Wednesday, December 5, 2012

The Point

this the  .  of our whole lives--

shaped by our substance

as much as the surrounding


                            white

foritisinourlimits

that we define our s i g h t

and thus does weakness
                                    become a might

Tuesday, October 23, 2012

the weight of self

i fear i'm stuck      
                 within the weight of myself

for envy has a hungry mouth

        whichburrowsdeepintoaheart

and devours there                    
                                the veins of wealth

and the           s  p  a  c  e  s              inbetween

become      heavy and sick
with                allits filth

leaving all these            


                            holes


where there once was health

                        a blackness
                which begins to suck
                atthelightoftheworld    
                                        
forgetting    
 
           joy will come
                             
                 to all

                          as well as to myself.

Tuesday, September 25, 2012

Wednesday, August 22, 2012

Life Words

what Words can well describe what any human has done?
for when life's indescribable, Words equal to, there are none;
but even so must we try, as humans do, to give voice to our own,
to make our mark on this tomb, before our tomb we call home.

and so must I speak, of my life, how well lived; when
I was created by a Word, and through a Word did breathe in
my first taste of this earth, the desert air, in summer dawn,
and nestled in mother's tongue, was counseled in mores wrong.

and thus I must speak of those Words that stole time,
of those that clouded my pure heart, and darkened my red eyes,
and of the Words that I wore, with a shame and a worry,
defining myself, with the Words they bore through me.
 
and so, too, must I speak, of the Words that did rise,
that illumined my spirit, and made my ears wise,
how they guided me from the tyranny of my own mind,
and how those wise Words did save this poor life.

and thus through these Words, have I conveyed to you,
though necessarily failing so, these Words ever tried for truth:
life is more than Words, but more than Words, life cannot be,
for Words give life to life, as life brings Words to be.

Friday, July 27, 2012

Life Beget

What more from does Life beget, than Life's preserving breath?

As whether by decay or fresh grow, 'tis change that Life does know, 
and with such change in stride, from the future cannot Life hide,
but must cope with blessings and blows. And thus I posit so:

that 'tis hope and dreams upon, which Life is withal drawn,
the promise of the new; as without, naught has Life to do,
and so how is Life to be, when Life does not believe?

When imagination is foul stolen, wishes withered, fancy broken,
suffocation only is Life left; as is, when forbidden breath.

Likewise to supress dreams, is to Life oppressive, tyranny--
whether from without or within--hope, must needs for Life to begin,
and so, too, does hope Life beget; as it is in our dreams, Life is set.


Saturday, July 7, 2012

New e-book, "By Death's Feather"

Available now for free download on smashwords.com, is my new ebook, By Death's Feather (or, the fantastical journey of the late Ms. Alicia K. Pembleton: A philosophical and entirely fictional tale of the recently dead).

By Death's Feather
Ms. Alicia K. Pembleton, a 29-year-old social worker, who, after being crushed by the wheels of a large black truck, finds herself dead and wandering through the afterlife.

There is one slight twist in this soul's tragic turn of fate, however--Ms. Pembleton is (or more accurately, was) an atheist. She would thus prefer to deny the fact of her death and the truth of her situation. Alas, her unbelief is challenged by a perhaps unwelcome companion, Geo, a psychopomp who appears to Ms. Pembleton in the form of a fuzzy and frayed childhood lion toy.

Ms. Pembleton must now reluctantly unravel the mysteries and miseries of her past physical and current spiritual existence, while also dealing with her surviving family's future, in a quest to reunite with her sister, Sarah.

By Death's Feather deals with such weighty themes as life and death, family, hope, faith, honesty, persistence, joy, pain and suffering, and above all, forgiveness, in an almost shockingly light-hearted manner.

An enjoyable exploration of the faith and hope that lies within all of us, irrespective of doctrinal belief, it should appeal to readers of a variety of ages and backgrounds.

Like all of the poetry on this blog, By Death's Feather has been independently produced and written by me, and is currently available for download. AND IT'S CURRENTLY FREE!!! That's right - I said FREE!!! So, even if you only enjoyed one word on this blog, please check it out!  And if you do enjoy it, or even if you hate it, please leave your honest rating or review.  I spent the past 2 1/2 years working on this novel, and would really appreciate your feedback!

The book is available on Smashwords.com, an electronic publishing house for independent authors.  Smashwords will publish an electronic version of your book for free on their site, and will distribute copies to major online retailers such as Barnes & Noble, etc.  As someone who supports independent art, I hope that you will check out other Smashwords authors, even if you do not download my book. 

And, just in case you missed that link, the book is available for DOWNLOAD here. 

Thanks so much for your support!

