Tag Archives: loss

“a heart’s burial”

it wasn’t meant to be
that much i do know
your print on my soul
will not reason though

atop the shards of my shell . . .

one may conclude i do move on
while without cease i continue to quest
for my long forgotten unrecognizable self
which only with you was always at its best

with no sign of relent
my trapped-in you-heart is set
on repeat rewind
rewind repeat . . .

outside my four chambers
i keep waiting for that evasive day
when i may feel warmth again
to succeed in putting it to its final rest

© hülya n. yılmaz, 8.20.2016

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In my facelifted writing corner

hqdefault[Click for Image Credit]

 

missing you
not because of a need
or for a want

the yearning is different from before
neither acute nor painful only aware
that the mirage of you has its pillar no more 

these days
fairy tales
fail to impress me

still
i go on missing you
the version i was convinced i knew

in blunt terms

time hasn’t healed anything
though promised by many it would do so

how can it i now dare to ask
it lacks the essence of life after all
your new versions transpire as proof 

besides

who decided to soak heart-wrenching losses
in colors other than red anyway

 

© hülya n. yılmaz, 8.20.2016

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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…paper boats…

paper_boat_by_eckhartmc-d2scr1c

[Click for Photo/Image Credit]

Perhaps, you know the feeling: a moment in which a sad memory is triggered yet once again but meets a bitter-sweet attempt at a relief in the heart no matter how faint its plea…without you having realized a change in you toward emotional survival. For you are just too tired of the agony that has been bleeding out of the core of your being, dragging your original self to the open seas, trying in desperation to no longer hope against the apparent outcome…

i had never learned

how to sail a paper boat

in nature’s moving water

when i was little

throughout my adult life then

i suffered despondent beyond despair

clinging to my passions fervent dreams visions

begging the river around me to flow at my tending will

i the desperate fool for love am yet to set sail

to dissolve into the current of the sea

for i have been told about the harmony within each ripple

how it promises to ease what pains me to feel…

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

8.23.2015

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If Hemingway said so…

Before using superlatives when intangible matters are involved, I tend to be cautious for one simple reason: what is “most” this or that for one person is not to be assumed to have the same impact on another. When emotions are of focus, such judgment becomes even a far more slippery attempt. As for the sentiment Ernest Hemingway articulates in his short story collection, Men Without Women as in the following lines, it has found its home in my soul with no feasible argument by my logic whatsoever:

The most painful thing is losing yourself in the process of loving someone too much, and forgetting that you are special too.

At least one question then remains: who decides whether the loss is reversible?

falling-leaf

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…I am sorry…

[Image Credit:

[Image Credit: “sad and simple”

Long ago, I read an article on “things” some of us find difficult to express when we communicate with others. Three of those simple words work as my post’s title today. At times, even an exceptionally loved one may withhold these few letters what to us mean comfort at moments of despair, like a reassuring whisper to re-pump the drying heart. Perhaps, articulating these love-filled sounds equates to that beloved a forced confession of feelings of guilt, fault, blame or acceptance of an unwanted judgment. If only it weren’t for one fact: when there is love, there is no need for defense. For, there can be no intended offense.

I have no further deliberations on the subject – at least nothing I find worthy enough as far as a personal thought in prose to share with you here. Instead, I have jotted down some reflective lines in the form of a hopeful poem:

the fragile soul had never been undressed this way

nor can it ever again

for it has decided to be a once-only lover

it should have known not to attempt a fatal risk

still it hasn’t regretted being so bare

before the one for whom it had stripped itself

of hopes expectations

guilt blame fault

judgments

the innermost turbulence yet trashed it apart

with as violent a tearing from its core as can be

into a blindness of the temporary kind

the ego blamed guilted the other

dared to hope and to expect 

not even massive masses of tears sufficed

to revive it from its raging death

from the beloved then it borrowed a new breath

stillness of the soul thus was demanded to prevail…

on its torturous path of an onus yet

it now opts in vain to regain courage

toward an ajar if not an open gate

for peace and salvation per the latest request:

not expecting

nor blaming

not faulting

nor guilting

not hoping

nor judging 

just being dead

as needed by all

but the dying soul itself

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

8.3.2015

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Toward a book project, “letter-poems to the beloved” – Week Four

…semester’s last week is now over…final essays and assignments, assessment and grading steps are still at my door, awaiting attention…therefore, I am leaving you with yet another poem of mine in lieu of my customary Sunday reflections and look forward in much anticipation to our next meeting. May this day and next week  bring you wonders you will experience with childlike curiosity-filled eyes.

 

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Photography Credit: Romeo Koitmae

 

no ether

 

does the record date back to the early eleventh century?

you would know, my love, we also shared our profession:

they would seize the patient in a prolonged procession

to the bloody altar slowly they would lower him down

in the agony of his existing pain he would partially drown

with a swift gash, his appendix, liver or one of the intestines

would reappear before everyone’s eyes in its carnage glory

 

can you see now, my beloved, how it had felt

not from your’s – the intact one…

but since my alive autopsied end?

 

© hülya n yılmaz – March 27, 2014

From the “letter-poems to the beloved” collection

 

 

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Toward a book project, “letter-poems to the beloved” – Week Three

…thank you for bearing with me the last two times and for the next two more times…while I only offer you my poems…I hope to return to my usual style of reflections, once my semester ends…just around the corner…As always before, I very much look forward to your next visit. May you have a laughter-filled Sunday and an identical new week.

