Tag Archives: nature

. . .

no petting zoo

it was a strange encounter
a first-timer in my backyard

“my” yard?

not in actuality

for they were here
long before i settled in

without an ounce of humility
and unprepared this time . . .

. . . no fancy camera at hand
nor the skilled clicks of my phone

my eyes were opened wide
so i took the picture of the hawk
in its stately perching-pride
with my enchanted inside

its persistent presence
appeared close to mine
(quite close i’d say)
not in the slightest
was it intimated

and I cannot say
that i was in my brightest
utterly sleepy at best …

the few-feet-long divide
was still a major delight
unlike “my” other little animals
that come and leave
as they ever so please at times
it didn’t run or fly away

at a single wave of my hand
the hawk made a secure seat
out of a branch of a barren tree
right at the border of “my” land
amid many of others
that were dressed in dainty leaves

it then flew off …

close enough to the ground
seemingly showing off to me
what it was (and is) capable of …

i stayed on for a while
too long
for a cold mid-November-day
looking forward to its return
to its to-be-continued servings
of customized discoveries ahead

it did not come back …

it may have been so
for it probably did sense
how much i was taken aback
by its self-introduction of grace


a living being like that
cannot be held in chains
it is after all
(and must thus remain)
as one of the freest avians …

so i turned to my good old
worn-out wind-chime
hanging downward on a hook
i wanted it to create a tune
the wind however
(contently in a deep nap)
simply refused to play along

i looked around
and saw that i had
(right at my fingertips at that)
a symphony of a collective sound …

“my” other wild birds

“my” leaps-happy squirrels

“my” big and small cotton-tails

“my” time-traveler chipmunks

had all gaily gathered
for an in-rehears-able
tap-dance routine
vying for my attention
about to show off once again
their daily acts of loyal affection

© hülya n. yılmaz, 11.14.2017


Filed under Reflections

“the breakwater”

foaming from the mouth
the waves drench the sky
it bows down in respect
drops itself closer

de-powered helpless useless
seeking refuge atop the breakwater
anything human-made then gets its turn…

nature’s offsprings
graceful untethered
are enwrapped
in a dance step
we’ll never learn

a duckling
looks out of place at first
but holds sway with ease
over Lake Erie’s vast space
naturally it will find its own kind
i however just sit here and mope behind

©hülya n. yılmaz, 3.9.2017


Filed under Poetry, Reflections

. . .

less windy today
baby waves attempt their own mighty roar
give the onlookers an eyeful of a tireless show
then gallop in fanciful grown-up pride and hit the shore

©hülya n. yılmaz, 3.9.2017

Inside my car; front line; at the harbor on East Lake Road in Westfield, NY


Filed under Impulses

Silence amid “Severe Weather” alerts

For the last couple of days, I have spent priceless moments with Gulls, ducks, Squalls, euphoric waves of Lake Erie, thick-sand-fly arounds, snow-storm-wannabes, icicle-touch-like misty air, a scalp-biting cold, the indecisive Sun, the Hide-and-Seek-Moon and we-prefer-to stay-dry-stars. Amid a mesmerizing collection of exquisite flavors of human interaction to sate the most selective heart, offered by complete strangers.

None of what I say above is make-believe. I have been on one of my yearly short trips to my most precious destination: Silence. Of the familiar. To better hear what is resonating, unearthing, asking, even singing and dancing outside…

Having just come back, with my body’s endurance being what it is, I will leave my favorite life source now and seek some physical rest -away from my desk. There is so much more, though, that I would absolutely love to share with you. About this traveling endeavor and on other matters involving us all. So, I will be back. I hope you will too.


Filed under Reflections

“a wind chime”

it’s man-made
a wind chime that is
who argues
but it stirs to life
at nature’s each whisper

i’ve been swept off of my feet
in my child-self-dances like this
the teenage-spirit’s will to play
hushed itself under social etiquette

then i was made to forget

only in dainty slices of the night
do i achieve silence these days
this one though is much desired
three-wishes-kind-of-a genie-attired

i let my meant-to-be-self flow
she inhales the universe in one go

one step-mime at a time
for she at last is in her prime
in the presence of a wind chime

~ ~ ~

© hülya n. yılmaz, 2.24.2017


Filed under Poetry, Reflections

NaPoWriMo Challenge: Day 23

eyes on my work chair

mouth in fast non-stop motion

feet on hopping gear




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Filed under Poetry

NaPoWriMo Challenge: Day 22

Day 22 prompt of NaPoWriMo challenges me “to write a poem in keeping with Earth Day. […]”  Unfortunately, I don’t have a happy poem about a new growth in nature somewhere.  I am no gardener.  As for house plants, even the most negligence-tolerant ones tend to die fast in my hands.  I do, however, appreciate nature and like it very much from indoors. In other words, I am not a grouch of some kind but rather one of those people who just can’t grow anything that comes in the form of seed into their hands.  At any rate.  To compensate the somewhat grim tone of my verses today, I am leaving you with the ever-so-mood-lifting images from a link I was eager to borrow from a long-time friend. With much appreciation for both of my sources, for they helped me save the Earth Day for a change.


caressed each dead branch

poured love to the dried up soil

oh, why, my Bonsai!



Mentioned Sources:


Dr. Joshua Brown


Filed under Poetry

NaPoWriMo Challenge: Day 13

The Backyard Circus


a squirrel feeder

a small-bird-feeder

within a friendly distance


squirrels acrobat on, at, along the bird-turf

bunnies circle round and round beneath the squirrel food supplier

small birds peck on what’s left on the squirrel ground from before

a cardinal, too large for the bird feeder, dances with grace and hope for left-overs

crows, inching closer and closer, hope for yet another feeder

the chipmunk opts for a hiding spot

knows my decorative stones

mean peace


Filed under Poetry