Okan Emanet

Okan Emanet Poems

Over the valleys of my heart extends a new flower,
Throughout the empire of lonesome plants grows an unusual clover
The prophecy to be uttered is a sure star for any evil eye,
Whereby an excellent waterfall arouses a lie and tie

Sitting at the doorstep of the destiny,
The rhyming soul sheds the tears of blood
There is no sound coming from the tune of humanity
And shine the very existence of a lady on my plot

Just as God controls all His sons in the rhyme of universe,
We are called 'Per-son' in the realm of any verse
And the resulting effect is the divine mood and ease
The individuals get a sacred shelter in case of tease

While flowing down with the mysterious essence,
The rivers and streams release what can be called your sense
All around the steps of the valleys shines the sun of your beauty,
Pointing the inner and outer parts of what is missing in me

I am a man with countless wounds in the heartache kingdom
As a crying baby suffers from tortures in the camp of serfdom
All around by bleed and feed soul exists only one word 'boredom'
Among the cold bushes of the crowds, I demand to be your freedom

With the same song on and on for a long time,
With a heart utterly away from each life's rhyme,
With the loads of tears dropping in a bleeding way,
With the awesome knife in my hand drawing my say,

There is no talented characterization for the grace on your eyes,
Nor is there equivalence in the kingdom of miraculous paradise
Every field of etymology becomes disabled in front of your glance;
What you have left as a trace over me is written in my own sense

For anyone to challenge love, it is necessary to be sad
You carry the ashes along your heart you have to add
Time becomes a callous instructor, leading to go mad
Who has come before will go by who is passing by their hat

Merely intent on one miraculous word has become a lone paragraph,
There is an individual yelling the meaning of tomorrows in a miserable photograph,
A self-recognition in the stardom has fallen into a serfdom of pain-graph,
I am reading the lines of an etymologist’s biography under a subtle autograph,

In the course of watching the movie over my face, something becomes really plain,
There is a kind of fall-in-love sensation growing either inside or outside on a plane
When the dropp falls upon my head soon after the burning sunny weather in the rain,
Thoughts turn into a sort of chaos, whereby hearts are suffering due to the blocked drain

I have forgotten the meaning under any sense that was once rhythmic
Nothing touches my soul in the vein of life and nothing is any longer hectic
Over a thin line of survival lies no gain,
Which brings neither breath nor pain

The selves living in the palaces witness a truth
Life, as it is called, is a drama including every oath
Starting from youngster to adulthood, eating your youth
The tolls get to ring, bringing forward all the words to mouth

When told to hold a pen in order to write a poem,
The sacred feeling over the mountains asks who I am
In response, that being is water flowing with soul,
Carrying the pieces of rocks that will never stay cool

Fear, by word, by definition
Has never been in my term
Being challenged by anyone
No matter how this could be done

Tell me a story, in which love is a kind of remedy,
Hatred is a thing of the past
Something gets ignited over my soul at any glance
I have bestowed all my years to your heavenly stance

In some humans’ mind tags along the meaningless sense,
“Money speaks in sorting out any wound, any ache and pain”,
Nobody dares to ask what causes the veins of a heart so tense
In between the wires of assault, I have become trapped in a fence

The trace of happiness is missing in his eyes,
All around him tag along countless lies,
Word by word drops the number of ties,
Eventually coming across the real truth we realize

Torrential rain is falling down in the pool of my heart
In every dropp there is a world being equipped with you
Having fed upon the nutrition of your soul, part by part
Having fulfilled the thirst on your beauty of glamorous hue

The Best Poem Of Okan Emanet

Betulip, Dedicated To Poetiwife

Over the valleys of my heart extends a new flower,
Throughout the empire of lonesome plants grows an unusual clover
The prophecy to be uttered is a sure star for any evil eye,
Whereby an excellent waterfall arouses a lie and tie
You are my beauty, the name of whom is Betulip
Let me sigh over, shining every morning so as to have a love-clip
Let me water my leaves that are about to wither and slip
Intensify the inner and outer part of the world, let it be tulip
There is a world lying here; let it die out through your lip

You've glanced at me before,
But I certainly need much more;
Otherwise, I am standing at your door

Okan Emanet Comments

Metin Sahin 01 January 2014

all are useless not saying anything..he must learn english first

4 3 Reply

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