Category Archives: Poetry

Aksum . . .

December 17 was the last date when I had posted on my blog . . . I have truly missed being here . . . so, here I am with the first entry of 2018 (Happy New Year, by the by) . . . my three poems that will appear in the January, 2018 issue of The Year of the Poet V, an anthology published by the globe-reaching Inner Child Press (monthly poetry offerings of the Poetry Posse and between 3-4 featured new poets). Entering 2018 strong in its 5th year, this publication will provide the reader with insights into a different cultural entity across the world in each of its issues. January’s focus was Aksum.

what i knew would simply not do

Ethiopia
the early Christian era
but Red Sea ruler?

~ ~ ~

empires surely rise

and
as we live it every day today
they also fall
out of history’s authentic tracks, that is
for only white men get to etch make-believe memories
in acid on the indestructible fabric of lies to come
together, of course, with co-travelers –their women
who in the footsteps of
their 19th century Orientalist counterparts
first become enchanted
(or better yet drunken)
by the foreign “object” of their own fantasies
but then upon their return to their home countries
adhere themselves in perfected loyalty to
painting, writing or chanting
pieces of fascinating stories
all of which serve to mesmerize
the self-appointed ”Subject”
of highest esteem in its collective existence

the “other” is doomed . . .
doomed beyond erasure
far beyond the abyss
of eternity

history’s selective books
again and again, as our times evidence anew,
mount permanently
those powers of self-erected “superior” thrones
in their self-designated importance
for generations and more and more generations to come
on self-constructed paper reserved for mass readings
however fast their seats’ physical capacity
may outgrow their miniscule competence
failing to make room for their incurable ignorance . . .

The Aksum Kingdom too is doomed
doomed to remain as “the inferior other”
not to be ever revered for
what it had in fact been, was and will be
namely, a domain of notable accomplishment
among our current world’s celebrated civilizations
worthy of equally noble presentations
as well as proud representations

it is doomed instead

if only this empire had not been discovered
to be an achievement of blacks
created as a “promised land for uprooted Africans”

if only this empire had not been revived
for its utterly memorable existence
through the efforts of enslaved
18th century black preachers
amid us

in the good old United States . . .

~ ~ ~

what is to be your mark?

Aksum’s origin
is not to be traced back to
Semitic kingdoms

 

3 Comments

Filed under Poetry

“no longer the same one”

please do not tell me anymore
how to cross my sitting legs in a skirt
to hide well under my pants the private fabric 
in what age-order to serve guests our coffee
what to do with the crumbs on the dining table
(no hand swipes on to my palms!)
not to laugh heartily in public
to wait for my turn in speaking up anywhere
. . .

my instincts had no trouble
accommodating the required obvious
catering to the needs and wants
other than my own
while i knew deep inside
that you all 
meant well
carrying me through life with your love

i am of old age now
and i have had enough

still conflicting no harm to anyone
holding not even an ounce of ill will
in any of my body’s cells
or inside the pure chambers of my heart
i am forevermore
as gentle as ever before
toward those 
who had no business in mine
or continue to think they have the right

i have had my bountiful share
of personal sacrifices

for self-prolonging decades
and then some more beyond
. . .

i am of old age now

and i have had enough

please do not judge me anymore
for actions that i have not undertaken
nor for the spirit-lifting deeds 
i was (and will always be)
happy to carry out

without inhibitions
with no hesitancy
through
with
and in love
love for one
love for all

a few chunks of real life
are awaiting me
as these days i find
in sweetest delight

i will not cease
to care about you
nor to eternally treasure you
in fact i would do so with my utmost might

whenever i am invited that is . . .

will you just please
try not to turn

my humbled joy and happiness
into a nonsense plight

© hülya n. yılmaz, 12.6.2017

 

2 Comments

Filed under Poetry, Reflections

. . .

curses to that sea
she is idyllic
oh yes
but ever so merciless

why do lullabies not rise instead
for angel-breaths like Aylan Kurdi
who had a mere three-year-span
to be loved in tenderness . . .

