I am seeking modern beauty —
Something shining in ephemeral grandeur.
Zeitgeist, as it were.
21st century wonder.
Destructive
Improvement on the beauty of past generations.
What is the flavor of the day?
If I just grasp the train
In its perpetual motion
As it marches on
Its monotonous tracks,
My foothold would be enough for a quick climb
To the place up top.
From there, the view
Is grand, horizon
Further out.
And the next brave soul will find me
Splayed in the place up top
(Displayed only for fresher eyes,
Face burnt by the relentless Sun,
Starved to Death)

And know that I am.

--

--

With an ambience to set the mood while you read.

They call it a town
Where the girls would rather smell of the sea,
And the winding streets behind the crooked bricks
Would birth saltwater in their cracks —

The girl walks, aimless, towards a distant past,
Homer’s home, the ancient ruins, collapsed
Around the sailors’ nets and fishing calls…
The waves that wax and wane, they claim

Their once and future host, the port
And beacon call to artistic hope,
Smyrna —

Where the girls would rather smell of seaweed
In the hair of mermaids on far-flung rocks
As they dream their far-flung dreams
And listen as the seagulls soar —

Where the girls would rather smell of the winds
That pick up at the Aegean coast
And while they murmur to the seashells,
Feel the better for it all.

--

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Damla Ozdemir

Damla Ozdemir

Duke University ’23 🏫 Writer @sailors.n.yachts ⛵️ worldschooling/unschooling ✏️ 9 countries, 3 continents, 2 boarding schools, 10 languages 🏫