confessions

serco

- Yazar -

  1. toplam entry 2898
  2. takipçi 1
  3. puan 79806

hayatın ağır gelmesi

serco
ne zaman hafif geldi ki? her zaman omuzlarda bir yuk, akilda sorunlar, karmasalar, gel-gitler.. hayatla ugra$tigin surece, hayat daha cok ugra$ir senle. $ikayetlerin, kizmalarin, bagirmalarin, savurdugun kufurler sure dursun, hayatta kar$iligini o derece verir i$te. hayat istendigi gibi gelseydi insana, mucadelenin, ya$am hakkin icin sava$manin, kendini korumanin anlami da olmazdi!

korku

serco
guzel bir ozdemir asaf siiridir..

aldanacaksan sevgilerinde, saf sevgilerinde
insanlarin yalanci gururlarina..
kalacaksan parlak sozlerin etkisinde,
kelimelerinle onlara kapilacaksan,
yasama!

oyun yapip oynarlar seni
geceleri aralarinda.
sarki yapip soylerler dostlarina,
roman gibi okurlar bos zamanlarinda.
masal yapip anlatirlar cocuklarina.

aldanacaksan gecelerinde, kara gecelerinde
aydinlik dunyalarin sen insanlarina.
yanilip icini acacaksan,
derdini gizelemeden durmayacaksan,
yasama!

saklarlar dinlediklerini
en zayif zamaninda vururlar seni.
uyduramazsan fikirlerine
basibos hareketlerini,
defe koyup calarlar seni.

dunya kacti gozume’den..

var

serco
bir ozdemir asaf siiri:

deniz nerede piril piril,
nerede yolculuklar, yollar..
orada adimlarim var.

trenler midir gelen, insanlariyla..
gemiler midir giden, dumanlariyla,
orada gozlerim var.

sayisiz yesil rengi yapraklar mi verir..
tadlari, meyvalari, gidalari
agaclar mi verir, topraklar mi verir..
orada agizlarim var.

renk renk, bicim bicim acan cicekler mi..
ilkyaz dolu bahceler mi..
ses kaynayan geceler mi..
orada duyularim var.

nerede kuslar, orada kulaklarim.
nerede taslar, topraklar, ellerim orada.
nerede sevilecek vucud ve kadinlar,
orada kollarim, dudaklarim var.

dunya kacti gozume’den..

sabaha kadar

serco
cok guzel bir ozdemir asaf siiridir..

dunya o kadar buyuk ki;
bir noktayim ortasinda, ne yapsam.
bazan da o kadar kuculuyor ki dunya,
devrilecek saniyorum, kimildarsam.

hayat o kadar uzun ki,
oyle bitmez geliyor ki bir an..
bir de bakiyorum, o kadar kisaliyor ki;
ne cikar, diyorum, bir hayattan.

saadet o kadar lazim ki yasayana;
billahi can verir ugrunda insan.
hem o kadar bos ki mesud olmak,
gun yuzu gormeden olenlerin arkasindan.

ben o kadar onemli kisiyim ki,
o kadar iyiyim ki aklim ve dusuncelerimle.
o kadar da fenayim ki ben
delice niyetlerimle.

gece; ne kadar karanlik ve sessizsin..
oyle kaplayorsun ki evleri, yollari, denizleri.
hem o kadar aydinlik ve seslisin ki;
cilginca costuruyorsun bizleri.

sabah; bir yeni dunya gibi geliyorsun;
oylesine suslu, oylesine saadesin ki..
sen o kadar guzelsin ki sabah,
o kadar guzelsin ki.

dunya kacti gozume adli siir kitabindan..

para kazanma zorunluluğu

serco
ne yazik ki ya$ayabilmek, hayatta kalabilmek, kafamizi bir cati altina sokabilmek, evimizde musluktan suyun akmasini temin edebilmek icin az veya cok miktarda para kazanmak zorundayiz. hayatimizi cogu zaman i$ hayatimiza gore duzenlemek zorundayiz. kimilerimiz $ansli bir kesim olarak sevdikleri ve keyif aldiklari i$lerle ugra$abilmekteyken, kimilerimiz mecburiyetten, ba$ka $ansi olmadigindan, evine ekmek goturmek zorunda oldugundan, $undan veya bundan, belki nefret ettigi, belki her gun kufur ettigi insanlik di$i $artlarda, insandi$i patronlarla cali$makta. sabahin korlerinde evden cikmakta, gecenin bir yarisi evine donmekte bir cogumuz. kendisine ayirabildigi tek zaman, ak$am yemegini tiki$tirirken iki satir televizyona bakmak cogumuzun.

cogumuz sadece kira ve faturaya cali$maktayiz. para biriktirmeyi, yatirim yapmayi aklimizdan bile gecirememekteyiz bir cogumuz. barinmanin bedeli cok agir bu ulkede.

evet. parayla mutluluk olmaz. ama parasiz mutluluk hic olmuyor ne yazik ki. para kazanmak zorundayiz.

aylin urgal

serco
70’lerde turkce sozlu hafif bati muzigi yorumlayan muhtesem sesli ve olaganustu guzel bir kadindi. asil adi rezzan aylin soyurgal’di. ali kocatepe ona, izmir’de sarki soyledigi muzikhol’de rastladi ve bir numero plakcilik’a goturdu.

ne yazik ki bu kesif aylin’in sorunlu hayatinin baslangici oldu. istanbul macerasinda isler istedigi gibi gitmedi cogunluk, erovizyon sarki yarismasina katilmak uzereyken turkiye yarismadan cekildi, evliligi zaman zaman sallantiya girdi, neyse ki 1979’da dogan ikiz cocuklari bir sure kendisini iyi hissetmesini sagladi.

muzikte 80 sonrasi yasanan yozlasma ve simdi hos gulumsemelerle dinledigimiz, begendigimiz sarkilarini basarisizmis gibi algilamasi ve belki de bilemedigimiz baska nedenler yuzunden 81’de intihar girisiminde bulundu.

