Poets and their troubles

After Deniz Gezmiş was executed, what remained of him, alongside books by Bertolt Brecht, Ahmed Arif, and Mehmet Fuat, were English and German dictionaries, as well as his own pocket notebook. A poem by Deniz also appears in that notebook. Its final lines are as follows:

“If the night is seized

By pitch-black roads

Shall I not offer a warm love

To the people?

Shall I not look toward the tomorrows?

Shall I not call out 

To the people?”

As an art of words, poetry naturally strives to capture emotion. It presents longing, homesickness, joy, sorrow, and at times equality, struggle, the reality of class, the land—in short, all the troubles of life—with a wisdom filtered through verses. That is why it is highly unlikely that the paths of those who set out for a "cause" would not intersect with poetry and literature. One cannot set out with soulless, cold thoughts, and that is not how comradeships are formed. For this reason, it is quite possible for the paths of poets and writers to cross at the inn of "comradeship" and to take their share from it. Indeed, even the lands we live on tell the story of the suffering endured by pens in this country, and the pressures and exiles they were subjected to. Undoubtedly, at the forefront of these are poets like Nazım Hikmet and Ahmet Arif, whom Deniz loved so dearly. 

On the other hand, we know that many writers have taken their places in the benches of Parliament as deputies from the past to the present. Before moving on to those names, I would like to continue with the memoirs of Murat Belge.

It was during the days of the March 12 memorandum. Murat Belge, through his friend Mehmet Sönmez, grew closer to the THKP-C. During this process, the two friends collected money for the organization from the poets and writers of the period. According to Belge, Edip Cansever and Turgut Uyar made regular monthly financial contributions to the aforementioned organization. In fact, at one point, Turgut Uyar made a suggestion that went beyond mere financial aid.

Specifically, during a meal, Murat Belge found a context to tell Turgut Uyar that his unpublished poems could be reproduced and that they could help with this. Upon this, Turgut Uyar turned to Belge, referring to the THKP-C, and asked, "Do you have a connection with these people?" Belge replied, "No, my dear, what does that have to do with anything?" and the conversation took a more striking turn.

Because a short while later, Turgut Uyar left the room and eventually returned with a pistol in his hand. "Look, this is my service pistol from my military service," he began. Then, the following words, which would go down in history, spilled from his lips: "I could rob a bank very well, and it wouldn't even cross anyone's mind!" As is known, in those days, political organizations, primarily the THKP-C, were also on the agenda with "bank robberies."  

While mentioning Cansever, one cannot help but recall these lines he wrote: 

Is it called dead

"Is it called dead now for them

Their hearts stopped long ago

Should we call them dead now

Their pupils do not move

Should we call them dead then

Anchored in the greatest ports

Like the greatest ships

Their pupils do not move.”

It is now a matter of historical record with what emotions Cansever penned these lines, from what state of mind he brought these words to life, and how he immortalized his thoughts through them. Just as in these lines by Yaşar Kemal:

“Ulaş, my rose is beautiful

My humanity, my path is beautiful

Brother, after you die

I swear by God, death is beautiful.”

Naturally, once you catch the scent of the poem, it is not easy to leave that garden. Let us continue then with verses penned with similar sentiments.

Let us start with Atilla İlhan:

“They were young saplings erupted from a forest fire

They carved light from the sun, they were tough men”

Their laughter was reckless, it would stir the light

They left, and before evening fell, the surroundings grew dark”

And this one is from Can Yücel:

“The souls have tears in their eyes,

Their minds on a comrade facing execution,

Struggling with green death

At five o'clock in the afternoon”

The name of Ahmet Erhan's son is Deniz. And he expresses in one of his poems that this name has a meaning, addressing his son with these words: 

“My son, do not forget your name,

it was not given to you in vain” 

He wants his son to be like Deniz Gezmiş. These lines also belong to the poet: 

“Brotherhood, courage, and error,

My son, do not forget your name,

Remember the bodies that marched against history.”

Leaving the garden of poetry; abandoning friendship, love, resistance, longing, the sun, and spring is not easy, but let us bid farewell to the garden with these lines by Arkadaş Zekai.

The poet begins his poem 'Aşkla Sana' (To You With Love) as follows:

“the one who warms

their forehead with mountain fire

the one who washes

their face with blood, my friend

yours

the burgundy rose smiling on your lip while you sleep

let it be the rebellion that threshes my heart

now in your serene body

a silence growing with a hum

one day in my hand

may it be a Mauser impatient to explode”

Now let us come to the writers in the parliamentary benches...

Some of the names of those writers are as follows: Ahmet Rasim, Hüseyin Rahmi Gürpınar, Memduh Şevket Esendal, Reşat Nuri Güntekin, Ahmet Hamdi Tanpınar, Reşat Nuri Güntekin, Yakup Kadri Karaosmanoğlu, Fuat Köprülü. All of these names became deputies from the CHP benches. Only Köprülü served as a deputy for both the CHP and the Democrat Party. Furthermore, Halide Edip Adıvar,  Arif Nihat Asya, Samet Ağaoğlu, and Faruk Nafiz Çamlıbel became deputies from the Democrat Party benches, while Çetin Altan became a deputy from the Workers' Party of Turkey. By the way, without forgetting, we also know that Necip Fazıl Kısakürek, who would later appear before us as a "staunch Islamist," had also applied to the CHP to become a deputy, but could not become a CHP member because his application was not approved. 

If there is one more thing we know, it is this: The pen has had, and will continue to have, things to say about love, passion, struggle, religion, the sacred, in short, about all creatures and the entirety of human experience. Because writing is, to some extent, possible through trouble. The writer and the poet had a struggle with unresolved knots, untraveled roads, and unattainable goals. That trouble became an emotion, a breath trapped in the middle of the heart; it became a wound that aches whenever remembered. The remedy for this trouble reveals itself by being poured onto paper. Of course, the trouble may not end, and the cure may never come, but the soul takes a breath, the mind is freed from its shackles, and emotions find a position and settle in. These are no small things.

It would not be right to talk about poets, sensitivity, and the haunts of the pen without ending the article with a poem. In that case, let us leave the closing lines to Rıfat Ilgaz: Here you go:

“The roads are blocked, the fields are surrounded

Barbed wire has encircled your surroundings

Birds of prey are circling above you

Are you trying to say that my time has passed

Open your two arms to both sides

Become a scarecrow”

 https://t24.com.tr/yazarlar/murat-belge/cemal-sureya-edip-cansever-turgut-uyar-can-yucel-sair-dostlarim,40001