The Pomegranate Tree

Once upon a time there was a tree,
with alluring red blossoms in springtime,
that turned into magical red globes in the heat of summer,
giving us ample fruit with sparkling ruby seeds inside.
A treasure within a treasure, a chest within a chest,
One that contains many,
each particle from the heavens,
a sacred gift of Mother Nature,
heralding prosperity, nourishment, and health.
Let’s tie many coloured ribbons on the tree of plenty
and make wishes for happiness, peace and oneness.
Although Saint Nicholas has his home in these lands,
he’s busy carrying gifts to other children around the world,
but will be here on the 31st to celebrate New Year’s Eve.
Let’s hope our tree will attract all the birds and creatures upon Gaia and
when the gathering is complete, with a full audience,
we’ll crack the pomegranates on the ground,
spreading prosperity around the globe,
to all the children and people of the world.

Season’s Greetings and Happy New Year!

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Love

 

Inspired by a painting by Nuri İyem (1915-2005)

 

 

Love

 

I stare out the window,

watching the lonely street.

A raindrop hits the glass,

and another one,

then thousands play drums on the tin roof.

The faint figure of a man,

emerges from the far corner of the street.

My heart beats so fast,

I cannot hear the rain anymore.

He passes by and disappears…

 

Is it my weakness to see your reflection

in every man who passes along my way?

Is it because it’s been so long

since I last heard your familiar footsteps,

confident and equal,

approaching the gate,

and up the steps, one by one,

and with each one,

filling me with that certain warmth,

feelings of tranquillity and bliss.

My face brightens with a smile,

I touch my hair and move towards the door,

the key turns in the lock,

and the moment comes,

when eyes speak the mutual language

long before words are spoken.

 

It’s raining gently now,

lights are on in the houses near.

My room is dark, the bed is cold,

yet when I press my face against your pillow

my senses intensify in bringing you back

into my reality.

 

Why does one have to suffer so long

before one understands?

Why is it such a pain to learn?

Though time has made me weaker now,

I still refuse to surrender to despair,

I do believe when your journey

is finally complete,

the joy of that moment

when we shall meet again

will be so great that all the hard times

will vanish into the past.

 

If fate should be that I must go

before that moment comes,

then look for me in every flower,

in every cloud shape in the sky.

I shall come down to touch you in each drop of rain,

I shall be the air you breathe.

And when you release yourself

to the frolic of the waves

in the endless blue seas,

I shall be there to caress you

with every molecule of water.

I shall become the wind that sweeps your face,

the sun rays that wake you up each morning.

I shall travel with you

in all dimensions of the universe

for I do not know any boundaries.

 

The rain has stopped,

lights are fading in the houses near.

I listen to the sounds that magnify,

in the silence of the night.

Four walls, a roof and vast emptiness,

home is no home without you.

I am alone but not lonely,

volumes of memories keep me company

and all the time you exist within me.

Gently you stroke my hair

and I fall asleep…

 

Istanbul, 1977

Through The Wings of Time

 

One second more or less, will that make me richer or poorer in time? Yet, I happen to know decisions made in a split second or perhaps an incident that could occur in the same time frame have the power of changing everything. I try so hard to capture or speed up time, but it has its own pace despite my wishes.

So, I dip into time and try to exercise timelessness. Schrodinger’s Cat on my mind, I go to places my limited intelligence cannot comprehend. The heart does and gives me directions into my past lives beyond my current third dimensional reality.

I’m a pagan girl in a time not registered in time. I go to Göbeklitepe and dance to the tune of songs, sung by the pilgrims who come to the temple to worship nature, the animals and beasts. Surrounded by huge columns, with birds and animals carved on, I make offerings to the Gods and thank them for my blessings. A soldier takes my hand, puts a wreath of flowers on my head. We leave the temple and he takes me to his tent in the nearby hills.

Time changes and I’m in Africa, by the river Nile, crying tears of sorrow for my beloved Pharaoh. He has been taken ill and my life is at a standstill. All the medicines in the world cannot cure his ailment. They have poisoned him and there’s no antidote. His child in my belly, the heir to be born. I’m their next target, once my beloved is gone. I cannot leave him on his own and runaway yet, but I know a nomad village where my child and I will be safe.

I delve into Ramayana, in the temples of Bali, and run to the sea and wash my soul. I go to India and swim with my friends in the waters of Ganges, continue to Nepal and Tibet and become the lady who ages as she descends the mountain in The Lost Horizon.

A courtesan in the Ming court, a Japanese geisha in love with Shogun, and an Aborigine girl around Ayer’s Rock. A Maui singer in the Pacific, and a Polynesian who falls in love with Gauguin in Tahiti. I move on to the Island of Maui and see the volcano erupt in Hawaii. Many perish, but I’m saved by the fishermen and make my way into the Americas.

Inca, Aztec and Maya, I play ball in the courts of Chichen Itza. I move down south to Guatemala, Bolivia and Peru, and let the wise people guide me through their knowledge and magic revealed in the books of Castaneda.

I go on to Europe, move in the courts of Arthur, Ferdinand and Napoleon. Sometimes I’m a slave, sometimes a heretic they must burn, a princess, a courtesan, a peasant, a revolutionary or an ordinary wife struggling to raise a family. My Harem days in the Ottoman Court, come with a big return. I’m the mother of the Sultan’s second heir to the throne.

