TURKISH DELIGHT AT SIXTY EGHT
Ebb and flow of life:
Running, rumbling, warm spring water, cascades
into bluish crater-like lakes within lakes, overflow,
creates terraces, snowy calcareous curtains,
hangs from mountain tops to verdant valleys,
blissful sound and sight, with beaming faces.
a Cotton Palace viewed by angels from heaven.
The sun sets in the horizon, changing landscapes,
shape and luminosities, but the star stays same.
After short and long twilight, another year has passed.
Darkness soon devours the ancient city of Hierapolis,
Once so mighty and majestic, now in ruin and rubble,
Evil Eyes fail to protect ancient Ottoman, Roman, and Turkish
Empires; same destiny suffer by the West, Middle East or East.
The grandeur and folly of the Great and Famous, phaliic pillars
cause repeated miseries and injustices to serfs and ordinary folks.
Yet in decay and death, histories and museums promote
their perennial praises; dominants always have final say.
The sun rises and celebrates sixty-eight in hot air balloon.
A bottle of champagne and pendant to mark the occasion:
sensuous Turkish belly dances, sweet delight, Raki and wine,
licking non-dripping ice cream, laced with poppy and honey.
Ascending and feeling high, fly with pigeons in the valleys,
or hide in Kaymakil underground city, waddle within tunnels
among brethren; pickpocket Spoonmaker’s Diamond with harem;
join the crowd in Grand Bazaar or spice market, with beggars
and street vendors; cultural tour, rich and heavy, better fun
with glass of Efes, lamb kebab ,reading in scenic Bosphorous cruise.