85’te ankara’da bir muzikholde is buldu, ama isler umdugu gibi yurumediginden uc ay sonra isi birakmak zorunda kaldi ve istanbul’a donerken bindigi otobus bolu’da ucuruma yuvarlandi.

türkiye tarihi

serco
1071 malazgirt zaferi ile ba$layan,

- birinci beylikler

- selcuklular

- ikinci beylikler

- osmanlilar

- cumhuriyet donemi ba$liklari altinda incelenen tarih.

bir de oncesi icin:

islam oncesi turk tarihi.

the kitten and falling leaves

serco
william wordsworth $iiri ;

that way look, my infant, lo!
what a pretty baby-show!
see the kitten on the wall,
sporting with the leaves that fall,
withered leaves---one---two---and three---
from the lofty elder-tree!
through the calm and frosty air
of this morning bright and fair,
eddying round and round they sink
softly, slowly: one might think,
from the motions that are made,
every little leaf conveyed
sylph or faery hither tending,---
to this lower world descending,
each invisible and mute,
in his wavering parachute.
---but the kitten, how she starts,
crouches, stretches, paws, and darts!
first at one, and then its fellow
just as light and just as yellow;
there are many now---now one---
now they stop and there are none
what intenseness of desire
in her upward eye of fire!
with a tiger-leap half way
now she meets the coming prey,
lets it go as fast, and then
has it in her power again:
now she works with three or four,
like an indian conjurer;
quick as he in feats of art,
far beyond in joy of heart.
were her antics played in the eye
of a thousand standers-by,
clapping hands with shout and stare,
what would little tabby care
for the plaudits of the crowd?
over happy to be proud,
over wealthy in the treasure
of her own exceeding pleasure!
’tis a pretty baby-treat;
nor, i deem, for me unmeet;
here, for neither babe nor me,
other play-mate can i see.
of the countless living things,
that with stir of feet and wings
(in the sun or under shade,
upon bough or grassy blade)
and with busy revellings,
chirp and song, and murmurings,
made this orchard’s narrow space,
and this vale so blithe a place;
multitudes are swept away
never more to breathe the day:
some are sleeping; some in bands
travelled into distant lands;
others slunk to moor and wood,
far from human neighborhood;
and, among the kinds that keep
with us closer fellowship,
with us openly abide,
all have laid their mirth aside.
where is he that giddy sprite,
blue-cap, with his colors bright,
who was blest as bird could be,
feeding in the apple-tree;
made such wanton spoil and rout,
turning blossoms inside out;
hung---head pointing towards the ground---
fluttered, perched, into a round
bound himself, and then unbound;
lithest, gaudiest harlequin!
prettiest tumbler ever seen!
light of heart and light of limb;
what is now become of him?
lambs, that through the mountains went
frisking, bleating merriment,
when the year was in its prime,
they are sobered by this time.
if you look to vale or hill,
if you listen, all is still,
save a little neighboring rill,
that from out the rocky ground
strikes a solitary sound.
vainly glitter hill and plain,
and the air is calm in vain;
vainly morning spreads the lure
of a sky serene and pure;
creature none can she decoy
into open sign of joy:
is it that they have a fear
of the dreary season near?
or that other pleasures be
sweeter even than gaiety ?
yet, whate’er enjoyments dwell
in the impenetrable cell
of the silent heart which nature
furnishes to every creature;
whatsoe’er we feel and know
too sedate for outward show,
such a light of gladness breaks,
pretty kitten! from thy freaks,---
spreads with such a living grace
o’er my little dora’s face;
yes, the sight so stirs and charms
thee, baby, laughing in my arms,
that almost i could repine
that your transports are not mine,
that i do not wholly fare
even as ye do, thoughtless pair!
and i will have my careless season
spite of melancholy reason,
will walk through life in such a way
that, when time brings on decay,
now and then i may possess
hours of perfect gladsomeness.
---pleased by any random toy;
by a kitten’s busy joy,
or an infant’s laughing eye
sharing in the ecstasy;
i would fare like that or this,
find my wisdom in my bliss;
keep the sprightly soul awake,
and have faculties to take,
even from things by sorrow wrought,
matter for a jocund thought,
spite of care, and spite of grief,
to gambol with life’s falling leaf.

the world is too much with us

serco
william wordsworth’un dogadan kopu$u ele$tiren $iiri ;

the world is too much with us; late and soon,
getting and spending, we lay waste our powers;
little we see in nature that is ours;
we have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
this sea that bares her bosom to the moon,
the winds that will be howling at all hours,
and are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers,
for this, for everything, we are out of tune;
it moves us not.--great god! i’d rather be
a pagan suckled in a creed outworn;
so might i, standing on this pleasant lea,
have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;
have sight of proteus rising from the sea;
or hear old triton blow his wreathed horn.
5 /

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