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ISSN 1409-6900 | UDK 82+7     Blesok no. 100 | volume  | September, 2015



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                     Peer-reviewed journal
Blesok no. 100September, 2015
Reviews

IGOR DOESN’T WRITE POEMS, HE DOES THEM

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Melike Inci

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IGOR DOESN’T WRITE POEMS, HE DOES THEM

I’ve said so many times: “You must read Igor Isakovski’s poems!”, but I’ve never said why. I guess it’s time.
    We don’t follow contemporary poets. Especially, in the last years, the interest in poetry has decreased. We know so few new poets after “Second New Movement”, if we haven’t gotten stuck in the “Strange” era. With this reality inside our borders we don’t get a chance to know poets from abroad.
    I’ve come across Igor Isakovski’s poems thanks to his book “F.ck You Isakovski” launch gathering in May. I had the chance to hear the poems from himself in his language, to which I am not even a little bit familiar. Even so, I had a strange feeling as if I understood what he was saying. When Gökçenur Ç, who translated his poems to Turkish, started to read, in a way, understanding became tangible.
    The first poem selected for the book “Looking for an Inspiration?” is like a guide to Isakovski’s poetry. He’s inspired from his suffering caused by his awareness, rebellion in times of defeat, things he can hold onto when he’s at the bottom, his journeys, love and passion, eligible literature and also more importantly, in my opinion, from the doubt in himself. When reading with these elements in hand you come to understand easily the source of the real sorrow in his poems. Yet because of this, the caressing on your cheek through his lines becomes an instant smack. It’s not an intentional smack given by poet, it is caused by the bond he builds with the reader and the fact that he touches in the right place.
    The selected poems for this book let you read, without thinking behind closed meaning as “what did the poet want to say”, with the Isakovski’s emotion flow, fell to raise, undefeated, with pain, passion, sometimes the affection of a father, and mostly with "awareness". You need to take a long or short break to breathe in after every poem. I, generally, tend to read all at once when I first meet with a poetry book. Actually, I couldn’t do it with this one. My first attempt ended when I arrived to the sixth poem: “Alright”, which starts with these lines: “alright, let me confess to myself: / I am alone. full stop.” I stopped right there. I’ve heard this poem at the reading. Actually,






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