A last look from my window

Now that I am no longer there, I spend my time gently prying lose the tentacles that hold my emotions engaged to the time spent in Istanbul. I had the good fortune to have a window looking out on where the Bosporus meets the Golden Horn, and where the Golden Horn runs down the Sea of Marmara, past the Sultan’s Palace, past the Hagia Sofia, and past the Blue Mosque. Names that invoke mystery, and I got to look at them on a daily basis.

In the distance, the Asian side where the harbor of Haydarpasa and Kadakoy shine in the sun. Closer by, the shores of Uskudar, in front the Kiz Kelesi Tower. All day long, ships of all sizes would come and go, birds would fly over and, a few times, dolphins sped by on their way to the next feeding grounds.

My window painted a never still picture of light playing on water beneath ever changing skies. This constant presence inspired me to try my hand at a, for me, new form of poetry.

ON THE BOSPORUS: a collection of Haiku’s

Lacy spheres pulsing

Gelatinous rings below

The Bosporus calms

Floating cities

From the mists of Marmara

Tourists up above

Ships crossing pulsing

Birds skimming for tasty treats

Small boat keeps balanced

Skies sweet rose on blue

Golden light descending

Evening painter

Stirring up water

From Marmara they have come

Rising from the mist

Ships like city blocks

You never need to leave home

The future of tourism

Curtains of rain

Dark clouds tumble on darkening waters

Seagulls with silver bellies

Filigree of rain

Stringing water to dark sky

Birds soar like angels

And then it starts

Between dark sky and restless water

Streaks of lightning

Weather worn facade 

Torn curtain black with soot

Abandoned home 

Blackened curtain whips

From broken window

Shattered glass in worn down wood

Clouds rumble in

Water churns decisively

Boats keep rushing by

They keep rolling in

Clouds keep flashing like silver

Black egret shakes head