October Snow

The door is closed but the cold enters the room through the holes of living moves. It comes to embrace and tell me it is time for a small cup of coffee and long socks made of wool.

The yellow radio on the desk starts to sing a song that freezes your heart, so you get lost in memories to let the tears warm you up inside.

The sound of birds transformed into dancing trees and white screams, the cars are ready to sleep and shut down their engines.

The laughter of boots becomes the companion of lost souls, while the surrounding becomes a wide road of solitude.

Where are those dreams we hid inside falling codes of snowflakes, and the taste of flashbacks hidden behind a snowman’s nose?

Sâye La Moonbird 🌜

Picture © to Pinterest

October Sounds Yellowish


October has arrived with a rainy Tuesday. People and cars welcomed the yellow season with singing wipers and smiling umbrellas. The clouds feel relieved and enjoy their freedom from heavy memories. Birds take a shower and swim inside rivers of falling leaves. October has just arrived, but the surrounding already smells like autumn and long coats. Can’t wait to run against the clouds…can’t wait to be crowded by cold lights.

Sâye La Moonbird 🌜

Picture © to Pinterest

Poeming Oneself

The act of writing is an amazing method to learn more about yourself. It shows our strengths and weaknesses, our vulnerabilities and what makes us happy human beings. Since years I try to write down what’s on my mind and write poems that convey different thoughts and perspectives. I’m in my 20s and I experienced many different things and have been to many different places but I learned the most about myself through writing. Especially writing poems helped me to discover what worries my soul and what kind of human being I want to be. Some of my poems sound bad, some sound a bit absurd and some of them make no sense at all and readers might never want to read them again. However, all of these poems helped me to start a conversation with myself and let me recognize the soul that exists inside my body. That’s why I want to keep writing while continuing to live in this world. I want to keep on poeming my mind and discover and understand the language of my soul.

Sâye La Moonbird 🌜


Picture © to Pinterest

Eau de Septembre

Rooms are full with unread pages and turn into libraries of hope and solitude, blankets are new friends to approach while existing between the four walls of life.

Cold rain and dusty window views are showing people becoming one with the sound of crashing tunes, sadness feels warm and shoots arrows of cozy moods.

Cars are screaming and befriend the tears of clouds, the night smells like candle light and stars, ready to imprison the sorrows of the daylight.

Bakeries are companions of dreams and hide the pain of nightmares, my eyes become doors to peaceful thoughts and writers of cloudy folklores.

Sâye La Moonbird 🌜

Picture © to Pinterest


Everyday feels the same, sounds the same and smells identical. The day starts with an early jump and ends with an exhausted mind. Sleep seems to be afraid of the soul and joins the night very lately.

Dreamland went to a place two far away and does not visit the place that needs it the most. While the mind starts to relax and enjoy the peace of the darkness, worries of light fill the eyes of the soul with tears of ticking times. 10 minutes left until the existence rings the bell and opens the door to suffering hearts.

Tick tock…tick tock…tick tock…

The fear of light kills the comfort of a short insight into the happiness of closed minds…

Now it’s time to disappear between the sounds of busy streets and busy lives.

Sâye La Moonbird 🌜

Photo Artwork © Pinterest




It’s today…

Today, I am on a trip that will change my life.

A long trip to a place without a name.

A place that hides all those dreams and hopes that got lost inside dusty voids constructed by gloomy human beings.

A place that smells yellow and blue, a place where all the seasons greet each other with big smiles and agree to coexist. When the clouds appear to recite their favourite poems, the purple rain feels warm and safe and tastes like white chocolate.

A green sun puts the lost souls into a long standing sleep, a pallid moon inspires the visions of human existence.

The road feels too long to grasp the changing units of time.

My eyes can’t wait to meet the place children sing of in their daily naps.

Finally, I start to feel the light, a new universe shapes itself in front of me….I have reached the place that will set me free.



A smile shapes itself on my face and my brown eyes transform into rhyming stars.

Sâye La Moonbird 🌜

Photo Artwork © Denis Sheckler


The road is full with moving expressions that start to get blurry.


Someone seems to smile at me, but slowly turns his face to the other side without reading the words inside my eyes.

So many people are looking at me, screaming at me, bumping into me, pushing me towards a wall made of weak humans but don’t recognize me at all.

Did I become invisible?

I want to say something, I want to scream a name, I want to show a smile to those beautiful faces, I want to show disgust to those people who hide their real intentions behind a mask of fake smiles, but I can’t express any emotions, I can’t remember any word or letter that should be produced and uttered through the voice that is hiding behind my lips. I think I know their names but why do my lips not move? Even if I’ll be able to say those different constructions of complicated letters, will I recognize myself? I don’t remember the sound of my soul. What if I won’t be able to control the words as I’m not able to hear myself?

I want to go somewhere I can’t recall…No, I want to run. But where did I come from, where is the beginning of the road, where are the houses and the cars? The only thing I see are these familiar faces I can’t look at anymore. Their familiarity is frightening me…they’re on the front, on my back, on the right and on the left….they are only material faces that look at me but do not see me. I close my eyes, I don’t want to look at them anymore….but the presence of their fabricated souls is scarier than their lying faces.

My breath starts to leave me, I feel my body disappearing and I feel imprisoned inside myself which I can’t recognize anymore.

The rain starts to get heavier, which one of the reflections inside these raindrops is the representation of my soul?

Finally, I lose consciousness and hence I lose myself.

Sâye La Moonbird 🌜