Bedrettin Yazan

Bedrettin Yazan was born in Edirne, Turkey on October 4, 1982. He spent his childhood in a small village, which he had to leave to attend middle school in the town. This was a really tough transition for him. Urban life was always hard for him to get accustomed to. Therefore, he looked forward to the summer days when he visited his parents in the village and strolled in the sunshine in the meadows and woods listening to the songs of the nature in solitary. In 1996, he enrolled in Edirne Teacher Training High School, where he was encouraged for creative writing by his literature teachers. Also, he was acting in the plays performed in the school throughout the year. He received his first poetry award for the poem he penned for Teachers’ Day. Other than this, he wrote more than 15 poems for his lover who was never aware of them. In 2000, he moved to Ankara, the capital city of Turkey for his college education. He attended the Department of Foreign Language Education at Middle East Technical University, and in this program, he took a variety of literature courses. His love for poetry was rekindled when he started reading British and American Poetry and getting involved in Western Philosophy and Greek Mythology. He kept his enthusiasm and avid reading throughout his MA degree courses in British Literature. These readings considerably contributed to the poems he submitted to The Tower.

Currently he is pursuing his Ph.D. at the University of Maryland at College Park.


It was a breathe, half-taken,
It was a sun, half-risen,
It was a picture, half-painted,
It was a love, half-lived.

My soul fades away,
Plunges into the waves of the sea,
Or into a nutshell,
Or into an owl’s eyes,
Or into trunk of a tree,
But couldn’t find thence thee.

Serenity of the night!
Take me, carry me, drag me,
To the eagle’s nest and,
Let me sleep with the storks,
Listen to their stories,
Travel on their wings.

Kroisos witnessed
How idly my heart was beating
When her breathe slapped my face,
Her look stroked my eyes,
Hey, Kroisos, forget the golden coins,
Among the bushes,
Let yourself into her eyes,
Then, enjoy the ending
In your best friend’s wording.


Knelt the man on the path
Which has for ages shouldered
The heaviest hearts
Having left their lovers back.

Smelt then he the dust
With secret tears which was flushed
From the eyes of the brave striders.

He cried:
You, the path beaten
By the shoes tasting
The harshest exhaustion,
Let me ear the stories you heard
In your countless pages, hide me
In your days, hours, minutes, bury me
Where you haven thousands of me.


His heart soaked with tears
Forgetting the times he cheers.
His story!
That unceasingly haunts his memory.
He is doomed to re-live it
Once he shuts his eyes
To the eternity.

Coming back home,
Questions screwing his head
Eschewing answering ‘m
Procrastination kills,
But Time is so generous
Unwittingly he reckons.

Before the gate awaiting a chariot he saw
Peering him
Eye piercing impatient horses
Whose eyes
Darker than darkness
Deeper than deepness
He could just listen to the silence
Waiting to be disturbed by the trumpet.

Sweat in his hands
Awfully cold
His head down
The chariot he got on
Ridding his mind
of all the questions
in an Empty time.


Between two streams
I was rushing,
Listening to what the grass is singing
A melody reminding ‘the day’
And the childish games we play,

The stones in my pocket
The memories in my mind
The pages in my life
The smiles on my face
The faces in my eyes
The whispers in my ears
The sweat in my hands
The excitement in my heart

I packed ‘m all in a bag
No company I beg


Pecked on a rock like a duck I had
Thinking and thanking the night
A veil hiding a lot from my mind
Silent and deep was the darkness around

Earing the earth I was,
Talking to the owls - peering me straight,
Wording less they were but meaning a lot,
Thinking and thanking these sage birds
Which are showing the color of the water
Surging beneath my mind

Copyright © 2010 Bedrettin Yazan