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  • A Poem in Coma

    A Poem in Coma

    My poem is in a coma,

    not dead.

    I hope it soon gets discharged

    from my mind’s bed.

    Then we’ll go for a walk

    along the seashore,

    watch the tides come and go

    and argue no more.

    I would have said

    it looked best in its natural state,

    it might feel betrayed

    to be trimmed, reshaped.

    Maybe my emotions leaked,

    spilled too quick,

    I don’t know what fever

    it happened to pick.

    But I am sure

    something went wrong,

    my poem was silenced

    mid-thought, mid-song.

    I try to revive it,

    restore its form,

    but this quiet coma

    feels like the norm.

    Oh poem, wake up,

    don’t drift too far,

    we still have a life

    exactly as we are.

  • The Person I Needed

    The Person I Needed

    I want to be that person

    who called me handsome

    when I had given up on my own reflection

    I want to be that person

    who placed a pen in my hand

    and left a book like a small direction

    I want to be that person

    who says hello and smiles

    when our paths cross without a reason

    Even as a stranger

    you can make someone feel seen

    just for a moment, just for a season

    Life moves how it wants

    I won’t force it into a race

    I’ll walk it, not chase

    But if feelings aren’t dead

    if something still lives in that space

    then tell me—

    who would you suspect

    in your emotions’ murder case

  • The Crane and the Weight

    The Crane and the Weight

    I wish a gigantic crane

    could lift the worries of the world

    and not remain here

    not become another weight

    on the same tired earth

    so humans could live light

    feather light

    free from the gravity of burdens

    free from possessions

    from the endless weight of wanting

    living simply

    calm as still water

    nothing to show

    nothing to prove

    no identity to defend

    no ego to polish

    no silent fractures between hearts

    no tension

    no heat of comparison

    only a wide breathing peace

    I wish we could float in open air

    talk with birds

    welcome them into our homes

    without teaching them fear

    without the shadow of cages

    a world where freedom

    is an unnecessary word

    because nothing is bound

    no borders

    no flags stitched into the soul

    I belong to no nation

    I am cosmopolitan

    a quiet citizen of the cosmos

    we all are

    but the crane cannot carry it all

    and it cannot stay

    if it lifts

    it must leave

    rising with the weight

    until both disappear

    beyond sight

    beyond reach

    and still

    something remains

    a quiet burden

    resting deep in the heart

    not to be removed

    not to be escaped

    but to be held

    to be shaped

    because in that hidden place

    we sculpt something beautiful

    and slowly

    without force

    without flight

    the soul grows light

  • The Rumor, The Slap, The Photo | A One-Sided Love Story

    The Rumor, The Slap, The Photo | A One-Sided Love Story

    if i could do something again

    something i regret

    something i shouldn’t have done

    i wouldn’t change everything

    just that beginning

    when a classmate

    made a rumor

    said you were my love interest

    i would say—

    i didn’t think about it at first

    it was just noise

    but then

    you reacted with anger

    said it wasn’t true

    and somehow

    that moment

    made me look at you differently

    i tried to ignore it

    tried to shut my friends up

    but like modern day tabloids

    like social media

    like a wired network that never sleeps

    my paparazzi friends

    made it viral

    across the whole school

    and then

    for some reason

    i validated a rumor

    i expressed myself

    openly sometimes

    secretly sometimes

    emails in the evening

    hotmail msn

    inside a cyber cafe

    and sometimes in person

    when you crossed that bridge

    near the school

    when no one was around

    your slap

    wasn’t personal

    i know

    you just wanted me to understand

    you were not into me

    tearing my valentine cards

    wasn’t personal either

    maybe you were saying

    love is not written

    in a few fancy words

    my one-sided story

    became popular

    a story i never meant to publish

    later i tried to clarify

    said i wasn’t into you

    but deep down

    i was

    for 10 years and more

    your memory stayed

    not always pain

    sometimes goosebumps

    sometimes happiness

    bittersweet

    like something unfinished

    i regret one thing the most

    telling my friends

    about that last photo

    i said

    it would be my first and last

    photoshoot with you

    you came prepared

    even brought your own cameraman

    ready

    for a simple picture

    but my friends again

    like paparazzi

    they swarmed

    you didn’t like it

    still

    somehow

    a picture was taken

    poor light

    bad angle

    not perfect

    but maybe

    better than nothing

    i don’t know

    if you ever got that photo

    but

    i’m sorry

    i couldn’t be part

    of your perfect camera click

  • Dry Heart, Wildfire Love

    Dry Heart, Wildfire Love

    It was never my fault

    that I loved them all.

