A HAIKU

utter destruction
many sleepers take a side
the heart must decide

(c) hülya n. yılmaz, October 12, 2019

 

 

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“Cezve”

Bir cezve
Biraz kahve ve su
Bir kare çikolata
Şeker yerine

Birkaç yudum akabinde
Eser kalmaz o tattan

Anılar oysa ki öyle mi . . .
Her bir fincanda yüzlercesi

(c) hülya n. yılmaz, 16 Ağustos, 2019

 

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[Free online image]

 

One cezve*
A bit of coffee and water
One piece of chocolate
A sugar substitute

The taste? Gone!
After a few sips

As for the memories . . .
Hundreds, in one single cup

English translation: (c) hülya n. yılmaz, October 5, 2019

*Turkish coffee pot

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“The Igbu Landing

The Igbu Landing

Denial came as it still tends to do.
“It’s only a legend”, shouted the well-to-do.
In his time or now, he was no legend however,
Roswell King, the white overseer.
His ink had mastered a horrifying account;
Not far away, but from a plantation nearby.
Pierce Butler was the name of the God-forsaken place
Where the white overseer once again put history to shame.
Those died in mass suicide were given not one single name.

© hülya n. yılmaz, March 15, 2019

This poem has been published by Inner Child Press International in the April 2019 issue of The Year of the Poet VI.

* An excerpt from the source, Igbo Landing Mass Suicide: “While many historians for centuries have cast doubt on the Igbo Landing mass suicide, suggesting that the entire incident was more legend than fact, the accounts Roswell King and others provided at the time were verified by post-1980 research which used modern scientific techniques to reconstruct the episode and confirm the factual basis of the longstanding oral accounts.

In September 2002, the St. Simons African American community organized a two-day commemoration with events related to Igbo history and a procession to the site of the mass suicide. Seventy-five attendees came from different states across the United States, as well Nigeria, Brazil, and Haiti. The attendees designated the site as a holy ground and called for the souls to be permanently at rest. The Igbo Landing is now part of the curriculum for coastal Georgia schools.”

 

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“A Dead-End”

trapped inside the head
within the regrets from the past
and the dire worries about the future
lamenting over the unknown now
missing out on the gifts of the present
fearing to take a step ahead
trapped inside the head

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

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“Early Morning”

The silence of the new day called my name.
To hear it is a fierce struggle.
Indoors and outdoors,
the so-called modern world
is up already.

Shame is on me.
What a shame!

Hearing the noise of my mind anew,
while nature spreads its grace before me
on a table of gently rustling tree branches,
scurrying little critters – no birds in sight yet.
I miss them so!

I wanted to listen to my breath.
I craved to hear my heartbeat,
like that of a newborn
to cleanse my soul from all the ills
humanity has crafted for itself for too long.

Oh, I do long,
long for the calm, the quiet
so much so that I feel much unease
at the sound of my thoughts, my worries.

A new dawn will break tomorrow,
and I shall free the self from sorrow,
for a brand new day will shine upon our earth
when we all pitch in for the globe’s renewed birth.

I will then listen to my breath.
I will then hear my heartbeat,
like that of a newborn
to cleanse my soul from all the now-ancient ills
humanity has crafted for itself for too long.

(c) hülya n. yılmaz, September 8, 2019

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A HAIKU in Turkish and English

gene geldin sen
içim ağırdan sızlar
yetemedim ki

you are here again
my soul weighs heavy anew
i did not suffice

(c) hülya n. yılmaz, 6 Eylül / September 6, 2019

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A Turkish Proverb

For my homeland, an upcoming book of poetry and prose, I have been envisioning to add Turkish proverbs and their application in life within the cultural context of my country of birth. So, here I am, sharing one that attracted my interest last night.

“Before you love, learn to run through snow without leaving footprints.”

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