Religion, a Personal View as a Poem

religion . . .

a controversial subject
in religious studies,
with scholars failing
to agree on any one definition

the Oxford Dictionary defines it
as “the belief in and worship of
a superhuman that controls power,
especially a personal God or gods.”

“failing”
clarity,
coherence,
cohesiveness . . .
and rationale

‘believing in’ and ‘worshipping’
a controlling “power”,
one that is conceived to be “a superhuman”
“a personal” one, at that . . .

that “belief”,
energy spent on ‘worshipping’,
does, as evidenced time and again,
permit humans to destroy human lives
in unspeakably barbaric ways and means,
while justifying their senseless brutality

not believing in humans,
but rather ‘worshipping’ “a superhuman”,
“a personal” one, at that,
which allows massive mass-murders

the innocent, the bystander,
children not excluded . . .

not believing in humans,
but rather ‘worshipping’ “a superhuman”,
“a personal” one, at that,
which yields to continous fatal attacks
with the intent to eradicate humans
without remorse,

the innocent, the bystander,
children not excluded . . .

where do we, ordinary humans, ‘fail’?
wherein lie our “super” traits?
in killing one another?
in the name of an utterly vague
conceptualization of a “belief”,
of an urge to “worship”?

a phenomenon
we all have been conditioned with;
a phenomenon
for which a single definition
evades us repeatedly,
while it rips us all apart violently,
psychologically,
emotionally,
mentally,
physically

seeking a ‘personal’ “superhuman”
to “believe in” and to “worship”,
seeking one or more of it to feel entitled
to destroy unconditionally
the very same human on whose shoulders
that ‘personal’ “superhuman”
is bound to stand . . .

“failing”
clarity,
coherence,
cohesiveness . . .
and rationale

religion

(c) hülya n. yılmaz, May 31, 2019

Din hakkındaki bu şiirimi kısa bir süre içerisinde Türkçe’ye çevirmiş olmayı umuyorum.

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A Contemplation

I am contemplating . . . to have regular write-ups on my blog site in the near future. This post is only an invite as to what my dear friends and family consider to be a vital aspect in an intimate relationship. A thought from me on this matter: Sensitivity toward the partner’s concern about a previously visited irritating issue along with a resolution offer in a caring and keenly attentive manner in order for the trust factor to continue to remain untainted are a must. In sum: placing a cork on the partner’s bottle – full or half full – while s/he is still digesting the content/s will not relieve the tension as needed.

Note: Please do not conclude that this writing stems from a personal experience. I was reading an article on relationships, and thus was prompted to voice it. I am an analytical person. As one such, I prefer to bring important points to my own table to gain further insight.

Türkçe’ye Çeviri/In Turkish:

Buraya yakın bir gelecekte düzenli yazım eklemek düşüncesindeyim. Bugün yazdıklarım sadece siz, sevgili ailem ve arkadaşlarımı bir özel ilişki çerçevesinde neyi mutlak gördüğünüzü/bulduğunuzu benimle paylaşmak için size bir davet. Bu konuda bir görüşüm: İlişkideki kişilerden her birinin geçmişte üzerinde beraberce konuşulmuş tatsız (söz konusu olan tarafı rahatsız eden) bir konuda ciddiyetli bir dikkat, ilgi ve hassasiyet ile yaklaşmasının önemi yönünde. Özetle: Söz konusu olan taraf hala şişesinden içtiğini hazmetmeye çalışırken diğerinin o (tam ya da yarı dolu) şişeyi tıpayla kapatması soruna tek bir çözüm getirmez.

Not: Lütfen, bu yazımı kendi başımdan geçen bir durum üzerine dile döktüğüm sonucuna varmayın. Kadın-erkek ilişkileri hakkında bir makale okuyordum ve püf noktalarından bazılarını burada belirtmek istedim. Ben düzenli analiz yaparım. O özelliğimden dolayı da daha derin bir anlayışa varmak için bu tür benim için önemli yazıtları kendi masama taşırım.

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After Another Long Hiatus . . .

The last writing I have shared with you goes back about two months. I am still writing – poems mostly, along with a few analytical texts on the side. I have, however, been keeping the majority of those write-ups to myself. The reason as to why I stayed away from my website lies in the fact that I am ready to embark on an unexplored path here. I would, therefore, appreciate it greatly if you could suggest subject matters, topics, points of concern and/or ideas for reflections, . . . a focus that will allow me to explore in my writings henceforth. I thank you for lending me an ear.

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“because of me”

Dedicated to my OneandOnly (sic), Gizem

You might be smiling right now,
even laughing heartily.
Still, I am reminded of your tears.

Of course, you shed many
because of others.
I could not, cannot
wipe those away.

I have never meant any of them
to come your way
because of me.

At the core of my soul, however,
I will tell you time and again
the truth, my lifeblood,
before my days come to an end:

I beg you
for your forgiveness
for every salty drop
falling from your
clearest-sky-blue eyes
because of me.

