Tag Archives: William S. Peters Sr.

The 2017 Kosovo International Poetry Festival

PLEASE NOTE THE CORRECTIONS: My original post was incomplete with regard to the reference I made to the publishing enterprise of William S. Peters Sr., for, initially (1) I had missed providing an active link (added now), and (2) my titling was inadequate as the said enterprise has grown beyond the national boundaries, having become Inner Child Press International (corrected now). 

Good Sunday Dear Reader and Dear Visitor:

A few of my latest posts have not been of my own creative writings as those of you from whom I am fortunate enough to receive comments on my poetry know by now. Many upcoming posts (quotes, though meaningful to me) will follow suit for a while. I am in the midst of writing a book, which I am trying to complete before appearing at a highly exciting event between the 4th and 6th of September 2017: The Kosovo International Poetry Festival.

For this remarkable opportunity, I have two uniquely dear individuals to express my gratitude to -publicly this time: Fahredin Shehu, for inviting me to Rahovec, Kosovo where this multi-national celebration of poetry takes place. Dr. Shehu who has a large number of books in his publication record is the 2018 nominee for the Pulitzer Prize for Literature. He is also an established scholar, particularly in the fields of cultural and religious studies. In equal enthusiasm, I extend my appreciation to William S. Peters Sr., who has been an avid supporter and mentor within as well as beyond the perimeters of his publishing enterprise, Inner Child Press International -along with his steadily growing group of other authors also of my literary endeavors. Peters Sr. to whom belongs an extensive collection of his own written work was honored as Poet Laureate of the festival in 2015 where his contributions to literature, to society and to humanity at large were recognized with the prestigious Golden Grape Award at Rahovec, Kosovo.

I look forward to being back to my more personal and personable posts before too long, and to reconnecting with you once again through that wonderfully caring attention of yours. In the meantime, I wish you a memorable Sunday and far more beyond.

 

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“on a feel good road”

doing a mundane chore
taking out the garbage
the collection bin
several feet away
so it’s walking time

the sun brightens up its rays
bathes me under their glow
kisses me on my forehead
its scent on my bosom and nape
like my daily perfume

i am thus transported in time and space

Freud is said to have challenged:
“Where does a thought go
when it is forgotten?”

a thought
my thought
harboring right this second
innumerable memories
at the contact of one puff of the sun
could it be gone

not even at this mere blink of an eye
not inside my mind
not in my heart
as for my body
it is released to a bullet train
that detected by me alone
makes many a spellbinding stops

an enthralling land extends
and ramifies infinitely
before me
a festival of a sundry of flowers
petal to petal . . .
trees
multitudes of trees
olive pomegranate orange fig lemon mulberry
reddish-black and white
leaflet to leaflet . . .

the window in my private coach
seems at first to have been bolt shut
i get to open this forbidden one
down
all the way down
and take in
take all the way in
each and every one
of the sensory servings outside

it’s past lunch time
i feel hunger crawl into me
to the core of my starving soul
the morsels are aplenty and delicate
i discover a colossal plate
in a hidden arch of my compartment
tucked in by passengers of the many a past
to borrow it on and on then to make it last
i smile at my bountiful tray
i am content proud feel useful
the next traveler will indeed have
a sating manifold fertile sampler . . .

the virgin oil i extracted
from one olive tree my train had passed
helps me draw stick figures in my loan-dish
that the ones who journey after me
can liken to anything of their wish
there
there i am

O Dut Ağacının Üstünde
On Top of That Mulberry Tree

local boys around me
for i am a struggling tomboy
near my grandpa’s stately house
pants shorts or a skirt whatever i have on
i cannot remember or better yet
frankly don’t care a zilch about

my mom in her soft voice calls my name
it’s time to go inside

‘you are no longer a child my girl
and Sinop is a small place
we all must make grandpa proud
why don’t you play with the girls instead
and please only nearby and on the ground’

sitting around the dining table
we devour dishes and dishes of delicious food
some are just ordinary but others purely mom’s specialty
while all grown-ups sip strong coffee as is the habit
mom keeps busy
working patiently
on her most favorite fruit
that reddish-pink
semi-round thing

trying to entice me at least to taste it
by laughing behind a giggly riddle
that to me was then one of a kind
ÇARŞIDAN ALDIM BİR TANE,
EVE GELDİM BİN TANE
From the Bazaar, I bought only one
Came home and found a ton
while i am far from being enchanted
i ask in never-resting curiosity
‘O ne peki?’
What is it?
‘O bir nar, canım, nar!’
A pomegranate, my darling,
The answer is: pomegranate!

