the loneliest one to ever live
on a deserted island piece
can’t stop feeling left out,
no escaping to modernity
happily in acceptance with reality
and grander-god-like people
watching over makes it feel
like an opportunity
to shout their names
to the distant land out of reach
and not sure of whether
they will hear or not
whether it will only cause
them to scratch their ears
and to look for a fly’s existence,
running from one corner to the other
hoping at the same time
to forget about others
and chances lost in exile
-an exile by…


I’ve fallen hard and deep for you girl,
no other words can I find to say.
For nothing can express the love I have girl,
and even I can’t understand.

This is a pitfall, with no light
brick walls are mostly wet
& only voice or sound I wish for is you,
My stomach is empty but I don’t even want food.

My El Dorado, my Atlantis
I’m not able to find you but
I know you exist, and with treasures,
but you live without knowing me.

I wish to find you and hold you dear in my arms,
we could share a glass of wine, even if I don’t like it,
but it could be disastrous for you,
for my love for you, might be hard to know or live.

Photo by Yoav Hornung on Unsplash


Do your hands feel the pain too,
when you peel a clementine?
Its dreams are taken away by you,
and so are its love and lust.

Common interest of a fruit
Can and will crush my soul
Break it in half,
I will remember you with clementines.

Unreality of the green and brown,
what is your love about?
Mine is kept behind a door
and key is on the floor.

Do not take it and throw it away,
my love will not rot like a clementine. …


It is a way of expression,
of one’s ideal world
and condition.

I see Hecate in me,
Selene and Artemis.
They are my ancestors,
as the witches before me.

With snakes I feed my soul
and torches, my body.
I followed the moon,
as it followed me.

I feed off of men,
to prevent them from doing the same.
I feel just as powerful,
without being beautiful.

My spells only help me,
to reunite with myself
for I always zone out, in life
and see myself before me, lost in thoughts.

I do no harm and prevent it even.


Every turn of every page
is a new opportunity for some
so is the new sun rising barely at the edge
of the skyline, without a clue as to
what is sure to happen
and without any remembrance
of the same day we’ve been living.
A loop without an ending
and a water well seeming infinite,
it is not clear what stands at the bottom
only way to know
is to get in.

Photo by Mikołaj on Unsplash


No soul wants old in this earth,
no one wants to feel the sand texture
through eyes anymore. Everything
and every made-believe invention
makes the old forgotten.

Leaving your chances to destiny
or waiting a little longer
while hoping that it will come out good
but always burning a few,
do NOT make me renew.

New is the boxed cake,
just tap the button and it will make you one.
A hungry stomach, waiting to consume,
it is easier to numb.
Just capture the real clouds, not the tech.

Unfiltered reality in a sense
once so high in value, sentimental
now only high in price
for no one chooses it
or because of its antiquity.

Is giving up on past this easy?
We are being replaced
by the figures we don’t understand,
another roll reached safely the shelter
what if sun made a visit first?

Photo by Andrey Konstantinov on Unsplash


Nowhere to go, and be fully unchained,
anytime and anyplace measured long as life
will possess somebody to feel threatened by.
Questions like ‘where to?’, remains unanswered
for not a single soul knows the destination.
Lost in time and among the papers weighing two tones,
and some machines that only takes more time.

Scraps of fabric, used and done and forgot
gravity attracts someone’s feet, to stand
but it all comes to some conclusion
except from the question of ‘where to?’. …

Marble Lady

Under the cold gray illustrations
and with a book started but forgotten
a statue beholds. With no notion
of life, prisoned inside the marble.

Once in a while, her nostrils might
smell kokoreç. Her ears could hear
the sounds of people who sell things
on a wheelbarrow. It might be her choice
to act this way, might be her creator’s.
Her livers are probably filled with gas
and smoke of other people.

She could be feeling high above the clouds
and when someone puts out their cigarettes
on her, she could feel burned.
Being looked down on is not unfamiliar…


Another man-told story
showing their injustice
killed a woman for her beauty
and even Goddess casted her spell.

Snakes became her only friend
for they came out of her head.
Stone maker eyes
reflects the once beautiful one.

The God of the SEA!
Gave himself the right to attack her in the temple.
Beautiful Goddess resented the wrong one.
She blamed her and not the God of Divine.

Her charm so effective
that made the most beautiful Goddess
jealous. She helped Perseus. Hectic.
Hermes helped, ruthless.

Medusa would come -she was evil-
when you called for the devil.
She died for she was a mortal.
And Perseus became a hero for the immortal.

Photo by Roi Dimor on Unsplash

p.s. written on April 2nd

Deadly Muse

Torn apart boots that I used to love
and I wrote letters until he died,
my never-ending love suffocated the man
’till he couldn’t survive.

Bended and cracked book spines
I was drunk on Muse’s songs,
it became so inspirational that deadly
some fairies took my soul, bravely.

Duygu Dindoruk

Hi! I post my poems here. I'm studying American Culture and Literature and I love art.

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