…wanting to scream as were such act enough to stop the pain…

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hyenas

coyotes

wolves

alligators

lizards

sharks

and other kings of vultures

are lulled to their eternal sleep

in their dens amid circles of doves

lambs cranes sloths deers and butterflies

compassion has reached the birth canal

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[Credit for the Images: Summer Anne Burton at buzzfeed.com]

* This poem – here still in its raw version – will re-appear in An Aegean Breeze of Peace, a pending book of poetry, being currently co-authored by Dr. Demetrios Trifiatis (Greece) and myself (Turkey) to be published by Inner Child Press, Ltd.

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…begging your muse to…

Together with Demetrios Trifiatis – a dear friend in the written arts, I am currently working on a book of poetry, both of us having envisioned a world where peace will rule. Yes, we all have heard this wish, dream, desire, hope, expectation, or whatever we may end up calling it, many times before. Still, this caring soul and I can’t stop from at least making our own attempt to spread the word for the anti-thesis of hatred and what feeds it. While my co-author has composed poems well beyond our book’s capacity for the time being, my work is pending. More often than not I find myself searching for words for the overwhelming inspiration I have deep inside me. When I most recently caught myself in yet one other no-match-situation as far as my good will being frowned down upon my pen’s capacity, I went through most of my previous poems for help. The one I am sharing with you today has its poet pleading with the muse of poetry and music…enough said, I suppose?

25.Euterpe_auf_Brunnenwand(1857)-Friedrich_Ochs-Sanssouci-Mittlerer_Lustgarten_Steffen_Heilfort

[Image Credit: WIKIMEDIA COMMONS]

Euterpe

i beg of you hear my plea

shield the natal passion

the first resolve to forget

the quest for the new breath

the now

the here

inspire

my desire

to define

the divine

rid me of yesteryear

free me from the self

watch my soul reject its cage

sate my shadow’s final plea

let it soar in its primal roar

see its essence prance in trance

help me shape the freshened day

© hülya n. yılmaz, March 20, 2015

“Euterpe” was published in the April 2015 issue of The Year of the Poet, a monthly book series published by Inner Child Press, Ltd. Each month, this book consists of poem contributions made by nineteen authors, The Poetry Posse and featured poetry by others.

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“inkpots”

Thomas-Chatterton-In-His-Garret

[Photo Credit: Thomas Chatterton in His Garret]

inkpots

used to uncover the fading word

a second or more to gather the instant

to reminisce to reflect to feel to sense

to touch to hold the new breath

exhaling life at its worst

inhaling poetry

pre-natal

willed

pure

to surpass it all again and again

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I had the privilege to contribute with my “inkpots” – together with two other poems, to the April 2015 issue of The Year of the Poet, a monthly book series published by Inner Child Press, Ltd.  While I was writing down my words, I couldn’t shake off the image of the protagonist in one of my most favorite German short stories: a sickly writer in an ice cold tiny flat who relies on his last submitted work, a novelette, to help his wife and himself survive a little longer. I remember how thankful I felt throughout my processing of the three poems: thankful for my day job, that is. I still do. Can you imagine what would become of me, if I, too, was forced to make a living from selling my literary writings?

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“Muses, help me with art”…

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a gentle wind

lowers itself onto the arid leaf

thirsty for the attar of a new breath

awaiting in patience the first drop

underneath layers of the frozen white

whispers promises anew

unlocks the box after Pandora leaves

she has been tricked

no ill seeps through this time

the bolt’s ice will not be melting yet

in joyous dance unite hope and smiles

dreams and love recover again

Goethe calls out as if for me:

Muses, help me with art,

To suffer joy’s pain!

Ludwig Uhland’s painless joy

cuddles me with a kissing breeze:

Oh fresh scent, oh new sound!

Now, poor heart, fear not!

Now everything, everything must change.

gentle-breeze-lyle-huisken

The poem, “a gentle wind” was among my three contributions for the April 2015 issue of The Year of the Poet, a monthly book series published by Inner Child Press, Ltd.

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Cultural supremacy? Hence the problem within…

lion

(Source: Google free images)

In my poem below, I try to come to terms with the concept of superiority some cultural entities feel entitled to exert over others. The mainstream culture of my country of birth country was no exception – one of considerable dominance, in the world of the recent past, in particular. The perspective I adopted for my poetic attempt here, however, is of universal concern – as I perceived it then and perceive it now.

exclusive memberships

it’s a learned thing

nothing to be proud of, if gone awry

and as time is an esteemed witness

these matters too often go amiss

parents, grandparents, great grandparents lead the way

they don’t want us to ever go astray

as fast as the revolving door can sway

they scatter us all on a multi-tiered tray

we thus journey as scattered selves into which we are made

though we return to our source as the one that we are meant

 “our culture is extraordinary,” has always been the firm claim,

“learn our rich heritage, live up to its age-old fame,

wear your ethnic pride always all over your untainted build,

have the inferior assume the massacres’ guilt blame and shame”

it’s a learned thing

nothing to be proud of, if gone awry

and as time is an esteemed witness

these matters too often go amiss

Forestwander.com

(Source: Forestwander.com)

This poem is one of my three contributions for the February 2015 issue of The Year of the Poet, a monthly book series published by Inner Child Press, Ltd.

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the stripper

(…shame shame shame on me…did I get your attention? hoping that you will forgive me my sense of humor but also that the poem won’t disappoint, I wish you all a wonderful Sunday and an equally wonderful new week!)

poetic-pen

donning layers of coats inside what we call a lifetime

disguising as an imagery we shape and re-shape as our own

centuries have served countless troops of venturing attempters

veiling the vast hopelessness of hope

uncovering our word yielding to its due worth

lending the lyrical shade its sheer transparency

asking the rhythm the flow the diction to a waltz around the form

while taking off one wrap after another…

© hülya n. yılmaz, April 2015

~ ~ ~

This poem is one of my three contributions for the May 2015 issue of The Year of the Poet, a monthly book series published by Inner Child Press, Ltd.

~ ~ ~

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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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