. . .

Nar Ağacım Benim
The Pomegranate Tree of Mine

whether one or a ton
THE pomegranate never left me stranded

early and formative school-bench years
showered me with a plentitude of exciting classes
the one on literary imagery
(i later understood correctly)
made my thirst for learning
as acute as my mom’s yearning
for that thing named pomegranate

then came the time of actual growing up
gifting me the privilege to specialize my studies
positive sciences on one road
humanities on the other . . .

a broad literary field of wondrous symbols
an era-identified compilation of Turkish writings
either originally conceived or mindfully adopted
were spread before my eager eyes ears and imagination
a tree of pomegranate the red shiny beads of a pomegranate
no longer were that foreign thing to me

my move out of the landscape of my birth
changed nothing in these later years
for i ran into it again
this time among the pages of a novel
where it was crying

a dear writer-friend of mine
knowing my late-bloomer-fascination
told me she strongly desired a translation
in my hands the same hands that just wouldn’t
just couldn’t let go off that pomegranate
besides
it was crying

joining my confused tears
on one random day at dusk . . .

Kısır Topraktaki Dut
The Mulberry on Barren Soil

high snow covered every bit of dirt
we had peaked the season of winter
sedated by a lifetime lifelong meal
leftovers looking back at me
from my borrowed plate
from my tray of loan

it wasn’t a cardinal’s chest
i could have sworn
a mulberry it was
a reddish-black one
from my little girl-tree
shared way back then
with a few Sinopian lads
before joining my beloveds
before watching that reddish-pink thing unfold
olive pomegranate orange lemon fig mulberry
yes yes oh yes mulberry the reddish-black kind
it was hanging on the leafiest twig
on the branch of my one summer-old tree

as if to wait for me to notice it
before falling onto a softest cushion of snow
like i on that day’s end and many times before
had wished to be falling into my mother’s arms
for lately i have been craving them so . . .

© hülya n. yılmaz (4.20.2017)

Uzak Geçmiş.jpg.opt100x100o0,-6s100x112

In memoriam to my mother whose birthday was in May, who also died in May -on the 7th, the day when her late brother was born.

~ ~ ~

This poem will appear in the May 2017 issue of The Year of the Poet, a monthly anthology featuring the poetry of nationally- and internationally-based writers and published by Inner Child Press, Ltd.

Thank you dear Bill, William S. Peters Sr. for the inspiration to my poem’s title.

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“i want my Poetry to . . .” Volume III, Another Inner Child Press Publication Underway

With my thanks to Inner Child Press, Ltd. for creating through its “Anthologies” another poetic platform under the guidance and leadership of  Gail Weston Shazor, I share with you  the poem of my contribution to Volume III of i want my Poetry to . . . (kindly note the short video-recording by Gail Weston Shazor following the end of my name down below).

i want my poetry to…

burn tears in your hearts
then bring them to the surface
before you decide you’d better cave in
to the pain and suffering etched ever so resiliently
in your past, present and future memories
when it’s time to have that wail explode
letting out that desperately patient standby “enough!”

i want my poetry to ease you then
into the arms of a selfless child-bearer
whose lullaby will tuck you in safely
under a snuggle-obsessed blanket-sleep
after having raised you from a darkest deep
together with the gentlest touch of other souls
which learned to utter only the tongue of love
their aura will entice you into a burial ground of ashes
where to lay to rest your ire and your innermost fears
to shed all your chains to be free of also the tears
which have been fiercely carved on earth
on its every hidden nook and cranny
since the birth of humanity

. . . be a break from life . . .

i want my poetry to weld with steel
the vital holes on your pails so frail
for you to be on your steadfast way
to flood in the universe with no delay
its tamest of waters on nature’s path
will gather for you to help you cleanse
your self-unforgiving self foremost
but won’t let you once forget all else
which you may have cursed in wrath
they will amass for you serene drops of bliss
to bathe under each the bitter ghosts of your ills
chafing away your immense boulder’s mass
for a modest few little whiles at last

. . . be a break from life . . .

