Şakir Kurtulmuş
He was born in 1958 in Eskişehir. He graduated from the Oriental Languages Department of The Faculty of Literature of Istanbul University. Since 1977 he has worked in several newspapers and magazines. For a long time he was in charge of preparing “Arts-Literature Page”. His poems and writings appeared in magazines such as Yönelişler, Mavera, Aylık Dergi, Edep, Türk Dili, Ay Vakti, Ayine, Bir Nokta, Şehir ve Kültür, Edebiyat Ortamı, Temmuz, and Yedi İklim. His two biographies of “Hz. Hamza / His Holiness Hamza” and “Bilal-i Habeşi / Bilal al-Habashi” were printed by Beyan Publishing House. He currently serves as the editor of the “literary series” at Çıra Publishing House. His two essay books, “Edebiyatın İzi / Imprint of Literature” and “Kültürün İzi / Imprint of Culture” were published as part of Çıra literature series.

His poetry books

  • Ah Güzel Bir Gün / Ah Such a Nice Day
  • Yusuf’un Kuyusu / Yusuf’s Well
  • Ölüm ve Ayna /Death and Mirror.

Old days

you are the one with your fingers marked
you are the moon feeding historical towns
you are the name of the spring in our language
you are the load descending from heaven
on the ships carrying souls
you are the wind and mystery in my dreams
the cold sweat remained in your back
your wet skin
you are youth as you sweat off

ah myself inside me
the ill fate of my eyes
maybe the soul belongs to me
and my reflection in the mirror
with whom we talk silently
I talk by keeping quiet

my hands are mirroring the years
multiplying the old days
my secretive mind
strangling the world in darkness
painting it with seven colors of the sun
such a secretive mind
how come you would see
your face cut with retroactive maps

as going through poetry
old days’ secret
stretches towards rivers
the colors of the sick sun
enters the backyard of the house

I cannot hear the sound of the crowds
is it your eyes smiling warmly
or is it the stars dropping on the morning
in my deserted soil
chillness.. chillness…
a handful of sky
a handful of joy

birds come off from the night
in the moonlight, crumbs spill over my dinner table

With you, I cracked the secret of old days
I collected the ashes falling off the pages
writings became better readable
I caught the flow of history, the night turned into secret

I came back to the first days
when I started to learn my name
the sun shall rise again
I know, this morning again
The sun shall smile and come in