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Son çiçek açmış yapraklarını bana,
Olacakmış derdime son bir çare.
Ne et kurtar beni ey ruda,
Çare yok bana zehirdir bu sevda.
Bazı şiirler vardır başlıklarıyla kısıtlanmaması gerek.
14 Şubat 20## için
The Suicide of An Aggrandized Poet
The Suicide of An Aggrandized Poet ACT I A dusty, preposterous shelf lies among the objects of a time now lost, deep within the traces of a heart, pulsating sacrilegiously not to abandon what made it alas, why would it for it's flesh-made, an aberration but to awaken a reminiscence, so begins the tale of the unfathomable, Decimation of souls on a silver plate with a knife of a thousand ache, a fork with tine of a goat's hoof, and a spoon of a blind man's hand, the feast began. On an April day of a gloom rain, yet the rain brought us a wave of life, no? I went down a hill that left a stain to chain a soul of a swain to a wain that would reign the remarks of feigned months that I wore as a mane in sights plain. For a hollow coil, the world at my command, A sycophant, my heart, thrilled once at a bus station on a rainy April day. Days and months, predecessors of a fountain flooded red with passion and drowned of in...
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