i want my poetry to hold your hand
every time you must weather a storm
so that you know i too have been stained
the craftiest kind left me barren with all its might
hail rushed and wedded bloodcurdling thunders
lightening was only watching from afar at first
but then it exalted their union in a raucous roar
even snow flurries of my most loyal delight
showered the procession in a sliest twist

. . . be a break from life . . .

i want my poetry to waft you in the end
inside a cloud that is mate to the mild zephyr
to undiscovered lands as well to the Seven Seas
to the faraway councils of breath-taking skies
to the communes on the many luminous moons
to the cometic homes of ancient curiosities
in pursuit of the suns of the Egyptians
of the Hindu the Chinese the Japanese
of the Greek the Aztec the African
of the Navajo the Inca the Inuit
of the Sumerian the Roman

even though i don’t sing of elation alone . . .

© hülya n. yılmaz, 11.2.2016 (The inspiration came to me in installments: First, about a month ago; then two weeks later, and finally, last weekend.)

 

 

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“once a year”

for my %22memoires%22 poem

too old for peer pressure

yet still gullible

bursting at the sight of the all-senses-exposure

those persistent aides-mémoire disguised as lovers

heart goes on to beat to yearn and yearn and yearn…

© hülya n. yılmaz, February 20, 2015

This poem was published in the March 2015 issue of The Year of the Poet, a monthly book series by Inner Child Press, Ltd. as one of my three contributions among the works of poetry by other members of The Poetry Posse; namely, Jamie BondGail Weston ShazorAlbert ‘Infinite’ CarrascoSiddartha Beth PierceJanet P. CaldwellTony HenningerJoe DaVerbal MinddancerNeetu WaliShareef Abdur-RasheedKimberly BurhamAnn WhiteJackie Davis AllenTeresa E. GallionKatherine WyattKeith Alan HamiltonFahredin ShehuWilliam S. Peters, Sr. (the publisher of Inner Child Press, ltd.)

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Join us in our passion for poetry!

Whitman_at_about_fifty

(Photo: Free Online)

To have great poets, there must be great audiences too.

Walt Whitman (1819-1892)

Good Sunday!

If you are here right now, then you are a reader – regardless of how much of my text you will read (imagine: I arrived at this no-brainer-conclusion all by myself…gives out a sneaky smile…). Then, of course, there is the writer in you.  And as one, you know how the mysterious concept called “inspiration” works at times (or how it doesn’t). William S. Peters Sr. to whom I am proud to refer as my publisher has done it again; namely, envisioning and implementing together with Jamie Bond the Year of the Poet – monthly poetry books birthed through collaboration between Inner Child Press Ltd. (ICP) and The Creating Calm Publishing Group.

In 2014, the permanent contributors from among the large number of the ICP authors had included Jamie Bond, Gail Weston Shazor, Albert ‘Infinite’ Carrasco, Siddartha Beth Pierce, Janet P. Caldwell, June ‘Bugg’ Barefield, Debbie M. Allen, Tony Henninger, Joe DaVerbal Minddancer, Robert Gibbons, Neetu Wali, Shareef Abdur-Rasheed, Kimberly Burnham and William S. Peters, Sr. In the new year, there will be several new names, including Ann White, Keith Alan Hamilton, Teresa E. Gallion, Katherine Wyatt and myself. I know the remarkable penmanship of all these dear individuals and our shared passion for poetry is evident in every communication we have within or outside the territories of the books of mention. Then, there are featured poets for each month outside the “Core” contributors to poetry, all of whom have the same dedication to this literary art. As the ICP web page states, “[t]he objective is to bring the poetry community together with the various cross demographic representations found in gender, religion, geography, culture and ethnicity. We hope you enjoy the myriad of perspectives represented here (The Year of the Poet).”

2015 will be filled with writing and reading poems for me each month (if not far more often). I want to hope you will be a reader of these poetry books that are bound to surprise you with the promised beauty of one poem after another, month after month.

May the new year be and become all that you wish it to be and become for yourself and your loved ones! I look forward to your visit in 2015.

Yeni-Yıl-2015

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…fortunate and excited to share two news with you…

Books! Don’t you just love them?

th-1th-2th

For my blog.TRANCE Cover Front Final

At my publisher, Inner Child Press, ltd.

