Content in Poetry
A warning, perhaps, or an attempt to distance and settle accounts. In any case, there is no situation that can change what happened, it is impossible. Maybe the poem is an inner voice after regrets...
Are you ready to witness a love saga that starts in Cizre and ends in Diyarbakır? Maybe you can find something of yourself in this epic love story? Maybe some loves don't deserve to be forgotten.
my hands crumble it's hard to write poetry my strings struggle remembering you in lines
it's fall the colors change from yellow to red I hide in the shade of an apricot tree so the sun won't burn my skin so much
It is not known whether we suffer or the ordeal pulls us... The poem in the 8th issue of ‘Hayaller Kağıda’ Magazine was written by Sidar Sevimli.
A white snow day, The lover's hope is shattered, His heart was frozen, His heart needed warmth,
I am wounded by the hand of love, I am dying in the land of love, I'm in the dungeon of love, I am a prisoner in the desert of Majnun,
O my heart's content. Your love with the scent of Firdevs, You burned me like fire, O coy lover, Isn't it enough that you made me burn so much?
Every lover falls into a well, This well is neither in Canaan, Nor in Yemen, Nor in Fizan,
When you least expect it, Love rains from the sky, And the rain of love in your heart, A drop falls
You're in a well, cold and lonely A lion at the head, a dragon at the bottom The white and black mouse gnaws the rope you hold on to Who will establish this order, is there no remedy?
First hours of the Sun Fresh mud stains on my pants, I am on the way to my school, Dogs attacking from cover.
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