The Web Poetry Corner
The Web Poetry Corner
If you have comments or suggestions for Ibrahim Ercan, you can contact this author at:
firstname.lastname@example.org (Ibrahim Ercan)
Find a book store near you, no matter where you are located in the U.S.A.!
...the best independent ISP in the Twin Cities
Cycling the Accustomed Sphere
What has changed so far I ask
from the primitive to the coming rest
We love, hate, fear and envy
what the nature of man can see
Man is still in his surrounded wall,
cycling the accustomed sphere of war
Peace when we need to have a rest
in the course of the biting distress
Silence! Please, in the chambers of soul
Man still needs to learn more.
The moment you fall into my heart
I will be looking through your eyes
With a sweet smile on my face
I will let myself soar to your grace.
In the blue skies over there
Could you take my soul away
To your beautiful realm of gratitude
As the perfection of your magnitude.
Nothing more than a shadow
Of your light in this world of hollow
Will be something of sorrow
When I didnít perceive the real joy.
Coming out of nothingness
When I was something of ignorance
Then I became a thing in this field
Of planting my everlasting seed.
My birds, flying in the seven layers
Carry a message on their wings
For those who can feel the grace
Of flying up in the lofty place.
The Truth Hunter
Your grace, shining in all seconds of passing time
With the penetrating feeling of heart so divine
Gives me undiluted sweetness of think
Of your awe-inspiring loftiness the moment I blink.
Everything, prostrating in all their strength
To glorify your countless blessings so great
Are harmoniously singing the hymn of eternity
By praising your names, full of sublime dignity.
Reflections of your names in this sovereignty
Are the images of sunshine, hidden in the purity
Of believing in your absolute Omnipresence
Without ascribing any idols that are meaningless.
Those, conceived by the increasing delusions
Of Satan, always at the back of decisions
To astray man from the path of righteousness
By degrading him from the rank of nobleness.
Your Beloved ensued in the wilderness of Arabia
To rescue mankind out of this deuced malaria
Of turning down the pearls of the Blessed Book
That was revealed with the Trustworthy Spirit.
His conduct you praised in your purified pages
Just as the reflections of your timeless messages
On the surface of the earth was an exemplary attitude
As dear Ayeshah praised him as the epitome of servitude.
As a rosy memorial in the garden of history
I feel obliged to proclaim his mystery
Which made people live in the serenity
Of thought and action in simplicity.
We were honored with descending of the Criterion
From the exalted throne to this field of exertion
Coming with the purified pages therein
To warn and herald the people and jinn.
Its message, full of pearls is tour de force
With the sweetness of listening to its voice
Every verses and chapters of that eternal message
Bears the wisdom of truth for man in this passage.
The Bitterly Missed One
O! The one who came from the candid place
to guide us towards the core of infinite grace
of Allah Almighty who is in His exalted place
It's He, showed His beauty on all beings' face
Without you there would be no illumination of living
who would make us prosperous on the coast of being
with your God-made ship in this ephemeral, tiny thing
to take us to eternal adobe of the One, everlasting
Your bounteous mercy that embraces the all living
in this universe for all that possess the feeling
of being subservient to the One, the All-Hearing
will make them taste the sweetness of believing.
Anything that doesn't exhort your love of mercy
upon mankind like a sun with its cool intimacy
will certainly perish like ashes of fire slowly
by leading them to the world of loneliness wholly
On the Day of Judgment everyone will be questioned
from what they've done as they've been guided
with revelations, pouring from the skies, protected
from the accursed ones with firing stones, hurled.
Only your light will rescue us out of such grief
by guiding the people to the rose bed of belief
in every soul of man just as fidgeting, divine relief
as how one gets it through the mystery of belief.
In the secret time of the Dawn,
We search the light of Divine.
We turn our eyes to eternity,
and hope to be in safety.
It's the light, comes from eternity,
It stands for the peace of humanity.
Those who reached it are all happy
and wish only the life of eternity.
O! Our Lord, bestow us the light holy,
Please! Do not leave our souls in agony.
Surely You are the One and Holy,
Only will give us the light holy.
Then comes the help of the Creator,
It's the solemn voice of all creatures.
The Next Journey
No real escape from anything you digest
All you need is just an action to get best
Day and night you waste your time in vain
Any rescuing hand in practice is no villain.
To your understanding everything is naught,
just a thing to rejoice at the best thought
you hear no thunder in sight in your world
Alas! Where the hell all intimacies streaked
without escorting any worldly goods indeed!
You're alone now in this desert, having no water
stranded in the very core of thirst for a better
life when given the opportunity to turn back later
to spend it on the edge of good and bad whatsoever.
'Too late, man! ĎItís said to new, eternal dwellers
of the new adobe, ready to welcome misleaders
giving loads of love with scalding hot embraces.
There they will dwell on the things in repentance.
A shabby life
life with its vague complexity
bites me in its poisonous sea
my body is trembling
like a sparrow in a tree
with fears and cold emotions
that I canít make out
the question about
what is life?
I can see nobody,
looking out the fogy
windows of my soul
but itís me
who will figure out
the gist of my broken story
children of a lost
country with no mum and dad
their dreams are mere dead
in the terrifying field of ghost
their plans are the most
who will remember!?
the injured and the disabled
or the raped brutally
on the pages of history
with dirty and bloody ink
no eraser will blot out
the sin that they committed
save the blazes of a furious fire
in the hollows of forgotten dire
no body will feel sorry
as no relation or tie
is with them now ready
the children of a doomed country.
A Wonder of Creation
Your soul in a glass of vibrating water
reminds me of that perfect Maker
with an art of creation in the subtle manner
through the mystery on the path of the Shaper.