At amazon.com

 

Good Sunday! Just this past week, I have found out the following news, both from my publisher. Forgive me, if I only bring them to you this time. May the rest of your Sunday and your new week be as pleasant as it can be. As always, I very much look forward to your next visit.

~ ~ ~

The first news comes to you in a simple copy and paste act as follows: 

“Congratulations to Laura Lee Sweet, LaFaye Farrar, Keith Alan Hamilton, Robert J. Neal, Patrice N. Rivers, Hülya N Yılmaz and Lisa N. Wiley … they are the top 7 in Book Sales for the 1st Quarter of 2014. Find out why at: Inner Child Press Bookstore

The second news regards the fact that I now am on the verge of  launching my professional manuscript  review and critique services within the body of Inner Child Press, ltd. I am currently working on establishing my new blog, also right here on wordpress.com. This branching was offered to me by dear William S. Peters Sr.,my publisher (scroll down, once on the site),  thanks to his critical insight into my corresponding extensive experience in the fields of book and manuscript reviews and critiques. Review and Critique Services for Manuscripts of Fiction of All Length, my related blog site is yet under construction. Please visit it in about few short days, if you could; for I seek and will look forward to receive your thoughts, reactions, comments, suggestions.

 

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…self-centered…

My dear visitors,

I hope you won’t find me overly self-centered for sharing with you this time a high moment in my life when my creative writing is concerned: My Trance, a collection of poems in English, German and Turkish has found its voice! Both highly accomplished poets, William S. Peters Sr. and Janet P. Caldwell of Inner Child Press – the remarkable publishing enterprise I have written to you about a while ago – have given a life to my tri-lingual poetry.  You know you had them, at least a few, right?  Those mind-boggling moments of euphoria?  I have been in such state since early afternoon yesterday, when I found out my book of poems is really in print now.  What I have fantasized often since middle school has become a reality.  Simply because the two professionals of Inner Child Press, ltd. listened to my poetic stories of three different cultural conceptualizations and corresponding life experiences with much care and love, giving me the life-time opportunity of a three-fold literary voice.  The picture below shows you the cover, “Le’nfant” – an original artwork by the artist and poet Siddartha Beth Pierce . An excerpt from my prose, then,  follows on the right – a small segment of the framework within which I provide my readers the transnational context behind my poems:

TRANCE Cover Front Final

 

My poems tell you about a life passed by me, at the same time – with their mere appearance in this book, they announce to you and me a life I decided to live.  Whether their construct is in English, German or Turkish, I strongly hope you will recognize your own stories in them.  However, I wish you will mostly relate to the poems of rejoice and not need to seek solace in those where I mirror countless moments of deep sadness.

 

 

I hope you will find it in your heart to join me in a celebration of not only my high moment but those I wish for all of us to come our ways in one form or another.  Then, as always, I wish you the best in everything and look forward to your visit next Sunday.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

After posting for this morning, I have discovered the following remarkable words by a fellow-poet – whom I fondly call a son (whom I never met).  Since this is my day of self-promotion (smiles…), I will go ahead and share with you his insight in to my Trance:

TRANCE

Hülya N. Yılmaz, in this soulful poetry collection of hers displays high level of intellectualism that will keep a reader digging incessantly in order to fully explore the richness of her eloquent expression.

As a reader, I had to connect my soul to her writings in order to extract the undiluted message Hulya has for the world.

Written in three dominant languages; Tukish, German and English…Hulya achieves what many will term impossible as she unites and creates a unique blend with these three languages without a depreciation in the appreciation of her profound expressions.

I cannot help but further continue to address Hulya N. Yilmaz as a literary mother whom I need to associate myself with so as to graduate to the level of excellence where mediocrity is shamed.

My heart is endeared to this awesome collection (Trance), and my love for the writer is strengthened beyond breakage…I have no choice but to address her as “mein Schatz” ( You care to know the meaning of these strange words? Go get the book)
Book available via link: http://www.innerchildpress.com/hülya-n-yilmaz.php

~Kolade Olanrewaju Freedom

Related Links:

Siddartha Beth Pierce

Hülya N. Yılmaz

Facebook Site for Trance

Kolade Olanrewaju Freedom on Facebook

The Light Bearer – Poetry Book by Kolade Olanrewaju Freedom

The Light Bearer by Kolade Olanrewaju Freedom – Book Review by Celestial Wisdom

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