{"id":1148,"date":"2018-12-18T18:28:55","date_gmt":"2018-12-18T18:28:55","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.iwabogdani.org\/?p=1148"},"modified":"2023-12-21T13:16:29","modified_gmt":"2023-12-21T13:16:29","slug":"serpil-devrim-turkey","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.iwabogdani.org\/sq\/serpil-devrim-turkey\/","title":{"rendered":"Serpil Devrim, Turkey"},"content":{"rendered":"

Serpil Devrim Member of IWA Bogdani\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Born in <\/span>06 January <\/span>1960 in \u0130stanbul<\/span>-Turkey<\/span><\/p>\n

Her interest and love for poetry and literature began in her middle school years.<\/span><\/p>\n

Speaks English and German.<\/span><\/p>\n

She graduated High School.<\/span><\/p>\n

She completed her certificate programs related to her profession in Turkey and Canada.<\/span><\/p>\n

She worked in Istanbul as an <\/span>IATA agent and foreign trade<\/span> company owner for 15 years and she moved to Canada<\/span>. She worked at \u0130nternational Logistic company and <\/span>lived there for 12 years. After returning to Turkey, she started to publish her works.<\/span><\/p>\n

Has a daughter named Nazli.<\/span><\/p>\n

Poetry Books:<\/span><\/p>\n

At the Birth of day\u00a0 <\/span>\/ \u00c7\u0131ng\u0131 Publishing<\/span>\/ 2012-\u0130stanbul-Turkey<\/span><\/p>\n

One half is half done \/ Artshop Publishing<\/span>\/ 2017-\u0130stanbul-Turkey<\/span><\/p>\n

The road was ending \/ Kaynak Publishing<\/span>\/2014-\u0130stanbul-Turkey<\/span><\/p>\n

Pain of the Earth\/ Artshop Publishing\/2018-\u0130stanbul-Turkey<\/span><\/p>\n

Short Stories:<\/span><\/p>\n

Purple alphabet women \/ Artshop Publishing<\/span>\/2017-\u0130stanbul-Turkey<\/span><\/p>\n

Novel: <\/span><\/p>\n

Like water \/ M\u00fch\u00fcr Publishing<\/span>\/2016-\u0130stanbul-Turkey<\/span><\/p>\n

Serpil Devrim has won the Muammer Hac\u0131o\u011flu Literary Award for her book One Half is Half Done in April 2018.<\/span><\/p>\n

In her poetry, she focuses on social issues, inspired by real life. She also writes love poems, socialist and lyric lines. Her poems, her novel and her stories are racial, violence and war against and she read her poems in diffferent radio and television channels and shared her humanist views with listeners and viewers.<\/span><\/p>\n

One Half is Half Done was translated to Russian and Bulgarian<\/span> in 2017-2018,<\/span> Purple Alphabet Women and Like Water were translated to Bulgarian<\/span> in 2018. <\/span>Her poem named Wall was translated to Italian and published in an Italian literature magazine<\/span>in 2018.<\/span> The poems Wall, Hold My Dead Branches, and The Poem of the 100th Day were translated to\u00a0 <\/span>Balkanian Languages and published in Balkan Literary Herald magazine<\/span> in 2018. <\/span>Also was translated to Bulgarian and published in another literary magazine ; Balkanski Knji\u017eevni Glasnik<\/span> in 2019 and some poems published in Femina Literature Magazine in Uzbekistan and published English, Turkish and Arabic Samama \u0130nternational Literature Magazine in Morocco in 2018, and Afaqhorra Literature Magazine in Jordan.<\/span><\/p>\n

Many of her poems and short stories were published in different literature magazines in Turkey.Some of these magazines are: Kasabadan Esinti, Menek\u015fe, Bodrum G\u00fcndem, Berfin Bahar, Adalya, Tmolos Edebiyat, Aratos, Lacivert and M\u00fch\u00fcr.<\/span><\/p>\n

She has taken place at many different international poetry festivals such as : Femin\u0130stanbul, Bodrum Bineali and Kalimerhaba.<\/span><\/p>\n