- Soha

Tuesday, July 3, 2012

Fly Fishing

The lake is empty, the fish have flown
for it's the weekend, and their time to roam
they'll visit the desert, bathe in the sun
lounge with the lizards, and when they're done
they'll slink home to the water, the fun is through--
it's back to catching flies, in Abiquiu



This short poem was written in response to a request, with the specified topics being "fly fishing, New Mexico, and weekend."

Wednesday, June 27, 2012

eternal melody

so what is it to be? to quiet, or speak?
yet still in the silence, a lonely heart beats
underneath the calm, we continue to seethe
then how are we to cease, as long as we breathe?

and even thereafter, at the end of our times
as we are eternal, 'haps a celestial chime
will still then resound, from our etheral lips,
so how can one quiet, in light of all this?

the choice is clearly neither 'either', nor 'or'
but one of gradation, of less and of more
for though our words may momentarily falter
in truth, we're an eternal melody, which can only be altered.


Sunday, April 22, 2012

a rabbit world

we've carved a strange hole
in this world we call home

we've cut and contorted
our selves to belong

our bodies are all twisted
constrained in this pit

should we swap burrows
or try to still fit?

Thursday, April 12, 2012

when we had none

what sweetness is this, offered to parched lips,
honey of the freshest flowers from home
yet its nectar is nothing, when heart is still wanting,
the taste of those dreamlands, far gone

for how sweet seem those days, when lost our own way,
but knew that the route was wrong
wandering in this haze, bleeding love upon our page,
surrounded, and yet still so alone

for nightmare it seemed, yet more was it dream,
more precious when long done
for sacrifice soon guided, to the path that was righted,
and prize is greatest, if hard won

and now sit we at our hearth, covered by comfort,
remembering those days before dawn--
whatever wealth brings we, will only seem poorly,
compared to when we had none

Thursday, April 5, 2012

on my mother's birthday

a mother has made every part of me
spun with threads from her all
not only her belly, but her being, fully,
embuing her spirit, withall,

first with her limbs, that guided truly
her legs carried me to life
and then in her arms, a cradled baby,
shielded from darkness of night

her milk filled my hungry tummy
tongue nurtured a thirsty mind
nose sniffed out all that was smelly,
I learned moderation from her eyes

and so it is that my mother made me
indeed, I owe her most everything
and so it is that I shall serve her, purely,
even as I shall so serve the Supreme.

Friday, March 30, 2012

the sycamore tree

I descended, a tiny seed
into the dusty cradle of this blackened earth
and thence sprouted, swiftly unfurling
and broke through the greenish turf

in the sunlight and the rain
in the clouds, and in the dirt
I opened, permeated
my home a kingly court

I grew and I gloried
and cast a shadow underworld
in the cool winds I shifted softly
spreading seeds like feathered pearls

and so I lived for centuries
content within this wonder world
certain of a wisdom in small worries
attaining much for which I yearned

until the fates there did find me
and cast a spell upon lifeblood's spurt
and soon I rotted, sickly
my limbs falling upon the dirt

for all that live must die
within this mortal turn
and so too, did I
of death most ably learn

and yet within my decayed branches
reposed a treasure-house of wealth
for my past existence, so full and sweet
now enriched the soil with health

and though in life much was taken
to help my spirit grow
how soon in death, all was given
as others flourish as one goes

and this is how it shall ever be
as a forest springs slow forth
for out of dust and ashes
new life is given birth

Thursday, March 22, 2012

idle heart

this idle heart
has nearly stopped beating
blood's but a trickle
when there's no work to be done
for it takes exertion
to start our life flowing
there's no power in lethargy
no virtue in sloth

so do not think
destiny is just waiting
soon to be presented
to a king on a couch
no, it is the peasant
that spends his life toiling
who will true greatness
have finally won

Friday, March 16, 2012

heart of stone

 
a heart is made of precious stone,
flesh of rubies and sapphires
sinew of platinum and gold--

but few do her value true know,
refusing the heat of heart's fire
even when their skin is cold--

and poor heart just accepts as so,
to know her love is priceless
she cheapens, to ensure she's sold--

but still inside her gems do glow,
waiting for her to recognize this
she should be cherished, even though.

Friday, March 9, 2012

empty drum

Now that I am empty
my heart beat resonates
within me
pulsing--
like a hollow lambskin drum

my rhythm
and my melody
reverbrating
against this watery earth
against this darkened sun

and now that I quiver
with the intonation of its love
do you see how the whole world
shivers--
ba dum, ba dum, ba dum

Wednesday, March 7, 2012

decision

to the indecisiveness of acceptance,
to the bliss of which,
to the whether yes--
we must, in all humbleness,
our reverence lend,
for it is upon these selfsame moments
of decision,
that our destiny
 depends.

