. . .

i check in
over-modesty exists
my home for the next four days
greets me with my first companion
Passionate Love Letters. An Anthology of Desire

Kafka  to Felice Bauer his twice estranged fiancé
in his letter of October 29, 1913:
My longing for you is such that it presses on my breast
like tears that cannot be wept.

©hülya n. yılmaz, 3.8.2017

At Barcelona Lakeside Bed and Breakfast where the owners, a worldly couple, redefine the concept of “Bed and Breakfast” in the truest sense through their exemplary 24-hour hospitality that is coupled with an acute awareness for their guests’ private sphere, and daily offerings -in person -of their culinary art that is exquisite in presentation and taste but also in its collage effect of everything homegrown.

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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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. . .

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

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“you are my weakness”

i mean no offense

the only one
allowed to destroy my vip for life
carving out salivating annihilating
all that i believed my core stood for

i mean no offense

the only one
allowed to mislead the virgin in me
i had since birth been treasuring
inside this rapidly aged and aging body

i mean no offense

the only one
allowed to trash my inborn naiveté
cherished not merely a summer or a winter
but for four seasons arriving each year one by one

i mean no offense

the only one
allowed to put me on hold
time and time again
on and on…and on

with hope-robbed mercilessly grueling
heart-to-mind mind-to-heart lectures
having me wait on call in infinite shifts
none of those cruel hours reaching an end

then to make known
i’m sorry  you are not worth
to alter life for
what on earth for

i mean no offense

the only one
to come to my defense
erecting back the pieces
from their deepest depth

was

. . .

no not you my unforgettable first love
no not you my youth’s handsomest nth suitor
no not you my unfortunate partner in marriage
no not you my last gentlest purest love

i mean no offense

. . .

you on the other hand
yes you the one and only self
are my weakness at its worst
and my strength at its best

you are finally caressed
in the same tenderest way
i tirelessly tended to my lovers
having given you frivolously away

you are loved the same at last

©hülya n. yılmaz, 2.1.2017

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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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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.

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. . .

. . . still going through labor pains . . . how about you?

“You need chaos in your soul to give birth to a dancing star.” ~ Nietzsche

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