She is involved with many charities and works with disabled and homeless children.<\/span><\/p>\n

She lives in Bodrum.<\/span><\/p>\n

She is a member of the PEN \u0130nternational Writers Associat\u0131on in Turkey.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The Poem of the 100th Day<\/span><\/p>\n

vinedresser, i linked my voice to sky, erase death<\/span><\/p>\n

i am a stone-sculptor tonight i linked my voice to sky<\/span><\/p>\n

my eyes sculpted what outweighed them<\/span><\/p>\n

the crowd of my outside, the isolation of my inside<\/span><\/p>\n

sculpted gently the side of me that was offended by life<\/span><\/p>\n

i took it to the city square and left it there<\/span><\/p>\n

i\u2019m too lonely for anyone to notice me<\/span><\/p>\n

my apprenticeship of stone age is a rodent in my chest cavity<\/span><\/p>\n

my semi-skilled working, my bronze age, <\/span><\/p>\n

the slip-of-tongue wing of whirligig<\/span><\/p>\n

my iron age is my mastership, by inner beauty that attracts the devil<\/span><\/p>\n

in a sleazy capstan-free well the cementer\u2019s cap<\/span><\/p>\n

vinedresser, i linked my voice to sky, erase death<\/span><\/p>\n

i am a stone-sculptor tonight i linked my voice to sky<\/span><\/p>\n

i sculpted what outweighed my tongue<\/span><\/p>\n

seven generations, seven shirts off of the back of the stone<\/span><\/p>\n

young and old alike the great powers off of the belly of the stone<\/span><\/p>\n

i spilled from my skirt ash-colored and rose-scented<\/span><\/p>\n

i took my heart out and loaded my emotional clamorous side<\/span><\/p>\n

onto the hands of a callow off-tune musician<\/span><\/p>\n

i sculpted the earth to cleanse it of its dirt<\/span><\/p>\n

the lifeguard with little room and a large heart rang the bell<\/span><\/p>\n

blew its whistle its vigorous siren<\/span><\/p>\n

quite appropriate for a tale, quite against the genuine<\/span><\/p>\n

the bite in her throat turned out to be a hard row to hoe<\/span><\/p>\n

put her seamy lustful foot down<\/span><\/p>\n

vinedresser, i linked my voice to sky, erase death<\/span><\/p>\n

i am a stone-sculptor tonight i linked my voice to sky<\/span><\/p>\n

two acrobats on one tightrope, impatient and fond of comfort,<\/span><\/p>\n

the one heavily seethed the one whose face is down<\/span><\/p>\n

the fond one and the one with no dreams all of them is a memory loss<\/span><\/p>\n

