Chess Paragraph, dedicated to Poetiwife

Composed by AI SUNO

Merely intent on one miraculous word has become a lone paragraph,
There is an individual yelling the meaning of tomorrows in a miserable photograph,
A self-recognition in the stardom has fallen into a serfdom of pain-graph,
I am reading the lines of an etymologist’s biography under a subtle autograph,
Though profoundly wounded, the heart goes on breathing a beautified graph,
Totally aware of what’s going around, the poor man faces the attempt to laugh

Life is the game of a chess
Although people avoid the temptation to confess
“I love you” seems a casual sentence people don’t express
With pawns that look inefficient at the very beginning of press
The oncoming moments will certainly utter the aching stress
What you haven’t told today won’t find any address

‘cause tomorrow queens are bound to steal your belongings
The queens on the chess set will merely stet
The truth will charge you with deep heartaches...

The appearance of stars gets beautified with your presence
The darkness of the night becomes ugly with your absence

The mind and soul of the etymologist dance with the above-stated phrases
There have rested no poetry lines that characterize the shadow’s faces
I cannot find any stigma to put the rooks knights and king on chess places
The bishops incessantly fight within my all
Nevertheless, my ears are still after your once-call
Help me, poetiwife, help me get out of that chess-fall...

Written by
the master of loneliness
Okan Emanet

Identify Facts = IF, dedicated to POETIWIFE

Everybody needs a story in which realities dance into facts
They therefore struggle a brand-new stage on which love acts
Something from the past always drowns the words on their throats
Dreams are incredible vessels that cannot play the song of floats
As for me, I am but a metaphysical poet
That has only been bestowed to eternally regret
That has merely been dressed to achingly forget
What really matters in our world is to identify our facts
Tell me a story, my destiny, write up a new fate
Let it spark off with countless poor ifs...

The lines of any poem resemble your eyes,
The shining stars worship upon your paradise,
The meaning of life dances with your once glance,
Let this body and soul die for your stance...

If there weren't a volcano erupting on and on in my left part,
that soul in the river of hell wouldn't be leading a life by art...

If she hadn't risen into my world,
another fact could have smiled by Lord...

Written by Okan Emanet
the art of loneliness...

The Brutal Time, dedicated to POETIWIFE

Composed by AI SUNO


For anyone to challenge love, it is necessary to be sad
You carry the ashes along your heart you have to add
Time becomes a callous instructor, leading to go mad
Who has come before will go by who is passing by their hat
Among the traces I have collected throughout the years
This poor being has harboured at yousport with the tears
While cleansing what has bled my soul, I hold the fears
Into the reflection on my heart, there is a melody
Opening any surrounding with the same key and beauty
The lack of your face here and there places the fury
A term rises in my spirit; namely, the "abetsence"
The chaos left behind can be illuminated with chance
That the game of destiny displays your brilliant glance
Thoughts are the meal I once ate on your eyes,
Which turns out to be the way I become consider-ate
Politeness is the natural effect of my love-paradise
Memorizing every phrase is the master of my mere fate
The boisterous rivers are full of your smiling way
I am in the world in which not to stay
Find my road that runs towards your kingdom
Your absence will only make me live in serfdom

Written by the master of loneliness,

Okan EMANET

Kneeling for your ways, dedicated to POETIWIFE

Composed by AI SUNO


When told to hold a pen in order to write a poem,
The sacred feeling over the mountains asks who I am
In response, that being is water flowing with soul,
Carrying the pieces of rocks that will never stay cool

Initiate me with glance,
Fabricate me with one stance,
Litigate me to the divinity-sense,
Subjugate me head over heels

Whether a mountain or a bay in the horizon,
Love is a sword enabling one to have fights
No matter which day brings another season,
The world has already swum with your lights

Hold a pen, My Poetiwife
Have a seat by my life
Stick the bleeder-knife
The heart will only spell
And therefore will tell
"Life without you is uniquely hell"


Written by the master of loneliness,
Okan EMANET

My Chimera, dedicated to POETIWIFE

Composed by AI SUNO


Sitting at the doorstep of the destiny,
The rhyming soul sheds the tears of blood
There is no sound coming from the tune of humanity
And shine the very existence of a lady on my plot
The hands, faces and feet are washed away with a language
The lines throughout my being are only home to an adage
"Create a fate including the nature of my POETIWIFE"
The inks of my pen are going to and fro in my life
Your one statement whispers the entrance to paradise
As I am littering the ashes of cigarette packed with eyes,
Among them sun-rise the layers of my dream-like star
Alongside the kerbs of my heart walks merely splendid scar,
Which doesn't give any pain but reveals how we are
Let all the drops of rain fall on my head,
I am in pursuit of you whether alive or dead
If there is a day under the name of tomorrow,
Let it smell of your breath on the very morrow;
Otherwise, I will get submersed in the pool of sorrow
I have a palace in my heart
The resident of which is my Chimera-lady
The walls of which are heaven-tint
You are my sole seven-heaven
I feed on so-all-ul
I Bet you will be Ok with my Pen forever!

