Tag Archives: love

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 mid-week musing…

1-Sinop.Baz 11 (2016_02_29 05_30_22 UTC)-001

Photo Credit: Self

Date: Summer 2005

Location: Ada, Sinop – Turkey

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…a mid-week musing…

 

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Photo Credit: Self

Date: Summer 2005

Location: Ada, Sinop – Turkey

 

 

 

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BirTanem’e

when you hurt your loved one all the same

what difference does it make

if the intention was conceived in innocence

~ For my daughter, with my apologies of abundance (September 27, 2015)

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…a note to self: if not wise, seek advice…(Week Six)

bodhidharma

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…suffering -considered mental unlike pain that is physical- is a result of the act of “clinging”, I had once read outside of Bodhidharma, an act of ‘resisting’ in the sense of our ability or lack of readiness ‘to flow with life’…I, for one, am yet to experience a ‘transformation’ of “everything” as I haven’t stopped “clinging” – for the fear that I may forget those most momentous memories, sad and happy alike…that I will have to to face head-on all over again the loss of the loved ones to death and to life…as if to cease to live…

“Once you stop clinging and let things be, you’ll be free, even of birth and death. You’ll transform everything.” ~ Bodhidharma

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Love is not a decision…

Thank you for the reminder Laura Lee, my dear Facebook friend! With your Jack Kerouac quote below, that is…

“My fault, my failure, is not in the passions I have, but in my lack of control of them.” ~ Jack Kerouac

  imgres

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…paper boats…

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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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can yanıyor elbette…the hurt is immense, of course…

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[Image Credit: Lover of Sadness]

gecelerin koynuna girerken

özlemine yaralarımı seriyorum

can yandıkça yanıyor

gündüzler ateş pahası…

while i slip to the bosom of the nights

i spread my scars upon the urge i have for you

the soul aches and aches

days are ablaze in their rarity… 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Written and translated to English on 6.26.2015

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