 

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Photography Credit: Serhat Demiroğlu

 

still playing

 

i was to be removed

not for lack of love or means

for fear of that dreadful disease

 

had since my share of ravened joys macaw-donned ills

sets of chains of shackled years eternalized my fasting

trite servings heaped on my plate with no shame

a honeyed blessing it was that you came

 

dabbed from my mind any fear of intimacy

flavored each morsel on my tray to utmost ecstasy

kneaded for me passionate love into life’s bleak reality

 

just when

my lungs closed up to solely heed your affectionate breath

the scarlet chamber learned to refuse a beat without yours…

 

the moment came that made you leave me

 

i was to be removed

am now orphaned by a cruel bliss

patiently await the end to grant me its fawning kiss

 

© hülya n yılmaz – March 26, 2014

From the “letter-poems to the beloved” collection

 

 

 

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Toward a book project, “letter-poems to the beloved” – Week Two

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 Image Credit: ideami.com

 

after

 

have you ever eaten *helva, my love

to the sizzle of the slowly melting butter

anxious in its wait to savor each flake of sugar

the scent of the browning flour in your breath

milk drops rapt in a dance of the delicate blend

yearning for the ultimate sweet feast?

 

have you ever eaten helva, my love

when sugar though was no longer to be found?

 

© hülya n yılmaz – March 26, 2014

From the “letter-poems to the beloved” collection

 [*With “helva,” I refer here to the Turkish dessert, “un helvası” (flour halwa).]

 

 

 

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Toward a book project, “letter-poems to the beloved” – Week One

Good Sunday, dear reader!

You know my predicament: I am passionate about writing but I also love teaching. Beyond loving my decades-long professional commitment, I am having to allocate most of my time to its demands. The new semester is coming to a fast end but in an immensely time-consuming manner. I find it more and more difficult in this final month to reserve their deserved time aside for my Sunday reflections – to do any qualitative research on some issues of larger interest to us all, that is. I hope you won’t mind terribly, if I were to share with you one of my new poems for the end of each of the next few weeks. What I would very much appreciate from you is, any few minutes you may be able to set aside to comment on each poetic construct. If that were to be too much to ask, then, perhaps you would be willing to suggest a title for a larger writing project I have in mind in which to collect all these poems. In case you have an active account on facebook, some of them will appear familiar to you, as I have posted them on my page and/or timeline on that platform. What I have conceived so far for the project in question is in line with my core existential determinant – as I articulated it in my debut book:

“Love and melancholy. Two traits that defined me throughout my life thus far. Not very different from Oğuz Ozdeş’ Hülya – the young woman whose tragic love captivated my mother to the extent that she adopted her name for me. As I have said before, I have a commitment to love. When it comes to melancholy, I am considering a healing interaction with it – an initiative I have already prompted with my poems for Trance. I do intend to accomplish a continued healing, though. To begin to achieve such endeavor, I may have to write a different ending to Hülya but to hülya as well. And, I believe I will (from: Preface, Trance, a collection of poems in English, German and Turkish).”

I very much look forward to your comment and your next visit. May the rest of your day and new week be filled with joyous events and interactions.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

do you think back

to remember it all

how i lain on the mossy ground

blanketed myself with your scent

the quiet creek of our first encounter

encircling the rays of an afternoon sun

how it slowed its path to honor our euphoric reunion

to watch us flow into one another – learned and approved…

wind and air however envied pulled their forces together

thus came an end in a lightning – fiercely brash

 

my graceful i kept at bay its dire hope to let you float

what ifs of our dread are adamant in haunting me yet

would i have now been immersed by you instead

had i not defied the boulder at the barricade…

 

i was meant to love you

and i still do

 

© hülya n yılmaz – March 14, 2014

 

POSTED.image for meant to love you

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“Eşkiya” and an afterthought

 

The scene shown above is claimed to be the most critical representation of the film “Eşkiya,” a groundbreaking contribution to contemporary Turkish cinema.The plot summaries in English of my finding don’t dwell on what this excerpt reveals with succinct emphasis; namely, the Leitmotif that holds this artistic production together: the story of Baran and Keje.  It is a tale of love extending beyond the scopes of life and death, resonating the legendary loves in Turkish literature.  Such as that between Ferhat and Şirin (12th century), Leyla and Mecnun (16th century), Kerem and Aslı (16th century), and others.

Keje buries herself in silence and inaction when the man who betrayed Baran to unjust imprisonment becomes her husband after he buys her from her father. Thirty-five years later, Baran is free again.  His untiring search for his love embodies his only livelihood.

The storyline assumes numerous complications through unrelated events to create in Baran once again an innocent bystander of crimes he did not commit.  Alongside, Baran confronts at last his worst enemy.  In Keje’s presence.  Her silence – her way of mourning for the loss of her love to life, will cease only then – she has Baran understand – if she were to witness a falling star.  A symbol to her of a tortured soul attaining ultimate freedom – for both lovers…

While I can’t remember how far back in the past, I know exactly how I used to think about the phenomenon of love and its loss: a distinctive flair of melancholy lurked only over the people of Turkey – as with today’s few quick examples.  But then, I discovered famous names of non-Turkish roots with the same approach to this utterly uplifting, at the same time soul shattering reality of life.  And here I am, sharing some of my related deliberations with you in the form of a poem I have written recently:

when love is everything

among long-time friends once again

enduring the familiar left-side pain

decades surpassed their centuries

the hurt remains the same

an Immortal Beloved crafted life

birthed death ever so keen

a blazing desire in-between

oh geh mit, geh mit

oh accompany me, accompany me

Hebuterne embraced the call

Plath followed it with ease

Claudel suffered a living disease

King Edward VIII stunned the monarchy

etched to memory for lives to come:

the essence negates all that is told

nourishes from the authentic self;

sates and attains for evermore,

absolute ecstasy at the core.

For love is everything.

hülya yılmaz (October 3, 2013)

Have you ever grieved in deep sorrow for losing love but led yourself to conclude you had no right to mourn in the open because your loss was not one to death?

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