Poems of Mehmet Orhan (Turkiye)

THERE IS SOMETHING STRANGE
Mehmet Orhan

From creation to the elements,
From physical forms to minerals,
A precise calculation, a unique harmony,
And an unfailing order have been established.

Evolution silently continues on its path,
Birds converse with the sky.
Insects, flowers and trees
Protect one another’s rights.

The soil embraces the seed,
Water gives life and the sun makes it grow.
Even as the bee gathers nectar from the flower,
It leaves a drop of life for tomorrow.

But there is something strange:
The human being, endowed with reason and power,
Spills, scatters, strikes and destroys;
Hangs, cuts, steals and plunders.

Humanity tears open the breasts of mountains,
And pours poison into the veins of rivers.
It takes away the bird’s nest, the bee’s flower,
And the child’s future.

And then what happens?
All possessions and property are left behind.
The human being departs for a handful of dark soil,
There to decay.

As I watch all this,
I feel like both weeping and laughing.
Perhaps I have nothing to say to the ignorant;
But what can be said to those who claim to be wise?

With full stomachs and seeing eyes,
Ringing bells, playing pipes and beating tambourines,
What can be said, what can be done
About these two-legged bandits?

Come then, step forward and take a look;
I swear, I have grown weary of writing.
You have poisoned every morsel
You eat and drink with your own hands.

You have taken the bread
Of the poor and destitute from their tables.
You have turned upside down
The sacred order established by the Creator.

While destroying the world, humanity believes
It will remain standing tall.
Yet every drop it has poisoned
Will return and fill its own bowl.

Do not think this world is silent,
Do not think nature will never demand an account.
When the soil’s patience overflows,
No wall can stand in its way.

Take heed; you heard it from me:
The final whistle is about to sound.
Whether you see it or refuse to see it,
The reckoning is about to reach your door.

If this continues,
Neither good people
Nor bad people
Will ever see Heaven.




HUMANITY, AWAKEN THROUGH POETRY
Mehmet Orhan

Poetry is the voice growing in the heart of silence,
The light placed upon the brow of darkness.
O humanity, we poets are here,
We have come to awaken the earth with love.

Poetry is not merely words placed side by side,
It is one soul echoing within another.
It opens the dark door inside the human being
And brings the conscience together with its own light.

Art speaks the truth through the language of beauty,
It reveals pain to humanity without causing further hurt.
A single verse crosses every border,
Uniting two distant homelands within the same heart.

A poet is not merely someone who writes words,
But the witness of time and the conscience of society.
The one who speaks where humanity remains silent,
A lamp of the heart guiding the way through darkness.

If tears fall from a child’s eyes,
The poet’s sleep will not reach the morning.
If the fire has gone out in a mother’s hearth,
The poet’s pen will not rest until it finds the scent of bread.

Poetry is the home of forgotten stories,
The final refuge of lost tales.
The folk songs rising from the tongue and throat
Are the memories a nation leaves to time.

Poetry does not merely preserve the past,
It carries what has been forgotten into the heart of the future.
It calls an erased name once more,
And brings a lost voice back to life.

Poetry is not merely poetry,
It is defending the value of existence.
It is cherishing the Creator and all creation
With love and respect.

It preserves the memory of water, the fertility of the soil,
The patience of mountains, the breath of forests.
It gives voice to the silent rights of flowers, bees, birds,
And all living beings, so humanity may hear.

The poet opens their heart to friends and offers roses,
And calls out “Stop!” to those who sow hostility.
Crying, “Enough! Let no human take another’s life!”
The poet keeps a lifelong vigil at the gate of peace.

The poet’s duty is not to pass judgment,
But to bring people face to face with their own conscience.
By calling wrong wrong and right right,
The poet adds a drop of light to the darkness.

The cloak we wear is conscience,
Our pen is a promise made to humanity.
The price we have paid lies hidden in our verses,
Every poem holds a measure of tears, labor, and life.

We do not remain silent in the face of evil,
We do not grow accustomed to hunger, war, or oppression.
If even one human heart is bleeding,
We cannot consider any joy in the world complete.

Somehow, you still have not recognized us,
Open your ears that have grown deaf.
Look at us, look at us, O humanity,
We are your conscience that will not fall silent.

O humanity, awaken through poetry at last!
We are here, keeping vigil for peace.
We are the undying voice of love, nature,
And all creation. Where are you?