~ ~ ~

From “hülya’s Poetic Impulses of Candor” in my newest book of poetry: Aflame. Memoirs in Verse. Inner Child Press Ltd. (August 2, 2017); available at inner child press
Also available at inner child press are the following:
An Aegean Breeze of Peace, a book of poetry that I have co-authored with
Demetrios Trifiatis (October 12, 2015), and
Trance (December 12, 2013) ~ My trilingual poetry book with my own translations between English, German and Turkish

2 Comments

Filed under Impulses, Poetry

“unscarred! but who?” – On Atrocities…A Poetic Reflection at the Doorstep of Rahovecit, Kosova

My heartfelt thanks are once again on their way to you, dear scholar poet Fahredin Shehu, to you, dear writer professor Besa Hoxha Bekiri and to everyone involved in, worked at and sponsored the spectacular celebration of world poetry at your continuously successful Kosovo International Poetry Festival of 2017 ~

IMG_3821

 

IMG_3827

 

IMG_3822

Selected photographs at/around the White Drin Waterfall and the Bridge
in Kosova, near Rahovec/Rahovecit
Photo Credit: Self

 

unscarred! but who?

a canvas of nature-made splendor
as far ahead as our challenged irises might take in
a recent enough history of unspeakable human-to-human atrocities
as far back as our pre-conditioned pulmonary artery opts to pump humanity into us

as had i had nothing to do with it
as had i also had not kept my silence . . .

the barbarities-witnessed now immaculately erect bridge over Lumi Drini
revealing not one single sign of its blood-scarred blood-soaked beds down below
nor of those who were butchered in the ways beyond my comprehension
conception
imagination
realization
yet anon at my hands’ pleading reach
drawing my blood from deep inside my being’s core

will
could
would
my poetry-celebrating Rahovecit
Kosova in its entirety
ever forgive me?

i seek pardon in your words,
oh you beloved humanist Godhead of all poets Nazım:
“Ben yanmasam, sen yanmasan, biz yanmasak,
Nasıl çıkar karanlıklar aydınlığa…”
‘If I do not burn, if you do not burn, if we do not burn,
How can the darknesses ever arrive at bright days…’ 

while i sip a thirst-for humanity-quenching delight
simply called a bottle of strawberry juice

blood red inside . . .

© hülya n. yılmaz, September 10, 2017

 

 

Related Links:
A Kosovo Chronology.War in Europe
Ethnic Cleansing and Atrocities in Kosovo.War in Europe
Bosnian Serb Milan Lukic burned Muslims alive in houses
Interviews – Three Albanian Victims of Serbian Ethnic Cleansing and Atrocities

 

 

 

4 Comments

Filed under Poetry, Reflections

. . .

babam canbabam güzel babacığım
o komşu apartmanlara destan kahkahan
kulaklarımda taptaze
oysa ki kaç yıl oldu
sana özgü o şaklamayı son kez duyalı

(aramızdaki son seneni saymayı reddediyorum)

ya takunyandan inşa ettiğin
yemek masamız altı
halımız üstü taban-tabana-kulen?
nasıl güldürürdük seni
televizyonu açmaya gider havalarında
gururla ayaklarına taktığın Alman yapımı terliğine
neredeyse halı altından
attığımız saygı sevgi yüklü çelmelerle . . .

June 14, 2017

 

 

Leave a comment

Filed under Impulses, Poetry

. . . (=Impulses) + Weekend Reflections

birth: female
date: irrelevant
place: somewhere

euphorias
aspirations
blossomings
imaginations
commitments
daily duties
obligations
yearnings
cravings
loves

growth chart: within the norm
head circumference: average height male-equal
self-growth: out for starvation

necessary losses!

hey you
female
eat
eat up yourself
fill identity’s void

necessary losses!

cheat
cheat on your self
repeat
rewind
repeat

necessary losses!

conform
you’d better conform
to your relations and your nations
it’s all about
subjugations

necessary losses!

maturity rate: off the charts
biological aging: per nature’s request
self-confidence: enough to value risks

becoming the woman-self: priceless!

© hülya n. yılmaz, 6.1.2017

6 Comments

Filed under Impulses, Poetry, Reflections

. . . and no, I am not talking about a sewer system or running water!

the privilege of worrying over matters of life
too many on Earth haven’t even heard of
let alone
having ever had a turn
at the luxury of taking them for granted

i have been thinking of those
with utmost attention these days
you have probably guessed one or two
or sensed what has possibly been on my mind

believe me you are not in any riddle-like thrall
i just am convinced
convinced strongly indeed
that none of us need a new news feed
about this world we call ours after all

© hülya n. yılmaz, 5.22.2017

3 Comments

Filed under Poetry, Reflections