calls hills
Wish I were a bird
Flying to Spring.



Birds Over the Tree 

Birds fly over the tree

They form a circle

symbolizing their friendship and strength

Tree is their meeting point

giving them a place to rest...


 Is the earth a resting place for us?

What if we lived there

with friendship and peace

We are not birds

but human beings!




The Song of Peace

On the ground,
a man is walking,
a soldier driving his tank,

there are flowers
on both sides of the road
noone sees the flowers

the man is killed
his family cries,
and so do the flowers.

the soldier is killed,
his family cries,
and so do the flowers.

the man and the soldier,
meet beneath the ground,
and grow flowers
in an eternal garden...

the road is empty
there are no men,
nor soldiers
just flowers,
waving in the evening breeze,
singing the song of peace,

But nobody hears it!



Swan

White finds its name on your feathers
and makes the word innocence meaningful
Your delight is to swim on a still lake  
making the environment tranquil and peaceful

My eyes are captured by your appearance
giving my soul happiness and joy
What if you stay there until eternity
and I watch you, contented.




On the foggy shore

Birds welcome you
on the foggy shore,
birds walking,
birds flying,
birds eating.
It doesn't matter to the birds
whether the weather is foggy or not,
they always fight for food.
But fog reminds us of sadness.




The gulls

How sweet they are
fatty seagulls
They listen to the sound of the sea
and hear more beauty



The Peaceful Meeting

There was a meeting
on the shore near the calm sea
They gathered together
like a regular army

They talked a long time silently
peaceful words uttered
happy events shared

There they were
at their secret meeting
and nobody but a lonely poet
realized the sea gulls' peace event

The poet thought
they came from all over the world!



On the beach

Silence is cut by the waves
their whiteness calls innocence
The most fantastic taste is
the flight of the sea-gulls

The sound of the waves relaxes me
though there is a huge amount of water
Comparing it to the noise of the cities
it's possible to understand God's miracle

Walking on the beach rests my mind
What we possess in the world
is obliged to dissappear sometime
like sea-gulls' sudden flight



Flowers

Words are not enough
to tell of their beauty
flowers,
they send us love
with their open petals
they hug the universe
as nature's poems.



Snow

give me a small word,
inside which is a wonder's white touch
and sudden loss of time
childish happiness
enthusiastic, innocent
a small word
not love but snow!



Butterfly and Life

Life is a charming word
it ends at an unknown time
and has a smaller dimension than is supposed

what difference is there between us
except the sorrows we meet?
our life's diary has limited pages...
your's is one grand day,
our's last a few short years.

our bodies meet under the ground
but we are different at the door of death.
only our life dimensions are the same

little butterfly,
the rope tying us to life
is as thin as yours

you are obliged to be lost
but we are on an everlasting road
if only our hearts could be as pure as yours!



Garden's White Roses

The sun rays are

On the garden's white roses

Reflections dance brush-like

Painting white, yellow

And pink colours

So proud of themselves

As guardians of innocence,

They make no pretension

To challenge beauty

Instantaneous whispers of happiness
Rise from the roses
As if all time would hide
In the beauty of this moment

The poet's pen is not strong enough
To tell of their melody
The roses know this
And smile to her silently





The Red Roses

The red roses are in the vase
On the coffee table,
They were in your hand
On the way home last night.

Their colour shines
As if to show they're so proud.

Silent are the red roses,
They don't want to disturb love.

Is red the colour of love?
Ambitious and arrogant?
Then why do I have this fear of losing it?
My heart deeply asks
What will happen to love
When they wither.

The red roses stand still!



A Little Story

Little crickets are in the fields
Hidden under the bushes.
How beautifully they sing
Without appearing.
They tell stories unceasingly,
Singing until out of breath.
They talk about green grass,
Birds and trees,
Mention the rising sun, moonlight,
The sweet breeze.

In the tender quietness of the night,
Many stories they tell.
Nobody listens to their stories,
Nobody understands.
They scream blue-murder,
Nobody hears.

Little crickets,
Don't get tired.
There must be some people
Listening to your stories,
Assimilating them with pleasure,
Longing for the new ones,
Passing by your private houses.

But it is not enough for you,
Talking about birds and trees,
Mentioning the rising sun, moonlight.
Madly you exhaust your little bodies
And scrape your sad story
Tightly into nature.
The sad story is much bigger
Than the crickets, so little.

