Tag Archives: Inner Child Press Ltd. (ICP)

“like an eagle”

İstanbul dons a large number of majestic forts
those structures from many an ancient history
may today not appear as powerful anymore
but the debris alone suffice to astound
the willing eye through a peek
at the haunting view of the mighty Bosphorus
together with the influential breaths
that numerous civilizations of the past
have generously left in its depths

i have not been there in a long while
only in an empirical sense that is
frequent visits of my fertile imagination
have otherwise sated my hunger and thirst
my longing for the dead who were left behind
and my cravings for the impeccable times
each of which was re-lived in harmony
amid a painstakingly caring love

i borrowed an eagle’s eye on this special day
perched atop one of the bastions and began to sway

palaces teahouses trolleys Bazaars cafés fishermen
rare carpet, Kilim and antiquities-selling ambitious shops
yachts one of a kind-mosques the famed Dolmabahçe Sarai
freighters speed boats Hovercrafts scenic jogging paths
do not interest me in the least. The eagle’s eye is a loan
of refined delicacy. I refuse to waste it for the mundane . . .

on the bottom of the Bosphorus all of a sudden
underneath a recent undercurrent, oh so sullen!
amid seagrass . . .

. . . i spot my brass keychain
of four distinctive keys
my elephant still carries on,
towing them heroically
its movable pretty trunk
waves at me ecstatically

i lead us all . . .

. . . to the astonishing Sinopian coasts
to my breathtakingly serene flat-sanctuary

i discover to my demise . . .
. . . it is no longer there

only then do i recall my dream of this year
on the night of the 2nd month’s 14th

and

my loaner eye weeps

~ ~ ~

From my newest book of poetry: Aflame. Memoirs in Verse. Inner Child Press Ltd. (August 2, 2017)
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

 

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. . .

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

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“picnic on a rainbow”

Last week, I had shared with you a poem I was considering to submit as one of my three contributions to The Year of the Poet – a monthly anthology of international sustenance published by Inner Child Press, Ltd. (and thanks to the encouragement I received from you, I have sent my “afloat” to its destination). You are invited to my “picnic on a rainbow” today, the second of the three poems I have submitted this month to address the theme of summer. Imagine what you will get to see next Sunday . . .

the new day is breaking
sleepily it seeps through my bedroom window
then stretches on my bed rests on by my side
i brew tea
dried rosehip
(my no-longer-a secret-addiction)
and inhale both aromas
taking my time
my companion is in no hurry either

then i spot a snowflake
it travels in through the screen
begins to tap dance
on the tip of my nose
its pals end up on the tip of my tongue

they feel the same as before

long before i had orphaned the i in me

how i would insist on keeping them
from melting inside my mouth
so i could taste their delicate crystals

my favorite season was not winter back then
long ago though it has won me over

but summer arrived anew
again
it always does

the more the merrier
folklore dictates me to say . . .

alright then i reply
after all progressive holiday parties are hip
and under our noses often enough
why not throw one for the seasons and me

bury your hatchets everyone
we’ll all have a picnic on a rainbow
the new day is also coming along

i’ll bring my collection of snowflakes
one of you will gather the autumn leaves
the other one will be responsible to bring in grass
nothing but freshly-cut

what a lovely blanket they would all make

after we eat drink and dance
we’ll tell funny stories of yore
then we’ll ride on a sleigh of beach
and out of fright the tidal waves will screech

© hülya  n. yılmaz, 6.17.2016

rainbow-wallpaper-1[1]

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“afloat”

atop the gentle ripples
of today’s calm Black Sea
on the edge of that picturesque town
of my insatiable yearning

my face kisses the burnt-orange sun
a push-over wave pats me on my shoulders
(our new neighbor must be on the go
with his sailboat again)

i shoo away my childhood fear of jelly fish
in their territory am i now after all
the largest ones i ever saw
live
right here i believe
always bloating over
the small skinny hands of the same little boys
(or so i still trick myself to think)
beach-combing free-spirits
tossing those pulsating bells back and forth
their version of
volleyball
they are overly active now
it looks like the entire medusa population
gathered around the lads
i’m safe i’m safe yes i am . . .

no
oh no
it
can’t be . . .

don’t you whirl around my feet

what are you doing under my lilo

eek
double eek
triple eek

. . .

moooom!

mooooooooom!