WHEN DOES THE SUN WEEP?
Mehmet Orhan

The sun,
offered to humanity as light
by the Supreme Creator,
weeps whenever it sees
children kept awake by hunger.

Whenever it sees
those whose lips are cracked from thirst,
those torn from their homelands by war,
and mothers lamenting after their children,
the sun
burns both you and me.

While the sun is weeping,
does the moon not grieve?
As the stars watch
humanity become corrupted,
they begin to darken,
withdraw into themselves,
and eventually they too mourn.

When one human being oppresses another,
the order within cells is disrupted,
and even the atoms become confused.
Objects fall silent,
physical forms grow alien to one another,
and the balance of the universe is disturbed.

O human,
it is not the clouds
that make the sun weep.
What makes it weep
is the cruelty you inflict upon humanity,
the wounds you open in nature,
and your heart closed to compassion.

Every morning, the sun rises again,
sends forth its light,
and invites you to its table.
Perhaps humanity will come to its senses,
perhaps it will feel ashamed of its darkness,
perhaps one day
it will remember how to be human.

To live through sunlit days,
we must first learn to be human.

When does the sun weep?

When humanity forgets its humanity.




I LOVE WINTER
Mehmet Orhan

I love winter.
Because winter
catches people exposed.
No rank can conceal disgrace,
and no fortune can silence the truth.

I love winter,
so that I may have a word
for deaf ears,
for those whose tongues drip bitter poison,
and for eyes that refuse to see.

I thought I would have my say.
Let me cast this stone too.

Look at the torn socks.
Look at the wounded feet...
The feet that walk
not upon stones,
but upon pain.

Look at the hearths that give no smoke.
See the fire
a mother keeps alive with her breath,
and the breath
a child mistakes for smoke
and greets with hope.

Half hungry,
half ill,
utterly helpless,
look upon the bodies
of the poor, the destitute, and the abandoned.

Come,
and see them for yourselves.

In the snow and bitter winter,
look at the half-collapsed,
ruined stone walls
that give no smoke.

Call out
to the crumbling ancestral hearths
built of mud brick.
Give them a voice...
A voice!

Have you not had enough to eat?
Your eyes, your minds...
Put an end to your greed
and your endlessly wagging tongues.

Step out
of your villas of gold and diamonds,
and step into the sunlight...
Into the sunlight!

See us too.
Listen to us.
Listen,
and at last see
the pain, the laments,
and the helpless.

From the riches
that have intoxicated you
amid all that splendour,
I ask for neither a chestful
nor a sackful...

Just give a handful,
with a smile,
to the oppressed, the exhausted,
the hungry, the thirsty,
the lonely, and the orphans.

Bring into the sunlight
the possessions
you believe will never run out.

For the sake of the milk
we drank from the same mother
and the same breast,
come out...
Come outside.

Make the parched,
waterless, desert-like soil
green again.

Sow with us
the seeds of conscience
stored in your granaries.

Come, let us reap together.
Let us all laugh together.

Let no one weep.
Let no hunger remain.
Let there be no quarrels,
no troubles,
and no sorrow.

Well, that is how it is...
I am uneducated.
I am a lonely living soul,
far from everyone’s sight.
As though I scarcely exist,
I am a guest in this world.

I am one of those
who wink at brotherhood.

Nâzım, you have not heard me.
Now hear me
and read me.



TO NÂZIM HİKMET RAN
Mehmet Orhan

Master,
you did not love winter,
and we are still cold.

Even in prison,
you shared your bread,
while in the public squares,
we are searching for conscience.

You made iron speak,
and the walls were ashamed.

We keep speaking,
but the walls keep growing.

You brought the tear,
the hole in a child’s shoe
into poetry,
and made the world hear
a mother’s silence.

We still see
the same child in the street,
and the hearth of the same mother
is still unlit, Master.

So it means
the poem is not finished,
it means
you have not died.

Wherever
someone still says
“human,”
you are alive, Ran,
you are walking
with us.




SILKEN WHITE DOVES
Mehmet Orhan

Ahamed Ejaj’s white doves,
Their faces radiant with light,
Flower-like and rose-scented,
His precious children, sweet as honey.

Their hearts carry the scent of roses,
Their eyes sparkle brightly,
They are as innocent as doves,
My dear ones, delicate as silk.

One is a tender flower in bloom,
The other is honey from the comb.
Their innocent little smiles
Are an entire world to a father.