There'll come a day
When you'll stay in the past
With your stories from nature's book.
Then nobody will know,
And nobody will hear a bit
Of your stories so sweet



In your heart

small is happiness
in green grass
but far is happiness
in a bird's flight

as you want to get closer
it goes far away
small is happiness
in sky's clouds

happiness is a liar
says you own it
but just leaves sadness
and goes far

not possible to know
who owns it
we smile in sight
but in reality, cry

small is happiness
in green grass
but far is happiness
in a bird's flight

don't seek it
in sky clouds
it's in your heart
not so far



The Love Tree

There was an old tree
at the corner of the street
so big and imposing
that everybody tried to climb it

some people weren't strong enough
to grasp the branches
so they fell
before reaching the peak

some were too heavy
when these tried to
reside in the tree
they broke the branches

there was one person
tall, thin and gentle
he reached the top
after struggling many years

he settled there
his beautiful wife aside
but the scenery was so attractive
that he started to watch



Writing a poem

my heart trembled
wishing to write a poem
i began to look for it

looking at the clouds above
on my way to school
i saw darkness and sorrow
there was no poem there

trees were alone
on the street
i asked them to tell me a poem
but they wouldn't talk

i met children then
getting closer to home
they were laughing
i just smiled

my home welcomed me at last
untidy, alone, private to me
sitting on my ordinary chair
tiredness on my shoulders,
my gift was a poem.



The Brook's Invitation

The brook invited you,
Calm on a pebbly bank.
The enthusiasm of the high hills
Lay in the brook's plain bed.

You didn't insist on staying aside
And were seized by the brook's stray run,
Easing your soul
Into its free, boundless flow.

You were aided by icy waters,
So cold inside.
But its exuberance was hot,
Inflaming your heart.

When the brook invited you,
You couldn't stay here.
But joined the inviter,
Mixed into the freedom
In vagabond water.

You threw yourself into the water,
Washed your soul in exuberance,
Collected boundless desires,
And were ready to return.



Sweet Butterfly

Elegant tulle wings,
Little sweet creature,
Flew and perched on a flower.
You got my eyes,
My heart.
How suddenly
You disappeared.

Your beauty is
Still in my eyes,
Your love
In my heart.

You deceived me,
Sweet butterfly.



Naughty Love

Love was hidden
Under the table.
I went there
To get it
But hit my head

Love was in the kitchen.
I cooked some soup
To taste it,
But it burned my tongue.

I decided to find it
In my dreams.
I had a good sleep last night
But couldn't see anything.

Damn you, love!
Get out from under the table.
Come here!
I'll cook you in the kitchen
And taste you in my dream this night!



Flower Language

Flowers have miraculous colours
they send us love with their perfumes;
a different language have flowers

even if i learn all the languages in the world
it won't be possible for me to tell about love
as well as fragrant flowers

I smell love watching their colours
and want to say "I love you"
in the flower-language to my love



Empathy

you say
you don't like something
even shout
but I don't hear your words
I really understand
the imperceptible murmurs
coming from your heart
they also cry aloud
in my inner part



They Called Me To The Country Of Poetry

Late,
One evening
They called me
To the Country of Poetry.

They said,
"Come quickly!
If not,
No tickets will remain."

The streets of the Country of Poetry
Have flowers on the pavements.
They smell
So distinctively.

Travellers pass along the streets.
They disappear,
Leaving something scribbled on a scrap of paper...
Some odd writings.

Some people read them
Others throw them away.
But they are inexhaustible
Those odd scribblings.

Travellers come
To the Country of Poetry.
And sometimes are unable to procure
A return ticket.

They drift along
The narrow streets
And pick up flowers
With unusual formations.

Tonight,
There's a free
Ticket available.
A one-way ticket.

I salute the ones who stay
In the Country of Poetry,
For it's the country of
The lonely, poor and peculiar.

Unfortunately,
It's not possible for you
To enter -
Unless you really are a poet.



May Good Words Be Rains

If sounds don’t vanish in space
And all the words accumulate somewhere else
Let’s say good things to each other
Of friendship, humanity, peace and love.

Then the good words can come together
And turn back like love raining
And drop on wars
And put out hatred in hearts.

The more rains of love fall
The less all the guns will work.

We must throw away bad words
And always produce good ones
So love clouds gather together in the sky
And rain, drop by drop on the whole world.

Drops acumulate...
Wars come to an end!




Fide Korkmazer Erken is a Turkish poet, born in 1967 in Bursa where she lives and works as an English teacher. She has a degree from Uludag University in English and writes in both English and Turkish. Her poems, inspired by nature, have been published in magazines and on Internet sites such as Other Voices International. Her poems also grace flora riviera. Fide is married and has two daughters.