their skulls are the size of a huge cave each of them<\/span><\/p>\n

i eroded the surface, took it out, slam it down<\/span><\/p>\n

my flesh blood and memory thought <\/span><\/p>\n

it wouldn\u2019t be heard when slammed<\/span><\/p>\n

the joy of cleansing gleamed on the cutter<\/span><\/p>\n

vinedresser, i linked my voice to sky, erase death<\/span><\/p>\n

i am a stone-sculptor tonight i linked my voice to sky<\/span><\/p>\n

i sculpted my heart, open wounds around it apparent<\/span><\/p>\n

people passed by, passed away, hunger hasn\u2019t had enough yet<\/span><\/p>\n

\n

The Dead Poet<\/span><\/p>\n

the dead poet is a river exiled from its bed<\/span><\/p>\n

its gurgle is without foot or rhyme<\/span><\/p>\n

its flow is the linear of existence<\/span><\/p>\n

the path it knows is courageous and open<\/span><\/p>\n

water takes the form of the container<\/span><\/p>\n

dress the form of the body in it<\/span><\/p>\n

and the chewn bits the form of the mouth<\/span><\/p>\n

the bed of the poet for the outbursts<\/span><\/p>\n

is like the narrow Aegean shores<\/span><\/p>\n

the Cretan promontory<\/span><\/p>\n

its two sides are the song of goats<\/span><\/p>\n

and a lyric poem blessed with immortality<\/span><\/p>\n

on the land of the dead<\/span><\/p>\n

its heart never decays<\/span><\/p>\n

the river exiled from its bed<\/span><\/p>\n

stripped of its privacy<\/span><\/p>\n

it brings down stars from the sky<\/span><\/p>\n

and bath<\/span>e<\/span>s in its own water<\/span><\/p>\n

it’s hilly and rocky when seen from the sea<\/span><\/p>\n

when seen from the land there are crazy blue waves only<\/span><\/p>\n

with their hard-line freedom<\/span><\/p>\n

it sweeps before itself the ways<\/span><\/p>\n

landless peasants walk on<\/span><\/p>\n

and the aid sailors seek<\/span><\/p>\n

it grows ou<\/span>t<\/span> of the labors<\/span><\/p>\n

of workers and splitters<\/span><\/p>\n

and lies next to dead children<\/span><\/p>\n

decapitated at each war<\/span><\/p>\n

it had sad eyes at each break up<\/span><\/p>\n

it gurgles to death<\/span><\/p>\n

with fragile <\/span>l<\/span>oves at its core<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Hold My Dead Branches !<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 <\/span>\u201cmy soul was a door handle<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 <\/span>as my mind never matched the steps\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

the brunette refugee child with otherworldly descriptions<\/span><\/p>\n

who lands down on the cage of my chest fluttering<\/span><\/p>\n

your face is the gap called wound this evening<\/span><\/p>\n

your eyes were a single country, the whole earth<\/span><\/p>\n

the insensitivity of this era is a death trap<\/span><\/p>\n

the thundering robbery, plunder, pillage of an avalanche<\/span><\/p>\n

with its cooperative loam the red-brown marsh<\/span><\/p>\n

depth and the subsiding weight do go away<\/span><\/p>\n

lacking humanity that makes it lose its way<\/span><\/p>\n

it has no roof to wash ashore or to take shelter<\/span><\/p>\n

in september the unhugged body the surplus of water<\/span><\/p>\n

the iceberg drifting from where it belongs is just like you<\/span><\/p>\n

woven for the outer world a long time ago<\/span><\/p>\n

its fragile body lessens by moments, from which<\/span><\/p>\n

it adds itself to the water that will drown us all<\/span><\/p>\n

wherever i turn the speed of light is the same<\/span><\/p>\n

one\u2019s circle, occasionally recurring mercy sprinkle<\/span><\/p>\n

which pours down on the sift of the sky<\/span><\/p>\n

from a long distance<\/span><\/p>\n

Hold my dead branches ! Hold my dead branches !<\/span><\/p>\n

let the dead leaf fall !<\/span><\/p>\n

let my crooked branch flatten\u2026<\/span><\/p>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Serpil Devrim Member of IWA Bogdani\u00a0 Born in 06 January 1960 in \u0130stanbul-Turkey Her interest and love for poetry and literature began in her middle school years. Speaks English and German. She graduated High School. She completed her certificate programs related to her profession in Turkey and Canada. She worked in Istanbul as an IATA […]<\/p>","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":3636,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_exactmetrics_skip_tracking":false,"_exactmetrics_sitenote_active":false,"_exactmetrics_sitenote_note":"","_exactmetrics_sitenote_category":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[171,162],"tags":[],"book_author":[],"book_publisher":[],"acf":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.iwabogdani.org\/sq\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1148"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.iwabogdani.org\/sq\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.iwabogdani.org\/sq\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.iwabogdani.org\/sq\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.iwabogdani.org\/sq\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1148"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.iwabogdani.org\/sq\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1148\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":3635,"href":"https:\/\/www.iwabogdani.org\/sq\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1148\/revisions\/3635"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.iwabogdani.org\/sq\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/3636"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.iwabogdani.org\/sq\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1148"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.iwabogdani.org\/sq\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1148"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.iwabogdani.org\/sq\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1148"},{"taxonomy":"book_author","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.iwabogdani.org\/sq\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/book_author?post=1148"},{"taxonomy":"book_publisher","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.iwabogdani.org\/sq\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/book_publisher?post=1148"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}