Saturday, March 3, 2012

in store

why should we fear tomorrow?
not that each day will be unlike the past
no, we should tremble that tomorrow
the troubles of today may still hold fast

do not desire to live never-changing
never growing to love life the more
for it is in self-sameness that we falter
afraid there's not much more in store

Thursday, March 1, 2012

porcelain

all children are made of porcelain
like vases--
handpainted with golden flowers--
perched delicately on a pedestal
and placed in a stately hall.

But so soon do we 
dash them carelessly against the wall.

And they
exploding into many pieces
are now like pointed puzzles
which take far too many years to solve.

And when they're glued together
into a shape
only vaguely reminiscent of that vase--

we call them grown-ups
and give them offices
and settle them into jobs.

And we make them stay there
until they do what they are told.

mostly glue,
not porcelain
adults--
now they fit into our mold.

Sunday, February 26, 2012

a nothing

I live between the notes of that band
the spaces 
where the silence creeps in.

And just there--
where you catch your breath,
waiting for time to begin again.

And it is I, this mere shell of skin and
sinew, 
who does hold the stars within.

For it is in great black nothingness
that the beauty of the universe
expands.

Saturday, February 25, 2012

BANDAGE$

these dollar bills 
make poor bandages
how poorly they assuage
life's wounds
and when scars of regret 
are torn open
how meagerly they blot out
the bitterness
from filling up our tombs

Wednesday, February 22, 2012

stairway

you can't go around
dividing 
people into sinners and angels
thinking they are saved
merely by belief
God gave us
heads, hearts and hands
for thinking, feeling, and doing
and if you're going to be saved
you've got to give Him
all Three

life is an eternal journey
a stairway not an elevator
and we constantly move
based on what we do
sometimes ascending
sometimes descending--
the choice
(and the progress)
is mercifully up to
you.

Monday, February 20, 2012

Saved

Never thought love would save me
But love saved me all along

For it found its way deep inside me
And then opened me to God

Saturday, February 18, 2012

crow

Once I was beset
 by a crow
his murder plagued me
cawing, clawing 
everywhere I did try to go
but one day I was lucky
I took my chance
and shed him like lethargy
at a ballroom dance
I was dressed so prettily
he could not see
for all the other gentlemen
were entranced by me
but as soon as I got comfortable
settled into free life
that black bird did find me
he renewed this strife--
and now he's come to settle
once again at my little window
if you think of a way to elude him
will you please do let me know?

Friday, February 17, 2012

afternoon sunrise

eleven thousand days
in the haze of night
darkness
as the sun withheld 
glorious insight
searching every horizon
for its shine
desiring in every atom
to see the flame alive
and oh, how each grain of sand
was loved as the last
hoping to find the wakeful crystal
in this sedimentary land

but the world was cold
frozen
utterly deprived of warmth
and tired eyes languished
longing for its hearth
but how soon those empty days
forgotten
when an afternoon sunrise
lit up the lonely sky
and how souls rejoiced in
the blaze of beauteous height

and in the end
it did not matter
just when light finally flickered to life
for it is always dawn
when the sun finally shares
its light 

Thursday, February 16, 2012

my little rainbow

you brighten my skies
when dark winds blow
a myriad colours rise
with my little rainbow

Wednesday, February 15, 2012

crease

do not get lost upon
the crooked lines within your hand
for the palm is not a path
you are only fated to tread
but a crease or an axis,
in which to pivot or bend
for it is our fingers
that will have fixed the life we led
and not some predetermined wrinkle
in a life that's merely read

Tuesday, February 14, 2012

gravity

the world was nothing
without you --
mere atoms
incoherently organized

but
like gravity
your heart 
brought order to my
disheveled life

out of chaos
through attraction--
it was your love
that set my universe
aright

Monday, February 13, 2012

valentine's day poems



 will you be my valentine
all I got is this clementine
'tho it tastes a bit like lime
still its sour will still be fine
if you'll say you'll be mine

*



twenty toes
and four feet
we chose twos
in a heart beat

*
 
never had a sweetheart
never sniffed a rose
today I got my new start
with your sweet propose

*


 you are my rock
you are my mountain
if I build my heart here
joy will be found then

*


your happy face
makes my heart gleam
like a lightbulb
you are my soul's sheen

*


 
like a watermelon
without seeds
you fulfill my
every need

*




you red delicious
apple
you made my heart
rattle



 a valentine's day card project  
illustrations by Roshani Ludher
poetry by Soha Turfler
 

Sunday, February 12, 2012

berenj

You pierced my heart
and set it on fire
Skewered--
I am now Soha-kebab
tender,
juicy,
well-seasoned,
and a little over done.
And now that I am cooked,
I wonder--
will You steam the rice
with such love?