I loved you before you were born.
My love for you will be there
beyond eternity.

Annen/Your Mom/Mommy/Mama

hülya n. yılmaz, June 21, 2022

benim yüzümden ~ BirTanem Gizemime

Şu an belki de gülümsüyorsun,
hatta gülüyorsun kahkahayla.
Gene de ben senin
gözyaşlarını hatırlıyorum.

Tabii ki, başkaları yüzünden de
döktün bir çoğunu.
Onları silmem mümkün değil.
Benim yüzümden akıttıklarının ise
hiç biri gerçek olsun istemezdim.

Ruhumun özünden,
can kaynağım Gizemim benim,
günlerimin geri kalanı tükenmeden yani,
sana tekrar tekrar şunu söylemek isterim:

Benim yüzümden
senin o apaçık bir günün gökyüzü-mavisi
gözlerinden akan her bir tuzlu damla için
özür dilerim.

Ben seni
sen henüz doğmadan sevdim.
Bil ki, sana sevgim
ebediyetin ötesinde
hep yanıbaşında olacak.

Annen/Your Mom/Mommy/Mama

hülya n. yılmaz, 21 Haziran, 2022

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Gorillas? Thank You, I’ll Pass!

Gorillas? Thank You, I’ll Pass!

Please, oh please!
Let me never run into one,
Unless he is on TV,
An e-gadget,
Or inside a magazine.
Better yet,
In a menagerie,
Most preferably.

Even his much smaller kind
Is hostile in his squabble.

Oh, yes! We two siblings
Do still remember the battle
On that wet afternoon in 1961.

The entry of a supposed ‘Petting Zoo’
Outside a friendly German town
Is all where it started.

The back of my brother’s raincoat
Had suddenly left for the cage in strips.
The culprit was a seriously little monkey.
It must have waited to test his powerful grip.

I doubt that there were gorillas somewhere nearby.
Would any of us little escapees have wanted to reveal
A private compound for them?
No way!

Even if it were today,
I would shout out:
“Thanks, but no thanks. I’ll just pass
Today, and any other day!”

hülya n. yılmaz, June 6, 2022

This ekphrastic poem is one of the three with which I have contributed to the July 2022 issue of The Year of the Poet, published by Inner Child Press International.

Photo Credit: Max Pixel Mammal Nature Monkey Animal Monkeys Cute Baby
Photo Credit: Max Pixel Ape Baby Gorilla Mountain Gorilla Hand Monkey

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“a concert” ~ A New Poem and Its Turkish Version

a concert

yes, there are cars zooming by,
with a serious disregard of the speed limit
but this place is waking me up
to a precious delight

a concert of birds i am unable to name
that’s okay, as they are after no fame

some come in pairs and perch on the cables
right across from where i live

they sing their unique tunes,
not expecting me to recognize or to applaud
they generously gift me with their presence

hey, one just flew on the concrete
beneath my feet

another one landed before the mailbox
it found some nest supplies on the ground,
picked them up with its tiny beak
and then flew away,
accomplished

not too long ago, i was in their situation,
making a home out of that which was there
i toiled and labored to make it all happen
what was missing with me was a happy song

getting acquainted every morning
with these little avians’ contendedness
is bliss, a gentle reminder of life’s small pleasures,
daily experiences too many are forced to miss

a concert of birds i am unable to name
that’s okay, as they are after no fame

ahh, what a fresh breath of air!

hülya n. yılmaz, June 3rd, 2022

Konser

Arabalar uçarcasına geçiyorlar, evet,
üstelik te hız limitine zerre kadar aldırmadan.
Fakat bu yer beni
pek kıymetli bir tada uyandırıyor,

isimlerini listeleyemeyeceğim
kuşların konserine.
Önemi yok benim bilmeyişimin.
Zira onlar değiller ün peşinde.

Kimisi çift olarak konmuşlar
yaşadığım evin tam karşısındaki tellerin üstüne.
Kendilerine özgü çınılarını ötüyorlar,,
beklemeden benden
ne tanımamı ne de alkış tutmamı.
Cömertçe bana varlıklarını sunuyorlar sadece.

Bak, bak! Bir tanesi ayaklarımın dibindeki
asfalta iniş yaptı!

Bir diğeri de
posta kutusunun önünde durakladı!
Yuvası için malzeme bulmuş da
(kesilmiş çimlerin kurumuş olanları).
Aldı onları minik gagasıyla ve uçtu gitti,
hedefine varmışlığın gururuyla.

Çok olmadı henüz. Ben de onlar gibiydim,
elimde ne varsa onlarla
bir ev kurma çabam içerisinde.
Ben de didindim, ağır çalıştım ki
çıkabilsin ortaya elle tutulur bir yuva.
Ama bende bir eksiklik vardı:
Sevinç içeren bir şarkı.

