“i want my Poetry to . . .” Volume III, Another Inner Child Press Publication Underway

With my thanks to Inner Child Press, Ltd. for creating through its “Anthologies” another poetic platform under the guidance and leadership of  Gail Weston Shazor, I share with you  the poem of my contribution to Volume III of i want my Poetry to . . . (kindly note the short video-recording by Gail Weston Shazor following the end of my name down below).

i want my poetry to…

burn tears in your hearts
then bring them to the surface
before you decide you’d better cave in
to the pain and suffering etched ever so resiliently
in your past, present and future memories
when it’s time to have that wail explode
letting out that desperately patient standby “enough!”

i want my poetry to ease you then
into the arms of a selfless child-bearer
whose lullaby will tuck you in safely
under a snuggle-obsessed blanket-sleep
after having raised you from a darkest deep
together with the gentlest touch of other souls
which learned to utter only the tongue of love
their aura will entice you into a burial ground of ashes
where to lay to rest your ire and your innermost fears
to shed all your chains to be free of also the tears
which have been fiercely carved on earth
on its every hidden nook and cranny
since the birth of humanity

. . . be a break from life . . .

i want my poetry to weld with steel
the vital holes on your pails so frail
for you to be on your steadfast way
to flood in the universe with no delay
its tamest of waters on nature’s path
will gather for you to help you cleanse
your self-unforgiving self foremost
but won’t let you once forget all else
which you may have cursed in wrath
they will amass for you serene drops of bliss
to bathe under each the bitter ghosts of your ills
chafing away your immense boulder’s mass
for a modest few little whiles at last

. . . be a break from life . . .

i want my poetry to hold your hand
every time you must weather a storm
so that you know i too have been stained
the craftiest kind left me barren with all its might
hail rushed and wedded bloodcurdling thunders
lightening was only watching from afar at first
but then it exalted their union in a raucous roar
even snow flurries of my most loyal delight
showered the procession in a sliest twist

. . . be a break from life . . .

i want my poetry to waft you in the end
inside a cloud that is mate to the mild zephyr
to undiscovered lands as well to the Seven Seas
to the faraway councils of breath-taking skies
to the communes on the many luminous moons
to the cometic homes of ancient curiosities
in pursuit of the suns of the Egyptians
of the Hindu the Chinese the Japanese
of the Greek the Aztec the African
of the Navajo the Inca the Inuit
of the Sumerian the Roman

even though i don’t sing of elation alone . . .

© hülya n. yılmaz, 11.2.2016 (The inspiration came to me in installments: First, about a month ago; then two weeks later, and finally, last weekend.)

 

 

6 Comments

Filed under Weekend Reflections

6 responses to ““i want my Poetry to . . .” Volume III, Another Inner Child Press Publication Underway

  1. my sweet dearest poet, this resonates so with me as i have been studying about brokeness,..you are often my consciousness and i am greatfilled for you and all you do…you are the best of my heart

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    • Sweet, kind, gentle Gail: Thank you for your heart-warming comment. I hope you know that I feel the same about you. Or, better yet, “i am greatfilled for you and all you do” as well. Love and light to you and yours, dear one!

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  2. awesome dear one . . . your authentic voice is powerful f.or those who listen . . . much love

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  3. In time I may find the words worthy to respond, to this poetic declaration of human pain, one must suffer to eventually reach the tranquility of held peace of mind. Extraordinary!

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    • This time, I am not going to shy away from saying this: You are extraordinary, dearest Jean-Jacques! I find myself in the same place over and over; namely, thanking you through my entire being for your continued presence here, and then, as if such act of generosity with your time were not enough, to leave me with the most inspiring comments about my poetry. No word that I can possibly utter in response feels adequate. I hope all is well with you and yours. Minnettarım. Çok minnettarım.

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