Written by the master of loneliness,
Okan EMANET

Person's Effect: My Perfect, dedicated to POETIWIFE

Just as God controls all His sons in the rhyme of universe,
We are called "Per-son" in the realm of any verse
And the resulting effect is the divine mood and ease
The individuals get a sacred shelter in case of tease
The combination of person with the effect is our being perfect,
Which altogether explains why my soul feeds on your fact
If required to reach a healthy characterization on your eyes,
That spirit is obliged to be embodied into Shakespearean size;
Besides, that existence is bound to play the role of Poe's cries
Nothing can compare with the way you smile,
Nor is there any sonnet equipped with intonation-mile
In between the lines of all the stanzas emerges your stance,
Forcing that pen to note down the manner your perform a glance
Per-heart cannot stay apart 'cause your breath is my part
Not a morning can wear daylight unless a sentence smells your start
My mere magic in that world;
Soulize me, realize me, recognize me, have a paradise in me, Betulize me, re-size me, thouprize me as a whole
Let that heart be perfect in your very being...

Betulip, dedicated to POETIWIFE

Over the valleys of my heart extends a new flower,
Throughout the empire of lonesome plants grows an unusual clover
The prophecy to be uttered is a sure star for any evil eye,
Whereby an excellent waterfall arouses a lie and tie
You are my beauty, the name of whom is Betulip
Let me sigh over, shining every morning so as to have a love-clip
Let me water my leaves that are about to wither and slip
Intensify the inner and outer part of the world, let it be tulip
There is a world lying here; let it die out through your lip

You've glanced at me before,
But I certainly need much more;
Otherwise, I am standing at your door

Written by the master of loneliness,
Okan EMANET

The Failure of etymology, dedicated to POETIWIFE

There is no talented characterization for the grace on your eyes,
Nor is there equivalence in the kingdom of miraculous paradise
Every field of etymology becomes disabled in front of your glance;
What you have left as a trace over me is written in my own sense
The wind over my head is performing a hilarious and blissful dance
Nights are in pursuit of your shining star,
Whereas your absence is growing as a big scar
Heal my soul with your ever-sparkling presence;
Otherwise, my veins are drowned into the sea-lance
Even though the bard of all the poets struggle to create a phrase,
There only arise several anonymities and the thunderous maze
The origin of every word carries something from your very existence;
Besides, the lurking bodies' movement speaks of your nameless stance
Lo! The founder of the universe
Draw me a picture smelling of a wonderful verse
Your scent has turned into a palace of heaven screaming of hers


Written by the master of loneliness,
Okan EMANET

Beyond the clouds, dedicated to POETIWIFE

I am a man with countless wounds in the heartache kingdom
As a crying baby suffers from tortures in the camp of serfdom
All around by bleed and feed soul exists only one word "boredom"
Among the cold bushes of the crowds, I demand to be your freedom

Having released what is kept as a secret to your heart,
That man is huddling round the fire, yelling to be your other part
Uniting all the dispersed traces of love will be my main art,
Whereas the trains of my soul are equipped but told apart

Such an excellence has God drawn upon your face,
Behind the curtains of mystery and beyond the love-maze
Waiting for your presence with sheer patience and to surface
Ready to annihilate the borders circling around the bliss-lace

Before too late,
Let us go for this fate,
Against every rate,
Come under the tent of state,
Save me up to your smile and laughter
'cause I feel so cold and slender
'cause I am about to surrender

Written by the master of loneliness
Okan EMANET

Head Over Heels, dedicated to my POETIWIFE

While flowing down with the mysterious essence,
The rivers and streams release what can be called your sense
All around the steps of the valleys shines the sun of your beauty,
Pointing the inner and outer parts of what is missing in me
Here and there, there is only one word rising; my Poetiwife
I've added myself sufficiently with the real meaning of life

Your eyes are the palace of freedom in my soul,
Your face is the expression of future in my heart,
Your voice is the sense of bliss for my all
As you see, my rhymerstar
I am head over heels in love with you...