When I drink it up with an exhilarated feeling,
it slakes my thirst for that desire, so long lasting
by making me a drop of rain, falling to the ocean
lets my heart soar over the vastness of blue waves.
A particle in the horizon of light, having all the colors
of that eternal Light, coming far from the Unseen,
sets my heart on your marvelous, tremendous nature
thatís the eternal source for every living creature.
Every line, written in the chapters of the great Book
in every part of it is hidden a really wonderful look
for those who gaze upon in the reflective attitude
to the style of the Writer who has perfectly created.
Escapade without Time
dreamy imaginations, hung in the short-sighted eyes
with a slap to darkness and a hand of merci to days
while waiting between two points
the zipped life trauma tics
with the clipped wings of time
the disabled trusty dove
which canít fly up in the heavens
while watching the dreams
when loneliness stole
the wisdom, built with light beams
the empty shells, scattered through the streets
who will remember all these calamities?
when the moon enshrined its wavy, smiling skirts
from the strange, worldly skins
and now the winds of darkness
licking the covers of street pavements
the last elegy of the ancient city
would the police of time remember
the thieves who stole the naked folk songs
or the hollowed ashes on the brittle shelves?
My missing ball
all the missing pieces of my life glimpse at me
as how the moonshine is seen
through the leaves of my lonely body
a lost memory of the past,
in a dusty speck all at once
with a blink of eye I recall
what the broken pieces in my ball,
rolling down through streets of ambiguity
on the edges of past and now
where the paths fork into
deaf and blind alleys that I donít know.
with my worn up, old shoes
I find myself in the uncharted waters
to protect my winter flowers
in their hot frames
unconscious of the present,
flying on the wings of my birds
there in the sky!
here I try
to find a place
that will take me
to somewhere else
as clear as the unclothed sky
where my birds can fly
to the east when the sun is up
in the hills of my fluctuating heart
on their wings they carry me
on one side is my soul
on the other side is my body
I set sail to eternity.
A Log in the Sea
When your tender heart is perplexed by the itchy tides
Of your fluctuating emotions, dropping in your coast sides
Unaware of the secret gleam of that flourishing might
Be ready to uncover the mystery of that eternal light
Thatís from your God. With the pressure of the moon
Youíll be feeling the grace that will come soon.
When your wooden-made ships sank
In the wilderness of the oceans below
Hoping to reach the comfy bank
Let your heart grasp the pearls above.
Like Jonah when he was swallowed
By a whale in the sea of blank thought
Only his cry to his Lord was responded
Rejecting the all helpers that were naught.
When night, whale, weather and angry waves were his enemies
There was only his Almighty Lord who could subdue all these
Giving His hand to him to catch the life buoy of eternal living
To set sail across the vast oceans of his Lord the ultimate being.
Who can help you in this awesome darkness
Of thought and feelings when you are helpless
With the irritating feeling of death, following
Like your dark shadow while you are walking.
You in this poisonous sea of emotion
Shiver with the cold feeling of voyage
To the imperishable land of perfection
With some difficulty to pass this passage.
And man forgot his Lordís loftiness
As he was taken from nothingness.
With his spurious whispers of evilness
Devil gives you some water of delusions
To drink it and get drunk in hallucinations
Of illusionary and so called happiness.
Being lead astray from the straight way
Ignoring the merci of your God, you day
By day draw close to the next journey.
The moment death angelís before you
To take your soul that is in expired due
You canít act now in this life channel
Your stream doesnít flow to the eternal runnel.
Unaware of the confidential postal
Of your relatives to the ground hotel
You canít bring any partner to mingle
With you as this hotel is for a single.
Who can challenge the entire negative?
You spent your life as a sinful fugitive
Without your Godís good consent
Leave a message that youíre absent
From the rapturous joy of the countenance
Of your Lord youíve never been in repentance.
And man forgot his Lordís clemency,
Leaving himself in the sheer deviancy.
O our bountiful and merciful God
Give us your imperishable hand
To pull us from the well of sin
To your calm and relaxing inn.
Any word, flying up in the heavens,
Canít glorify you in prefect meanings
Only your heart-illuminating light will be manifest
All over the world even though unbelievers detest.
A prescription for our malady
That we ignored as a sheer melody
Is your Blessed Book in harmony
Though we consider it as agony.
Weíll write our inmost feeling
On a pure log, floating in breaking
Waves, visiting our sinful shore
That our intimate emotions bore.
Pouring its overflow water
To the hearts of oceans
Open their gates later
To your splendid heavens..
In the middle of weak and strong dreams,
the two tips of magnets in their beams.
Wherever he turns his eyes,
the game of the invisible and his mice.
The tricks of owl and the threads of dove
One must wrap up that momentís flying soul.
Human faces, hung in the city balconies
The cat of the house and the othersí symphonies_
The black holes and moles of scorpions
that we squeezed to one side of our pockets
and the eye of our ears when it sometimes sleeps.
The door creak that pierces the moment
and now the last passenger of this city is coming
with spiky feathers and light pebbles.
Outside of Time
Human bundles walk on the one way road
With the rush of life, zipped to bus stop intervals
Children of time wait on the pavements
Of non-existing route.
While strolling in the suburbs of the city
Against all of the trafficís difficulty
And a group of women, outside of an excluded life
With containers and cardboard chunks.
The changed face of the same source;
One is money and the other is cardboard
One is in the pocket and the other is in the street halls.
Twisted smiles on the wavy face
shift the tides of emotions in their bays
Now and then what the mystery bear
the wisdom I washed in the weeping rain.
Talking shadows, hidden in the moonless night
with bare dreams shiver in the spiky heart.
The axis of time, running in its cradle
up and down, bouncing the momentís candle
There with the children of ages at last,
Play without the rush of life in the leaking past.