Monday, February 6, 2012

200

at the center 
of this watery world 
I swam
wailing as the waves
the ways
thundered
against every thought 
against every spot
of my own spherical
plan

but then
two hundred
pearls of the water lily
were delicately placed 
within my hand

a gift 
iridescent
with power that
flowed through 
my pale petals
exposing my heart
like a clam

and so 
soon I traveled
in this land
unencumbered
searching 
for a heart
in which these lily seeds
 to plant

and oft
I wondered
whether these precious gems
would be wasted 
would they be condemned--
were we all like barren plots
  folded within
our own inward 
spans?

but those 
two hundred
pearls
still did glisten
they still did 
enchant

and so I thought
it didn't matter
whether they were accepted
by man

for their beauty came
precisely because 
they were 
given

and so
this poor lily sought
two hundred pearls
to give

hoping in their lustre
we all 
could find a way
to live


For those of you keeping track, this poem marks the two-hundredth poem I have written in the past two hundred days, a goal which I set for myself on 21 July 2011 in a post that can be found by following this link.  It was often difficult, and as the words on these digital pages can testify, I often struggled in the task.  But in the end this endeavor brought me so much more than I could have ever imagined. And I must express how grateful I am to God for helping me to complete this project, because I am certain that I would not have been able to finish and post these two hundred poems without divine assistance.


My plan is to continue working regularly on this blog, and, after a very brief interlude, I will once again endeavor to write and post a new poem every day. But because of circumstances beyond my full control (including moving to another continent in the next few months) I can already foresee that this may not be always possible.  I hope at least to commit to another two-hundred day cycle in the very near future. 


I would like to thank each of you for your patience and support.  I truly hope that you benefited from reading the poems on this blog, since I know how much I benefited from writing them.  And I hope you will continue to follow my blog and other musings in the days and months ahead.  After my across-the-world move, I will begin searching for a publisher for the fiction novel that I have been working on over the past two years.  And so, God willing, soon you may be able to find my words on bookshelves, as well as at this internet address.


With much love and appreciation,
Soha Turfler
Pearls of the Water Lily 

Sunday, February 5, 2012

smoke

what fools are we
scared of the shadows
of the dark and deep
set fire to the world
thinking we'd be free

forgetting how the smoke
will cloud all we see
and now we stumble here
wandering blindly
threatened by the flames
burning at our feet

Saturday, February 4, 2012

poisoned the wind

If you have poisoned the wind
then let me breathe in 

If you have darkened the skies
then let my moonlight rise

If you silt streams to mud
then let me fill my cup

If you grow daisies with thorns
then let them brighten my morn

For whatever anguish is Thine
I pray you to make it mine

That by flavoring my blood with this spice
I may taste of your sacrifice

And thus know reunion with Thee
for this is my spirit's plea

Friday, February 3, 2012

Thursday, February 2, 2012

Schrödinger

Schrödinger's new experiment:
to place a cat within a box,
then post it on the internet
and see who says it sucks,
for the video could be good
or bad,
and both at the same time,
since it all depends upon
the viewer's state of mind.

Wednesday, February 1, 2012

dormouse

"I cannot join you at tea today," said the rabbit to the badger,
"been a bit rouseled today, indeed, even a bit rabbled,
so I must stay away today, to tend to my own matters."

"Of course, good sir," was the kind reply,
"But I am a bit concerned, good sir, so please do tell me why."

"Infestation," said the rabbit, "of an unusual kind,
you see, my dear friend badger, I've been overcome by dormice."

"Dormice?"

"Yes, dormice."

"But my good sir, I hear they're rather nice."

"Certainly," agreed the rabbit, "at least, they are polite."

"Well then," said the badger, "I see no problem at all,
bring them all along," he said, "it's easy to feed the small."

"I would if I could, my friend" said the rabbit in reply,
"but I do not think they'd come, even if I tried."

"Why?"

"Because they're sleeping in my pocketwatch, they're sleeping in my trousers,
and what is one to do, do tell, when one is full dormousered?"

"Well, carry them over," said the badger, "and we'll wake them up,
or at the very least," he said, "we'll put them in a teacup."

"A well sounding plan, my friend, but even this I cannot do." 

"And why is that, good sir?"

"They're sleeping in my shoes."

Tuesday, January 31, 2012

quarantine

the roses of this garden
cured my every malady
better than those pills
better than that surgery
thorns sharper than scalpels
 remade every part of me
caressed by their petals
their beauty was my remedy 
and now the time has come
for me to leave this quarantine
I hope I can hold on
to the fragrance of serenity

Monday, January 30, 2012

the life we lead

Baba,
Why did we spend all that time 
with all that paper?

Was it so we wouldn't forget? 

Written down, in office function, 
our memories made in lead?

And now that you've forgotten 
all the whats and whens 

is there time for your soulsick daughter
weeping at your bed?