Even though one day my body will leave that earth,
The rocks and mountains will go on screaming my eternal oath
The drops splashing the seaside will start to weep on your ways
From time to time, in between the kerbs of your walking and also for days
You will realize that the rate of my love will bleed in every aspect
The heaven or hell is going to salute my comings with their respect

Your manner is the way I behave,
Your style is what I've got to crave,
Your view is my magic
As you see,
I'm head over heels in love with you...

Written by the master of loneliness
Okan EMANET

Calendar, dedicated to my POETIWIFE

Just like the location of the moon in the sky,
The papers of the calendar in my life get to fly
When the word “moon” loses its first two syllables,
“on” becomes into a body, coming before all day-babbles
As all the beings cling to each day, my life sticks to you
On Monday, On Yousday, On our Wednesday, or On Thursday
I am drawing a shadow beside mine, which has turned into clay
On the wall of tomorrow stands the picture of your pretty eyes
Such a glance have you left over my soul, a great gate to paradise

“Sleep” is now a kind of dance I’ve already forgotten
Something as ocean-blue as your very being has deleted the breath
The womanity in my calendar has gained the real meaning in fact
The humanity in my heart is rising and sunny days are falling to death
The love in my all has become a literature only to feature your act
I’ve created a heart so fragile and depleted all the motten

Now, put a new trace on the dates of the calendar
And utter something spelling you and me;
Otherwise, I will lose everything and surrender
Let the calendar be on our side
Come onto my ways and be my bride
With the brilliant dress, into my own sight
Just as your name refers to being all alone
Let this soul be lonely, solely with your lovely-tone

Written by the master of loneliness,
Okan EMANET

GIVE ME YOUR HAND, MY LADY, dedicated to my secret love

I have forgotten the meaning under any sense that was once rhythmic
Nothing touches my soul in the vein of life and nothing is any longer hectic
Over a thin line of survival lies no gain,
Which brings neither breath nor pain
I have really lost the memory of a man living in humanity so soul-metric
There is a melody keeping its place in between my lips
Just on the way to express your name, everything slips
I am sometimes asked of my writings in the book of my life
Where the sentences, the words and the lines smell of my wife
Tomorrow is nothing but a dream to come together under a star
Which will teach how to endure the brutal distances being so far
Turning to the beginning of a story including who and how we are
The winds of love, the breeze of heart-shake, the scent of moon
Something gets stuck in my throat in your absence, praying every noon
The growth of tension, the vibration of aches will appear that soon
From now on will be written such a lonesome story
Find me among the bushes of deserted bird corpses
Try and figure out a leaf kept away from even a drop of water
Make an attempt to reveal a handkerchief crying endlessly
Search for the ash of a paper screaming your name
Comparisons and contrasts cannot fulfil a wedding together
My arms, my hands, my soul and heart have come to surrender

Written by the master of loneliness,

Okan EMANET

The flash of remedy, dedicated to my secret love

Among the aches
Upon what makes
My heart grow so tender,
All such rain drops surrender, when there rise your eyes-flash
In between what is raining heavily, my mind is getting a squash
I attempt to touch the picture arising out of the heavy fog
Suddenly, the unpalatable truth throws its pain-giving blog
Your absence stinks into my soul once the rain gets a stop
So calling for help from above, all the feelings just fly atop
The flag is swinging here and there, with the slight appearance of my lady
The rainbow is painted within your brilliant eyes, resembling the paradise
Your eyes, in face of my helpless being, turn into a flash of remedy
Counting the clicking hours, this weeping wreckage longs for making a size
So start to sing the wonderful song of the rain again through those lips
Witness how all these years have passed, how achingly love slips
Radiate the flash of remedy overall my breath
Call for that lamenting man only just before his death

Written by
the master of loneliness,
loneliterature
Okan EMANET

At noon, dedicated to my love-serve lady

At Noon
The selves living in the palaces witness a truth
Life, as it is called, is a drama including every oath
Starting from youngster to adulthood, eating your youth
The tolls get to ring, bringing forward all the words to mouth
Please, God Let the clicking time come to end
May God block the universal rhyme
Nine, ten and eleven are coming out at noon
Having seated to the chair of loneliness, a man comes to think
“All the world’s living bodies are trying to stick into my heart,
Many drops of tears have dropped over since getting apart
There have been loads of scars in my soul,
This breath of my own cannot stand as a whole”

At noon, trivial is the rank of being king,
At noon, nobody can smile and sing,
At noon, eyes can only see the slope to cling,
At noon, try as much as you can, but you can’t fling,
At noon, the veins throughout my body long for you,
At noon, with the absence of your eyes finishes the hue
At noon, the expression of death is my own name...

written by okan emanet
literature of loneliness