Her sabah bu minnacık pilotların
tatminkarlıklarını yeniden izlemek
başlı başına bir neşe kaynağı.
Çünkü bu anlar hayatın küçük doyumları,
birçok, hem de pek çok insanın
eline hiç geçemeyen bir olgu.

Isimlerini listeleyemeyeceğim
kuşların konseri.
Önemi yok benim bilmeyişimin.
Zira onlar değiller ün peşinde.

Ah, nasıl da taze bir nefestir bu!

hülya n. yılmaz, 3 Haziran, 2022

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these hands . . ., a poem

these hands

held a handset
for many a traumatic call

these hands

pounded the head
in despair plenty of times

these hands

struggled and still struggle
under the relentless ire of RA
inside a fragile frame,
along with their inseparable companions

these hands

penned elegies
when the soul pained beyond faint sounds

these hands

wiped away tears
that streamed down
onto anything on their path

these hands

caressed a dying mother in her last hours
on her only accessible body part,
her forehead

but

these hands also

touched the rarest of life’s gems
they embraced the magical arrival
of the priceless light of a daughter,
beautiful inside and out,
of her two little precious beauties as well

and

these hands also

touched those of dearest close friends
through countless splendid memories
but during trying times, in particular,
the falling and fallen self being lifted
to its intact version anew

friends far away did not see these hands,
but their caring spirits
warmed up the soul at the core
whenever it was feeling down and cold

friends, never encountered in person –
‘social media acquaintances’ to some,
also knew to lend an ear to the trials and
tribulations of the vessel of these hands

regardless of their confines,
these worn hands tremble now
with the gratitude of their traveler
on her journey from and to life’s offerings

whatever there is to come,
these hands will greet it,
along with their inseparable companions

hülya n. yılmaz, April 23, 2022

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“A Crappy Poem for a Crappy . . .”

a crappy poem for a crappy planet maintenance

lately, i have not written poems
poetry, however, has always been my go-to

i feel crappy inside, and look thus on the outside
negative thoughts have been piling up in me
for too long of a while,
and they spread like fire of the wild

our planet’s state of being leaves me in despair
no care for tomorrow, no care for today
a gigantic dumpster is what we are turning it into
the forests, the valleys, the oceans, the rivers,
all of them get their shabby share

i know, i know
this poem is utterly crappy
but i cannot help writing it for each of us to see
how we supposedly maintain our planet
is being done ever so lousily

what are we leaving for our children,
for our grandchildren,
for our yet-to arrive fellow humans?

a crappy planet

not unlike these crappy lines

an egregious chunk of disarray!

​© hülya n. yılmaz

This poem is one of the three with which I have contributed to the April 2022 issue of The Year of the Poet published by Inner Child Press International.

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hatalarım

kalbimden yana hiç şüphem olmadı
asla bilerek, isteyerek üzmedim kimseyi
gene de işledim hatalar canlarıma karşı,
hem de ciddi mi ciddi
kırdım hak etmeyen pırıl pırıl gönülleri

varmışım artık geç bir yaşın kapısına
ağlıyorum içimden her güneş doğumunda,
sanki nehirler akabilecekmiş gibi
yollarının aksi bir yönüne,
sanki yağmur, kar, dolu yağabilecek
gökyüzüne doğru,
sanki ölenlerim dönecek,
sanki anlatabileceğim onlara
yeniden kendimi,
sanki vurabileceğim sözcüklere
onları hiç bir zaman
incitmek istemediğimi

kalbimden yana hiç şüphem olmadı
ama ya dilim?

hülya n. yılmaz, 10 Nisan, 2022

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“beads”/”boncuklar”

crafting a necklace,
one bead at a time . . .

happy moments,
braided on a taut string

sadness
resentment
anger
fear
blame
guilt
regret
in a box on the side,
lid closed in a tight knot
an inescapable afterthought,
neither marring the thriving self
nor threatening the inner peace

as time passes,
even the most miniscule beads
take on a life of their own,
contentment weighs heavily
atop the ills and tribulations

crafting a necklace,
one bead at a time . . .

happy moments,
braided on a taut string

hülya n. yılmaz, April 7, 2022

~ ~ ~ ~

bir kolye diziyorum,
bir boncuk, bir boncuk daha . . .

mutlu anlar
sağlam bir ipe örülü

hüzün
kızgınlık
korku
suçlama
suç hissi
pişmanlık
bir kutu içinde, yan tarafta,
kapağı gemici düğümüyle mühürlenmiş
kaçınılmaz düşüncelere gebe
ama ne gelişen ben’i zedeleyebiliyor,
ne de iç huzurunu tehdit edebiliyor

zaman ilerledikçe
en ufak boncuk bile can buluyor,
hoşnutluk bütün sıkıntıların, endişelerin üstüne
tüm ağırlığıyla yerleşiyor

bir kolye diziyorum,
bir boncuk, bir boncuk daha . . .

mutlu anlar
sağlam bir ipe örülü

hülya n.  yılmaz, 7 Nisan, 2022

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