    I only saw

    their sweetness,

    their quiet glow,

    and mistook it for warmth

    meant for me.

    So I leaned closer,

    again and again,

    begging for embers

    when my own heart

    was a dry forest,

    where even a spark

    could turn

    into a wildfire.

  • Falling Star, Falling Heart

    Falling Star, Falling Heart

    Hey… look,” she whispered,

    “A star is falling.”

    Her finger traced the sky,

    as if she could catch light itself.

    I didn’t look up.

    I held her hand instead,

    let the silence sit between us,

    soft… unhurried.

    Then I found her eyes

    and stayed there for a moment longer than needed.

    “Dear,” I said, quietly,

    “You don’t have to chase falling stars…

    You are the star for me.

    And I—

    I fall for you every time.”

  • The Ride Through Mustard Fields

    The Ride Through Mustard Fields

    wearing helmet as a shield

    pedalling along the black topped road

    watching hills and farmland sliding past

    we reached the mustard field

    the road rose and fell like breathing ground

    gears changed on the climb

    pedalling slower now

    sweat pulling at the skin

    breath turning loud inside the chest

    until we reached the top

    gear shifted

    and the cycle began to move without us

    no pedalling

    just surrender to the downhill

    suddenly it felt like a glider breaking loose from weight

    floating through open air

    carefree

    like a bird that forgot the idea of cages

    in a sky without edges

    we greeted people along the way

    waving at passers by

    hi and hello

    small moments passing like sparks

    a train crossed the distant tracks

    cutting through the horizon

    and i raised my hand to it

    like it was an old friend disappearing again

    hoping to meet it again

  • Swinging Beyond Gravity

    Swinging Beyond Gravity

    swinging like a swing

    if i sway a little more

    maybe i can touch the sky

    and if i do

    i wont come back the same

    i will sit on a cloud

    like it knows me

    like it has been waiting

    i will greet birds

    not as strangers

    but as something i forgot i was

    today

    gravity can rest

    it has been holding too much anyway

    let it sleep

    i will take every moment

    before it slips

    before it asks me to be something

    if clouds decide to rain

    let me fall with it

    not as fear

    but as a drop

    ocean or lake

    it does not matter

    i just dont want to land

    as myself again

    i think

    the cloud wont feel my weight

    because maybe

    i was never that heavy

    maybe

    it was just my thoughts

    pretending to be stones

    like an alarm

    my worries

    i will not set them today

    no jobs

    no commitments

    no clock chasing my breath

    i am here

    just here

    with nothing to do

    and for once

    nothing is waiting for me

    not even time

    oh swing

    if you are still moving

    slow down

    because i know

    this is where it ends

    i have to step down

    back into a world

    that speaks truth

    but tastes like lies

    a world that wears meaning

    but feels empty inside

    and maybe

    it was never outside

    maybe

    it was always in here

    inside this mind

    where i can still

    erase everything

    come back

    sit again

    and swing

    and soften

  • The Last Flight of Hope

    The Last Flight of Hope

    He stood on the cliff edge

    wind braiding his silence into the sky

    below

    a restless ocean of faces

    eyes like broken mirrors

    each reflecting a different hunger

    world is such a beautiful place my dear friends

    his voice drifted

    not spoken

    but released

    why carry the dust of hate

    why stitch betrayal into your own skin

    why carve storms inside a body made for sunrise

    the crowd shifted

    a trembling forest of doubt

    roots tangled in centuries of fear

    and then

    he let go

    not falling

    but unfastening from gravity

    for a moment

    time forgot its duty

    he became a question

    hovering between earth and forever

    and the crowd

    they did not cheer

    they did not scream

    they watched

    as hope

    that fragile reckless bird

    learned again

    how to fly

  • The Aroma That Calls You Back

    The Aroma That Calls You Back

    What is your favorite restaurant?

    Aroma in my nose

    right from the stairs

    to the top floor

    even if you are passing through

    the aroma pulls you back

    like a rubber

    tied in your heart

    wouldn’t let you go

    even if you reach far

    you get curious

    you couldn’t resist

    that feeling—warm, inviting

    like

    half of the hunger

    already filled

    by the intensity of smell

    morning, day or night

    food fills your appetite

    craving increases

    and when you absorb

    the love-filled nutrients

    the heart becomes light

    the belly becomes tight

    my home is my restaurant

    where my mother’s handmade food

    brings me great delight