Tiny hands embrace his neck,
Love fills every corner of their home.
A father’s heart becomes their wings,
Protecting their paths from every shadow.

Their table is brightened by smiles,
Their hearth is warmed by honest labor,
Their hearts reach out to brotherhood,
My lively and sweet little ones.

You bring distant hearts closer,
You bring serenity to friendship,
You fill our hearts with peace,
You embrace everyone and remain far from evil.

You sow peace, love and compassion
Across every corner of the world.
You are the prince and princess of kindness,
The precious little ambassadors of peace.

Like pearls, you dwell within our hearts,
Delicate as silk, innocent and pure,
As wholesome as honey in the comb,
A beautiful family, a balm to humanity.

That lovely room filled with books
Is a home of knowledge and hope.
The light born from their father’s pen
Is his children’s prayer for tomorrow.

Endless thanks to the Almighty Creator,
Who brought this precious family into our lives.
We have come to love all of you
Sincerely and with all our hearts.

May your gardens of roses never fade.
May Allah protect these sweet children.
May He preserve them for you and you for them,
In health, happiness and love.

May your path always remain open.
May your table overflow with blessings.
From our family to yours,
We send endless prayers and gratitude.

May you always remain together.
May your peace never diminish.
May happiness fill your home.
With everlasting love, farewell. ❤️

I dedicate this poem, with love,
Respect and heartfelt prayers,
To my dear brother and editor, Md Ejaj Ahamed,
And to his precious children.



THE GOOD
Mehmet Orhan

Good people who believe in goodness
Value labor and the sweat of one's brow.
They do not take what rightfully belongs to others,
They stand against injustice.
They do not reach for anyone's possessions,
Property, or honor,
Nor do they hurt anyone with their words.


They do not love conflict,
They make living in peace their guiding principle.
They consider sharing and helping one another their duty.
They think of the hungry,
Lift up those who have fallen,
And extend a helping hand to the poor and needy.


The good love the earth as they love their mother,
They regard water as life and bread as a blessing.
They cannot bear to harm a bird's wing
Or the labor of a bee upon a flower.
They wholeheartedly protect and appreciate
The mercy of nature and the blessings it offers.
They regard the shade of a tree and the sound of a spring
As part of the world entrusted to our care.


They protect nature and the forests.
They warn those who do wrong.
They place justice, peace, and freedom above all else.
Including respect and love,
All these are like unwritten laws to them.


The good never extinguish the light of reason,
They do not hide knowledge; they share it.
They regard a child's tomorrow as their own,
And confront ignorance through education.
While living today, they also think of tomorrow,
Leaving behind a world worth living in
For those who come after them.


What a beautiful disposition,
What beautiful thoughts,
What a beautiful character.
What beautiful peace, health, and joy.
This is the identity, the name, the quality,
The word and the melody
Of living with honor and dignity.


Here is emotion.
Here is a folk song.
All of them are like an embrace,
A thousand bouquets of light held against the darkness.
So, what have I said?
What more can I say?


You, too, become one of them.
You, too, think.
Do not be afraid.
Come and stand together with us in unity.
Hand in hand,
Eye to eye,
Let us walk together.


Let us walk all the way to the sun,
Let us drink in the sun.
Let us embrace the moon
And stop there for a coffee break.
With songs,
With folk melodies,
Let us visit the stars one by one,
And see them all.


Let us gather the good
And reach the Creator of the Universe.
Let us say, "We have arrived!"
Let us put a stop to evil,
And say that we, too, have a rightful place
At the table of goodness.
Let us say,
"We have come to taste the fruits of Paradise."


I swear, joking aside,
I have become a little excited myself.
After so much optimism,
How could I not be, my dear friends?
Can those who are good,
Those who do good deeds,
Not enter Paradise?
I mean, is there no one who hears us?



Let both the good
And the wicked remember this:
The Creator has seen and heard
Both you and me.
According to our deeds,
He has already recorded everything
In the Divine Record, with the Pen of Destiny.


Do not even think of evil,
And never abandon goodness.



Come forward, O humanity!
This is a world where good and evil part ways.
The world has grown weary of evil.
But why have you not grown weary?
Why?



✍︎ Yol Eri
Poet-Writer-Beekeeper from Arguvan
Mehmet Orhan

© Mehmet Orhan. All rights reserved.