In the end, I reach Eden and see my great, great, and I don’t know how many times great, Grandmother sitting under the apple tree. She’s weeping, but there’s still love in her heart for me because I’m her great, great, and I don’t know how many times great, Granddaughter. The invisible ties of my mother’s mitochondrial DNA bring me to my origins. She hugs me and I fall asleep, weary of my travels.

I wake up before the alarm. I rise and look in the mirror. I see so many faces I do not know. I blink and rub my eyes. They disappear. I look at my reflection glancing back from the glass, and ask, “Who am I?”

 

Golden City

 

The sun sets over the Golden Horn,
the mystic silhouette of the ancient city
lingering in the background,
the minarets and domes of Sinan’s mosques,
watching over the Sultan’s Palace by the sea,
shimmering lights dance on the water,
as the ferries cruise in the harbour.
Passing by The Leander’s Tower,
our sailboat glides along the Bosphorus Channel,
you take my hand and hold it tight,
golden champagne and clinking glasses,
our anniversary of many years past.
The Rococo Palace on the left falls into sweet slumber,
as the city lights beguile the crowds
to another merry soirée in its bosom,
a golden necklace studded with gems,
the bridge sends down harlequin beams,
as we sail beneath its rainbow,
melodies of nostalgic old songs,
escape from the old houses along the quay,
evoking many memories of you and me,
our past flows into the present,
to celebrate our day.
Twinkling stars and a crescent moon,
the night sky guides us into a future together,
in the enchanting golden city of our love.

I am

I am the seagull in the sky,
watching the planet from my heights,
the earth is troubled with distress and turmoil.

I am the captain in the seas,
watching the shores where people live,
the towns are all hiding behind lies.

I am the pilot in the skies,
watching the lands roll beneath my craft,
the countries are all in deep conflict.

I am the hunter in the forest,
looking for game to fill my sack,
the hunter and the hunted have changed roles.

I am the mermaid in the seas,
viewing the humans on the shores,
their homes are full of despair and sadness.

I am the star that shines at night
over Gaia, weeping secretly in the dark,
when she sees the humans fight, spilling blood over her skin.

I am the child in the park, playing with my cheerful friends,
My mother tells me all things are bright and beautiful,
And the world is full of hope and promise.

I am Gaia in the galaxy, in need of help from my friends,
they come to relieve my pain and anguish,
giving me the strength to cleanse my body with wind and water.

I am the sun in the sky, things seem to have settled on Gaia,
after the floods, the storms and the earthquakes in between,
the humans have now found another way of living.

Alpha and Omega

I’m young and free,
buoyant and blithe, eager to explore life.
I dance and skip,
fall in love and then stumble.
I cry and moan, withdraw,
afraid to try it all over again.

I’m old and slow, sometimes sceptical and tired,
I know too much or not enough, perhaps simply nothing.
Nothing?
I can still dance, maybe even try to skip,
and relish the feeling despite the years.

I look at that young girl and wonder,
Why is she so sad? Is it the end of the world?
Don’t waste that feeling on the same One,
spread it out, share it, live it, over and over again.
That’s the only thing you can take with you,
you never forget it, it’s like riding a bike.

I wish I were you,
You wish you knew as much as I appear to.
I’m you, you’re me,
we’re the same, though we think we’re miles apart,
Alpha begins where omega ends and returns to omega.

La Belle Époque

Photo credit : -la-belle-epoque-de-jules-cheret-de-l-affiche-au-decor.jpg (800×1119) | Old French Posters and Advertisements | Pinterest

 

 

 

The theme of the dinner party was La Belle Époque,

In the vintage shop, I found a dress befitting Jane Avril.

Took it home, put it on a hanger and began imagining…

The urge was great, so I slipped into it.

The lights dimmed for a moment and

I was transported to a busy bar in Paris.

Champagne flowing, cigarette smoke hanging in the air,

as a pianist accompanied the sad song the soloist sang.

Toulouse came to say “Bonne soirée, ma chérie”,

but my eye was on the young Picasso, surrounded by alluring ladies.

Hiding in the corner with Zola was Pierre Currie,

having left Marie at the laboratory with her radiation tests.

Lumiére was looking up and down my gown,

to decide on my next role in his film,

as Picasso approached and bought me a drink.

Moulin Rouge, he said, or Casino de Paris or maybe even La Tour Eiffel.

Toulouse wasn’t too happy about this, but he joined the crowd,

carrying bottles of champagne in his hands.

We rode Lumiére’s automobile to the Eiffel with Colette.

Flirting with the winsome dames, in their haute couture,

Monet, Renoir, and Cezanne followed us,

in other autos with Michelin tyres.

We danced through the night in Parc du Champ de Mars,

on top of the tower, watching Paris and then,

we stopped at Moulin Rouge, meeting,

Andre Gide, Baudelaire, Mussorgsky and Stravinsky there.

Joie de vivre, absinthe, Can-can, poetry,

music, art, and literature hand in hand,

we roamed through Montmartre, Folies Bergére,

visiting each and every drinking hole,

cabaret, burlesque show, and ended up at the Ritz.

And we danced, and we danced, and we danced,

And I danced, and I danced, and I danced,

clinging to my dress …