© hülya  n. yılmaz, 6.18.2016

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
While my decision is not yet firm, I may submit this poem as one of my three contributions to  The Year of the Poet, a monthly anthology of international dynamics, published by Inner Child Press, Ltd.   

the-girl-at-jellyfish-lake-by13277[1]

 

 

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Ageism

excessive now?

 

did one of them hit you in the heart again

do they already find you unnecessary

your shaky voice won’t let me be

 

with that beloved’s passing

last march had brought me my first regret

 

of having potted my roots here

 

my second followed today

 

when you almost apologized

for having lived this long

honoring your four siblings who died before you

adding how your youngest the only sister

still breathes together with her many grandchildren

whose longevity you then wished upon me

a faint hope for the women in our family

 

in all your ninety years

you grew up very little dad

loving but a self-centered man

high-maintenance

as the modern label goes

why did you have to catch up with it all

in one day

today

on the phone

 

i am not like them at all that you know

is that why you reassured me over and over

how well you are doing on your own all alone . . .

 

thirty years younger but i am unwell too many times

 

i also grew very little dad

loving but a self-centered one

perhaps not as high-maintenance

nonetheless a daughter of your essence

 

since the time our pillar collapsed

then much more recently

when you two fell apart

you have shifted to a deepness

 

he won’t come back he cannot

she however may return soon

it hasn’t been that long yet

 

why though are you in such hurry

with no fair warning in advance

but plenty of subtle goodbyes to me

 

are you telling yourself what i used to hear you say

“aloneness is reserved only for God”

please don’t you also rush while i’m so far away 

 

i agonize over your loneliness

how it befell upon you this late in life

did you really not hear me well when i asked . . .

 

they are merely a few blocks from you

yet choose not to be there

and you already stopped forgiving yourself

while you grant them forgiveness in abundance  

 

i just wish so very desperately

you wouldn’t have to hurt this much

that you could cease to grow up at once

 

and to forgive me for everything i couldn’t be for you

 

would you possibly throw in a sixty-year-long hug or two

© hülya n. yılmaz, 2.12.2016

≈ ≈ ≈

Like last week’s poem, also this one appeared as one of my three poetry contributions for the March 2016 issue of The Year of the Poet III, a monthly international anthology published by Inner Child Press, Ltd. and consists of poems by eighteen writers, with between two and three featured new poets each month.

 

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Before love, even death bows down

do you

fear death

i still do

that of my loved ones that is

 

when the heartbreak is too much to surpass

my memory box takes me by surprise

 

and i realize . . .

how even death bows down before love

 

© hülya n. yılmaz, 2.12.2016

≈ ≈ ≈

This poem appeared as one of my three poetry contributions for the March 2016 issue of The Year of the Poet III, a monthly international anthology published by Inner Child Press, Ltd. and consists of poems by eighteen writers, with between two and three featured new poets each month.

 

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A Trio of Landai

*smile, It Is 2010 and Spring

May the forked tongue bind their bloody hands,

And the womb birthing you all char them in their own fire.

                               § § §

O You, Honorable Grandfather-Husband!

You think a prayer cleanses your sins.

My cradle, barren yet long after your manhood burst!

                                § § §

Mama, Did You Turn Into Stone?

Why did you rip me off of your breasts?

Under his atrocious soil is where I now must rest.

© hülya n. yılmaz, 3.12.2016

≈ ≈ ≈

*The first folk couplet – a Landay (defining also a short poisonous snake in Pashto), is a tribute to a teenage Afghani poet who died soon after setting herself on fire in protest of her severe beatings by her brothers. Her crimes? To fall in love, to seek education through other women’s poetry, to write her own poems and to read them on a hotline for girls. Mirman Baheer, a women’s literary group that, in addition to offering other services for Afghanistan’s female population, ran the radio program. This young frequent caller whose poetic word was of promising extent was much adored. The news of her burning would reach her circle in the spring of 2010 from a hospital through a phone call by the teenager herself. Her on-air persona was Rahila Muskasmile in Pashto.

This Landai Trio appeared as my poetry contribution in the April 2016 issue of The Year of the Poet III, a monthly international anthology published by Inner Child Press, Ltd. and consists of poems by eighteen writers, with between two and three new featured poets each month.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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