Tag Archives: memories

“Mazinin Kalbi Hala Atıyor”

Mazinin Kalbi Hala Atıyor

Ah benim iç acılarım!
Ah benim bir sürü yüreği sızlatan adımlarım!
Neden bu kadar gecikmeli geldiniz kapıma?
Nasıl oldu da bunca zaman
yoklamadınız beni, girerek vicdanıma?

(c) hülya n. yılmaz, 24 Ekim 2019

 

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“pictures”

i have been lulling my soul
to a sleep these days

i cannot decide
if my photo gallery
is a friend or a foe anymore
i memorize them time and time again

each picture ages you, Toruncanlarım,
so fast that i ache deep inside
for missing out on your heavenly smiles,
your whole-body “Grandma!” shouts,
your precious little feet, hurrying
to take my heart out in its yearning,
on its joy-dance with you two once more
amid your purity-scented hugs and kisses
and out-of-this-world sunshine-smiles

i have been lulling my soul
to a sleep these days
that i may wake up
to our olden times
and rejoice

(c) hülya n. yılmaz, April 10, 2019

POSTED.FBTimelinePhoto

[Photo Credit: My Daughter; Date: December 2013, right after my grandson’s birth. In this picture, he is resting on my shoulder . . . cut out of my respect for their privacy. As for my granddaughter, her birth happened so suddenly that I lack any pictures with her at the similarly early stages of her life. My poem is for and to both of them.]

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. . .

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[Photo Credit: Erol Erguen; Location: Celle, Germany]
In memory of Dr. Mahmut O. Erguen (1932-2015), my oldest maternal uncle who loved me unconditionally

the boat on the Nile
had a passerby aside
if only you came

© hülya n. yılmaz, 10.13.2018

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. . .

Our place of accommodations

[Photo Credit: Self; Venice, Italy ~ Summer of 2006]

would you like my child
for us to go back in time
and sail through trials

© hülya n. yılmaz, 10.13.2018

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“no longer the same one”

please do not tell me anymore
how to cross my sitting legs in a skirt
to hide well under my pants the private fabric 
in what age-order to serve guests our coffee
what to do with the crumbs on the dining table
(no hand swipes on to my palms!)
not to laugh heartily in public
to wait for my turn in speaking up anywhere
. . .

my instincts had no trouble
accommodating the required obvious
catering to the needs and wants
other than my own
while i knew deep inside
that you all 
meant well
carrying me through life with your love

i am of old age now
and i have had enough

still conflicting no harm to anyone
holding not even an ounce of ill will
in any of my body’s cells
or inside the pure chambers of my heart
i am forevermore
as gentle as ever before
toward those 
who had no business in mine
or continue to think they have the right

i have had my bountiful share
of personal sacrifices

for self-prolonging decades
and then some more beyond
. . .

i am of old age now

and i have had enough

please do not judge me anymore
for actions that i have not undertaken
nor for the spirit-lifting deeds 
i was (and will always be)
happy to carry out

without inhibitions
with no hesitancy
through
with
and in love
love for one
love for all

a few chunks of real life
are awaiting me
as these days i find
in sweetest delight

i will not cease
to care about you
nor to eternally treasure you
in fact i would do so with my utmost might

whenever i am invited that is . . .

will you just please
try not to turn

my humbled joy and happiness
into a nonsense plight

© hülya n. yılmaz, 12.6.2017

 

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“Kazaçok”, we called it…

thinking of mom again
my routinely composed beloved

she is too beautiful not to be so
my in-love dad would say…
a no harm-intended frame of mind
the most vicious version of it though
has been ruling over women
in a tragically fallen Turkey today

dancing the Kozachok
on the beach-road of Erdek late one night

my brother
back in the bungalow
deep asleep

i on the other hand
back then an utterly free essence
in eager applauses
too big for my yet-to-grow hands
exalting to my heart’s content
the no-curfew-months of all summers
ever so ecstatic of my standing ovation

the sea

ahhh

the back-then spectacular sea

with all of her well-aged
head over the heel for her-trees intact
was too admiring mom’s graceful frame
keeping the slightest breeze
in a grip ever so tight
with not even one ripple in sight
lest mom’s step would miss

not even one ripple in sight?

oh this is nothing!
i surely did exaggerate
adorably manipulate
reality a little bit
way back when

mom seemed to me
as if she was caught inside a trawl
willingly laughingly uninhibitedly
living only by being

i cannot remember another moment
when she had let herself just be…

© hülya n. yılmaz, 3.14.2017

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. . .

once in your absentia long time ago
i was let in on your sigh-rich utterance mom
from decades past
of your post-delivery moments
how your whispery voice
hovered over my first breaths

oh my unfortunate girl…

why

i will never learn

© hülya n. yılmaz, 3.14.2017

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