I Should Have

I arose early this morning

In an abyss remorse

Of what I should’ve done

When you were around

When I was chasing after the wind

I should’ve stopped by your station

Only to say hello to your lone spirit

And when I was climbing

A dead-end tower to the top

I should’ve opened my blind eyes

Only to see that you were beneath

When I was buried

In the fantasy of my room alive

I should’ve opened my window

At least to let the light inside

And when I was a selfish Emperor

I should’ve opened my world

At least to let new born

When I heard an imploring knock

I should have hurried to the door

And open it before it was too late

And when you came by my side sobbing

I shouldn’t’ve undone my sword’s cane

Only to let your wound heal first

When you waved your hands

Helplessly sinking in my sea

I should’ve stopped my ship

To save you before expiring

And when you showed up

From other side of the road

I should’ve lowered down

My spaceship and let you in

When you appealed

I should’ve opened my book

To your favorite chapter

And when your heart

Was haunted with despair

I should’ve showed up from corner

For your smile to arise again

Now I stand alone in my universe

For my stupidity exceeded reality

And heart is reciting nonsense verse

Of what I should’ve done in past

(Apology of Not Posting)

It is my heartfelt duty to present my reason of spending two consecutive Saturdays without posting anything.
From 9th June, I've been seriously sick that I couldn't make it either to write anything new, or to stand anything with so much light like phone and computer screen therefore I had to wait my full recovery.
I will resume posting again this coming Saturday on 25th and I'm looking forward to hear from you again.
Oh, I hope your calendars are still marked 18th of July. Nothing has changed to the publication of Heart a Poet Cannot Tell.

Love!

Mark July 18th

“Every heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back.

Those who wish to sing always find a song. At the touch of a lover, everyone becomes a poet.” ─Plato

Poetry is merely not only words written on a sheet of paper, in books or anywhere else but also clouds of feelings forming in heart and mind and ready to split out at anytime, anywhere and everywhere.

It has been raining in my world, too,before even my birth and I fell for words and with words and now I understand that I am for poetry and poetry is for me. Poetry has been my safe haven and best companion and I write to retrieve a part of me pecked.

You’ve probably been seeing hashtag #markjuly18^th and wondered what it is all about, what will happen on July 18^th, and so on.

In order for my poems to be archived, on July 18^th I will self-publish my first poetry book in form of e-book. My book will be titled Heart a Poet Cannot tell and will consist a collection of my hundred best poems,few of which are published on my blog while others (a large pile of them) are not published anywhere else apart from my journals and of course on my heart (reading it will exactly be as penetrating in my heart, in my life, and in my feelings by how I tried to polish them with words and looking the surroundings through my eyes).

I titled it that way because I believe that there is nothing really a poet can’t tell, and when I found one, I thought it was worth treasuring in a book for generations to come.

I hope you will love it as much as I do and will allow me to know what your thoughts will be about it. Therefore, please mark July 18^th, 2016 on your calendars so you won’t forget.

I can’t put it in words how excited and eager I am to share my lifetime dream with you.

Shalom!

Millions and Uncountable

relationships do not last
or love simply does not exist
at all
when I think of it
every call to attempt
déjà vu
I keep looping about
back and forth,
just like that
round in spiral
I'm going to die immortal

in every breath swallowed
molecules of you are millions and
uncountable
like stars of the ocean
I wake up with passion
every morning
and die of keenness
omitting some pages
at night
when I dream about you
time jumps to two

Canvas of Heavens

In an empty room, nakedness on walls
I stand staring out of the sky and the doors
No sun’s in sight
To brighten the night

By closing the eyes I see not nothing but a figure
Drawn on a canvas of heavens I picture
Given are praises
Risen aren't praises

Walking alone through the time and the past
I and my mind are not aware of what happened at last
Missed is sleeping
Felt is another thing

I keep myself on track of life I’m not living
Like a painter with painting, I am with writing
Felt is something
Known is nothing

I do not write in my journal or about my hobbies
Instead on walls with no clothes on their bodies
But I love to write
What I cannot split