Beneath the Grand Dome: Poems of Peace and Presence
Author having tea on top of the hotel.
In Istanbul’s embrace, where East meets West, A tale of domes and minarets that crest. A journey’s whim, a skyline’s bloom, A chapter penned in the Blue Mosque’s room.
Beneath the gaze of its spires so tall, History’s whispers in every hall. A breakfast view, a feast unfolds, A city’s heart, in morning’s gold.
Breakfast facing the Bhosphorus
Olives dance, cheese whispers tales, Börek sighs, a scent that sails. The city wakes, the Bosphorus sings, In my teacup, reflection’s wings.
The streets a canvas, time’s own muse, With every step, the past infuse. The tram’s clang, a living thread, Through ancient paths, my curiosity led.
Courtyard of Blue Mosque
To Sultan Ahmed’s hallowed ground, Where six minarets in sky are found. No rivalry, just harmony’s play, Beside Hagia Sophia, they proudly sway.
A courtyard vast, with waters clear, Echoing prayers that the faithful hear. I enter in, a cool respite, From Istanbul’s endless appetite.
The beauty of Blue Mosque
The ‘Blue’ revealed in tiles’ embrace, Stories in ceramic grace. Sunlight dances through colored glass, Time’s mosaic, a kaleidoscope’s mass.
Amongst the pillars, I quietly stand, Feeling the touch of a timeless hand. A visitor, yet welcomed so, In this peace, the world feels slow.
Inside Blue Mosque
The carpet’s weave, the light’s soft kiss, Humanity’s tapestry, in silent bliss. Not just a site for eyes to roam, But a lived experience, history’s home.
Hours I linger, in corners’ peace, Where murmurs of prayers never cease. In vastness found, a bond profound, To all who’ve walked this sacred ground.
As daylight fades, the mosque in glow, The call to prayer, a familiar flow. I take my leave, with heart so full, Of beauty’s quest, and life’s pull.
The city breathes, alive, awake, In every scent, in each sound it makes. The mosque at night, a beacon’s call, A haven of peace, amidst it all.
With memories rich, I find my way, Knowing Istanbul will call me back one day. Where history lives, stones share their tales, In the shadow of minarets, my heart sails.
The Blue Mosque, a giant kind, Whispers stories to the mind. In its presence, we’re all but guests, In Istanbul’s story, where beauty rests.
From Breakfast Views to Blue Tiles: Discovering the Wonders of the Blue Mosque
Istanbul — My Travelogue
Istanbul, a city that straddles two continents, has always been a melting pot of civilizations, a blend of the ancient and the modern, the tranquil and the chaotic.
It was on a crisp, sunny morning in this historic metropolis that I found myself perched atop my hotel, looking out over a skyline that’s been a backdrop to history for thousands of years.
The view was breathtaking, and the minarets of the Blue Mosque punctured the horizon, commanding my attention even from a distance.
The view was breathtaking, and the minarets of the Blue Mosque punctured the horizon, commanding my attention even from a distance.
With a generous spread of Turkish delights laid out before me, the flavors of the city began to unfold with every bite.
Olives, cheese, and cucumbers paired with a warm, flaky börek filled with spinach and feta — the quintessential Turkish breakfast.
It was more than just a meal; it was a celebration of culture, a sensory introduction to a land that’s been the crossroads of empires.
I lingered over my Turkish tea, the glass cup delicate in my hands, and gazed out at the city waking up.
The mosque’s six minarets reached skyward as if in competition with the nearby Hagia Sophia.
With the taste of honey still on my tongue, I set out for the Sultan Ahmed Mosque, known to many as the Blue Mosque.
The streets of Istanbul are an open-air museum, and every step towards the mosque was a walk through time.
The city’s tram clanged by, a reminder that while Istanbul is a guardian of history, it’s also a vibrant, living city.
The mosque’s six minarets reached skyward as if in competition with the nearby Hagia Sophia, yet there was no sense of rivalry here — only harmonious coexistence.
The space was filled with the sound of water from the ablution fountains, a reminder of the mosque’s spiritual purpose.
As I entered the courtyard, I was struck by its sheer size — the biggest of all the Ottoman mosques, they said, and I could well believe it.
The space was filled with the sound of water from the ablution fountains, a reminder of the mosque’s spiritual purpose.
Slipping off my shoes, I stepped inside and was enveloped by a cool, serene atmosphere that contrasted with the city’s hustle and bustle.
The nickname ‘Blue Mosque’ became immediately apparent.
The nickname ‘Blue Mosque’ became immediately apparent.
The blue Iznik tiles, each telling a story of its own, climbed the enormous interior walls, and the sunlight filtered through more than 200 stained glass windows, bathing the space in a kaleidoscope of color.
It was a quiet moment of awe, standing there among the pillars that held up the grand dome.
I was a mere visitor, but the mosque didn’t differentiate. It stood as a sanctuary to all — a symbol of peace in a world too often divided.
The intricate designs on the carpet, the soft light, and the hushed tones of visitors from around the globe created a tapestry of human connection.
The intricate designs on the carpet, the soft light, and the hushed tones of visitors from around the globe created a tapestry of human connection.
The Blue Mosque wasn’t just a monument to visit; it was an experience to be lived — a moment where time stood still and the past and present merged into one.
I spent hours inside, sitting in corners, watching the play of light on the walls, listening to the gentle murmurs of prayers.
In that vastness, I found a profound sense of peace, a deep connection to the millions who had come before me, each with their own stories, their own hopes and dreams.
I looked back at the grand structure, thinking of the sultans and architects, the worshippers and tourists, and the many sunsets it had seen.
As the day began to wane, I made my way out, the call to prayer once again resonating across the courtyard.
I looked back at the grand structure, thinking of the sultans and architects, the worshippers and tourists, and the many sunsets it had seen.
The Blue Mosque, with its domes and minarets, was more than just the pride of a skyline; it was a testament to humanity’s quest for beauty and meaning.
Leaving the mosque, the city’s energy enveloped me once more.
The scent of roasting chestnuts filled the air, and the sound of seagulls blended with the buzz of conversation.
Leaving the mosque, the city’s energy enveloped me once more.
Istanbul was alive, a city that never truly rests, yet within its heart, there was a haven of tranquility in the Blue Mosque.
As night fell and the mosque lit up against the darkening sky, I carried with me the memory of its blue tiles and silent prayers.
Istanbul is many things to many people, but to me, it will always be a place where history breathes, where every stone tells a story, and where the Blue Mosque stands as a gentle giant, whispering tales of the past to those who take the time to listen.
Dr. Mazlan Abbas 