Baris Bavkir


Time Is Our Enemy


Seasons pass by while I still.
It is neither the zephyr, blowing shrill,
That gives me the thrill.
Nor the coldness of a winter chill,
Which makes me ill.
It is the time; with a relentless will,
That breezes through my window sill.

Submitted: Friday, August 23, 2013
Edited: Friday, August 23, 2013
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Poet's Notes about The Poem

These lines represent the out cry, the reprehension of an Oriental boy who has to live his love with his Italian girl friend seperated from each other in different countries. Despite of every severity they have to bear, time is the only efficient that hurts the most

Comments about this poem (Time Is Our Enemy by Baris Bavkir )

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  • Unwritten Soul (8/23/2013 7:01:00 AM)

    The poems sounds good, but notes here clear more a picture about two hearts..it is a beautiful poem indeed_Soul (Report) Reply

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