Hayatin kafiyesi kadar siirimin kafiyesi. Ya ben anlamadim hayati; ya da kafiyesi anlamindaydi hayatin, Susu ve kafiyesi bazen bogardi manalari... Kulaga, dile "hos", gonle "bos" gelirdi belki. Yazmak istedim hep ahenkle, ama suslu kelimelerim yoktu benim. Kafiyeli yazamadim, kafiyeli yasayayim dedim hayati; ama olmadi. Kelimelerimin yakasina yapismisken tek tek, sokagin sonunda nokta kesti yolumu. Bazi yerlerde virguller silikti, vurgulari yanlis anladim yazilisi dogru oldugu, dogru okudugum halde, dogru anlamadim dogrulari. Bazen care bastan baslamakti. Civiyi daha yana cakmaliydi, hayat tablosu asili orulmus kader duvarinda. Ne civi pasli olmaliydi, ne de cakildigi yer curuk. Bunda duvarin bir sucu yoktu.

Tablomu asacagim bir duvarim vardi benim. Ama ince, ama kalin orulmus, ama ses geciren, soguk geciren veya gecirmeyen. Duvarimin arkasi belki bir mezarliga belki de bir cocuk parkina bakardi. Kelimelerimin rengi duvara yakisti mi, peki sigdilar mi tabloma? Kelimeler mi kisaltilmaliydi yoksa tablo mu genislemeliydi? Ya da kelimelerim cok kisa ve yavan miydi buyuk bir tablonun icinde?

Yoksa bir paragrafin ozlemi ile calakalem ozlem mi animsatmaliydi ilk paragrafim sonraki paragrafimin aceleciligi ve sabirsizligi sezilecek gibi. Sadede mi gelmeye calisiyordum yoksa noktadan intikam almak pesinde hizli kelimelere binip dort nala kovaliyor muydum noktayi? Kovalarken bir gun uc nokta ile tanistim, nutkum tutuldu, nokta cetesi ile intikam pesindeydi, kesti kalemimin dilini. Iste o gunden beri kafiyemi yitirdim ben mezarligin sokaginda ...

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My poem's rhyme is as much as rhyme of life. I don't understand life, or its rhyme is in the meaning, sometimes its ornament and rhyme drowns meanings. It comes nice to tongue, ears; but it may come to heart empty. I always wanted to write with accordance, but i didn't have ornamented words. I couldn't write with rhyme, i intended to live the life with rhyme, it didn't go. When I collared my words one by one, dot shut my way at the end of street. In some places, commas was barely perceptible, i misunderstood emphasises however their writings were correct, though i read them correct, i didn't get corrects correctly. Sometimes solution was to start again. Nail should has been nailed somewhere different on the destiny wall which contains picture of life. The nail musn't has been rusty nor it musn't has been dicky where it has been nailed. The wall was not guilty in this...

I had a wall where i can hang my picture. It is slight or bold, permeable voices and cold or unpermeable. Maybe back of my wall was looking at a graveyard or a children's playground. Did the colour of my words suit to wall? And did they fit into my picture? Was it required to shorten words or was it required to widen the picture? So was my words so short and simple in a big picture?

Should my first paragraph has been reminded "longing" scribbled down with restlessness and impatience of writing my next paragraph? Was i trying to find the end or was i chasing the dot riding my rapid words galloping? Someday i met ellipsis, i became speechless, dot was after revenge, cut the tongue of my pen. I lost my rhyme since that day in the street of graveyard ...

Ahmet Cicek
03:47 - 26.12.2007