Category Archives: Reflections

“Taking Loved Ones for Granted”

taking loved ones for granted . . .

my beloved said these words this morning
as a response to my unease with my self
about matters pressing hard on my psyche

he was not judging,
only listening through his heart
reason joined in on our soulful exchange

my dis-ease of the self in many of its aspects
had to come out and speak up,
for the dissatisfaction i have been having
with my wholesome embrace of my loved ones
had become severe, so severe that i knew
deep inside something had to change

a serious improvement was long overdue

my love is immense, it has been always,
but not so my actual actions

so, as i am examining my spirit at its core
i am jotting down these random lines
to have my contemplations, reflections,
emotions, thoughts, potentials,
capabilities, abilities and potential for a
higher consciousness chime in anew,
and i realize how much more there is
that i am ready and willing to do,
to say, to feel, to show, to reassure
and to confirm where my love is due

a self-examination of one’s own awareness
about life’s truly-mattering matters
is what i now find myself do

and this realization
arrived at my doorstep
not a moment too soon

(c) hülya n. yılmaz, February 15, 2019

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Lamenting over Zakariya al-Jaber, 6

nasıl kıydılar sana, masum bebek
Şii misin, Sünni misin ne demek
kırık camla boynunu bıçaklamış
iki ayaklı o mahlûk defalarca
o her yanı öpülesi güzel başını
koparmış kim bilir ne kadar süren
yürek kaldırmayan işkencenden sonra
bir de çaresizliğinin vahşeti içinde
akıl almaz bir melek katliamı
yaşayan anneciğinin çığlıkları altında

lânet olsun senin din anlayışına, ey yetişkin mahluk
lanet olsun senin gibi iki ayaklı hayvanlara
lanet olsun taksi kullanabilen
sürüngenden beter
hiç yaşamamış olsa
tibbi bir deneye yararı olabilecek
o ruhtan yoksun lanet olası varlığına

(c) hülya n. yılmaz, 2.11.2019

Bugün Suudi Arabistanda bir taksi şoförü tarafından katledilen 6 yaşındaki minik meleğin anısına

In honor of Zakariya al-Jaber, 6 years old, who was brutally murdered in Saudi Arabia for being a Shiite Muslim. My anguish at this news was so overwhelming that I only could write a few words in my native tongue. May such atrocities never come on to the path of another little angel. Anywhere. In the notoriously inhumane Saudi Arabia, in particular.

“Saudi Arabia: Boy beheaded [. . .]”

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A Renga in Turkish (with English translation)

iyi ki kalem var
kalbimin elinde
sesli mi sesli

sevgim susardı yoksa
suni mesafelerde

anlatamazdı özüm
fani benliğimi hiç

(c) hülya n. yılmaz, 24 Ocak, 2019

(In English translation, not in the Renga form)

a blessing it is
that my heart’s pen is voiced
my love otherwise would have to remain
without a sound
in our forced distancing

it would be incapable of
speaking for my mortal self

(c) hülya n. yılmaz, January 24, 2019

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An Attempt at a Renga-Poem

The following information on the poetic form Renga stems from poets.org (the underlined parts are my own doing because of my intent to invite you, dear reader to consider giving this tradition a chance in the “Comments” section of this post):

“Renga, meaning ‘linked poem,’ began over seven hundred years ago in Japan to encourage the collaborative composition of poems. Poets worked in pairs or small groups, taking turns composing the alternating three-line and two-line stanzas. [. . .] To create a renga, one poet writes the first stanza, which is three lines long with a total of seventeen syllables. The next poet adds the second stanza, a couplet with seven syllables per line. The third stanza repeats the structure of the first and the fourth repeats the second, alternating in this pattern until the poem’s end. [. . .] Thematic elements of renga are perhaps most crucial to the poem’s success. The language is often pastoral, incorporating words and images associated with seasons, nature, and love. In order for the poem to achieve its trajectory, each poet writes a new stanza that leaps from only the stanza preceding it. This leap advances both the thematic movement as well as maintaining the linking component.”

And here comes my attempt at a Renga-poem:

leaves began to rain from the sky
the Sun cried its rays
clouds yelled their blues

© hülya n. yılmaz, January 1, 2019

 

 

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“my ABCs”

my ABCs

one morning, as i found out
i had learned my ABCs
from A to V, that is
Venezuela
Argentina
Colombia
Suriname
Paraguay
Uruguay
Ecuador
Guyana
Bolivia
Brazil
Chile
Peru

yes, oh yes!
i now know my ABCs
but only in South America . . .

Asia? Europe? Africa?
Australia? Antarctica? North America?

not as of yet . . .

© hülya n. yılmaz, December 31, 2018

~ ~ ~ ~ ~
This poem is one of the three I have submitted for the February 2019 issue of The Year of the Poet VI, published by Inner Child Press International.

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“indigenous”

indigenous

are we not all?
indigenous, that is?

at some point or another
our host country has feasted itself
with our native tongue, customs
traditions – our native everything
but then, our origins’ uniqueness began to melt
into our new home’s sphere
we were in no despair
we were devoted
and quested
to make it
here

our religion began to change
as did our original language
our ways of life altered themselves
we also had much baggage
from our long-gone past
we needed to adapt fast

did i say “indigenous”?
are we not all?

© hülya n. yılmaz, December 31, 2018

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This poem will be published by Inner Child Press International in the February 2019 issue of The Year of the Poet VI.

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“Mesoamerica”

Mesoamerica

an area spanning from central Mexico
to Honduras and Nicaragua
encompassing diverse
civilizations of the
pre-Columbian era

what did those cultural entities do
is what i wonder about when i read
generic definitions as the one above
what were the landmarks of distinction
of this region’s “flourished” civilizations?

like we, they too were no doubt divided by language
religion, social class, economics and politics
how did they cope with those divides
is to me the must-be-asked question
did they ever quest for peace?

do we, in full reality, quest for peace?
if so, why then do we not have it yet?
what can i alone, we together, strive
to achieve a stronghold on that too
slippery road of our differences?

their faith was in multitudes
as were their tongues
not any different,
the rest of their
construct

we are looking at ourselves
in the same inexorable mirror
and do not see what we actually are:
bones, joints, flesh, hair and organs inside
all of which we all will have left for the other side . . .

© hülya n. yılmaz, December 30, 2018

~ ~ ~ ~ ~
This poem will be published by Inner Child Press International in the February 2019 issue of The Year of the Poet VI.

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