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Donall Dempsey Aug 2016
YADA TASHY ( "Originator Stone" )

Outside the first snow falls.

Her wounds are photographed.

Spoken of.

Described in detail.

Technical.

The overhead microphone
takes it all in.

Being dead she is
more naked

than she ever was.

Stripped of her
humanity.

She had ceased to be
who she used to be.

She is now
merely a cadaver.

The autopsy can not tell
her name.

She is Kuzuku.

Her mother called her
KuKu.

She had been born
with a caul.

KuKu was pregnant.

She was going to call
the child if it was a girl

. . .Yuki.

She couldn't conceive what
she would call it if a boy?

It was always going to be
a girl.

She liked candyfloss
and her hair up.

Now her hair is down.
It touches her shoulders.

As if her hair were
still alive.

The autopsy
wound by wound

tells of the hell
of her dying.

The voice is
deadpan.

Mechanical.

The coroner
breaks for coffee.

Bitter.  Black.

"Ya da!"
as the Turks say.

"...with nothing..."

*

Kuzuku was named after the flowering plant/rampant ****. Her mother always drank a tea made from it. Only her mother called her her pet name; "Kuku!" Her blacker than black hair always seemed like a living entity in itself as it danced upon her shoulders or splashed over her clavicles. She always wore off the shoulder dresses or tops even in winter cold. I once told her she had the cutest clavicles( "rekishi no naka de kawaī sakotsu" )in history which....always made her laugh. I told her she had well tempered clavicles and she laughed even more when the pun was explained to her. She had been born with a caul...a red caul. She it was who told me the Turkish tale or the Yada Daşı and of the Yadachy.

She had just met the man who would eventually stab her to death and she was greatly in love with him and his culture.

All these little scraps of humanity could not be disclosed by the autopsy which could never tell of how beautiful she was and what a joy she was to be around.

Her death was a horror tale told by a friend of a friend of a friend and hard to comprehend or believe.
Yada Tashy (Turkish: Yada Taşı; Bashkort: Йәй Ташы, Azerbaijanese: Yada Daşı, means "Originator Stone" or "Rain Stone") is a legendary folkloric substance said to be capable of summoning rain. For many centuries, it was the single most sought-after item in Turkic folk legends. Yada Tashy was a central symbol to the mystical terminology in Turkic mythology, symbolising interference to and control over natural phenomena.

Yadachy (Turkish: Yadacı/Yadaçı) in Turkic tradition, were men believed to have an inborn supernatural ability to protect their estate, village, or region against destructive weather conditions, such as storms, hail, or torrential rains. It was believed that the souls of these men could leave their bodies in sleep, to intercept and fight with demonic beings imagined as bringers of bad weather. Having defeated the demons and taken away the stormy clouds they brought, the protectors would return into their bodies and wake up tired.

Yadachy of an area usually fought together against the attacking Yadachy of another area who were bringing a storm and hail clouds above their fields. The victorious Yadachy would loot the yield of all agricultural produce from the territory of their defeated foes, and take it to their own region. Although Yadachy could be women and children, most were adult men. Their supernatural power was thought to be inborn. In many regions it was regarded that the Yadachy were born with a caul—white or red, depending on the regional belief. The mother would dry the caul and sew into a piece of garment always worn by the child, such as a pouch attached under the child's armpit. Adverse weather such as a storm or hail could devastate crop fields and orchards, and thus jeopardise the livelihood of farmers in the affected area. A role of Yadachy, according to folk tradition, was to lead storms and hail clouds away from their family estates, villages, or regions, to save their crops. A Yadachy could take the storms and hail clouds over the territory of another Yadachy to destroy its crops. The other Yadachy would fly up to confront the bringer of bad weather, and there would be a fight between the Yadachy.
Aridea P Jan 2014
Ayahku adalah Cahaya
Yang menerangiku dalam perjalanan di dunia
Menuntunku tuk memilih arah yang tepat
Menyayangiku sepanjang doanya
Memelukku dari jauh dalam sholatnya
Menciumku melalui ayat-ayat suci yang dibacanya

Ibuku adalah Udara
Yang memberikanku kehidupan ini
Yang menyentuhku dengan hati
Menyayangiku sepanjang kuku yang akan selalu tumbuh
Merangkulku dengan hati dan pikirannya
Merawatku sepenuh hati dan segenap raganya

Adik-adikku adalah Air
Yang menyejukkan dengan senyuman mereka
Motivasiku tuk meraih impian mereka
Alasanku bekerja keras tuk membangun bahtera
Dengan mereka aku sangat bahagia
Dengan suara mereka aku kuat
.
.
.
Namun aku hanyalah Aku
Yang tak mampu memiliki mereka seutuhnya
Yang tak miliki cukup banyak waktu tuk mengenal mereka
Yang jarang bersua dan menanam rindu pada mereka
Aku hanyalah pejuang di Samudera Seberang

Aku hanyalah Aku
Yang memiliki perasaan dan pikiran
Tuk memilih jalan hidupku sendiri
Yang membutuhkan seorang teman
Teman sejati yang sejak dulu kun anti
Teman yang benar-benar tean
Yang ada di sampingku saat susah senang
Selamanya …
Bintun Nahl 1453 Mar 2015
Inilah Proses Kematian dan Hancurnya Tubuh Kita!
Sesaat sebelum mati, Anda akan merasakan jantung berhenti berdetak, nafas tertahan dan badan bergetar. Anda merasa dingin ditelinga. Darah berubah menjadi asam dan tenggorokan berkontraksi.
0 Menit
Kematian secara medis terjadi ketika otak kehabisan supply oksigen.
1 Menit
Darah berubah warna dan otot kehilangan kontraksi, isi kantung kemih keluar tanpa izin.
3 Menit
Sel-sel otak tewas secara masal. Saat ini otak benar-benar berhenti berpikir.
4 – 5 Menit
Pupil mata membesar dan berselaput. Bola mata mengkerut karena kehilangan tekanan darah.
7 – 9 Menit
Penghubung ke otak mulai mati.
1 – 4 Jam
Rigor Mortis (fase dimana keseluruhan otot di tubuh menjadi kaku) membuat otot kaku dan rambut berdiri, kesannya rambut tetap tumbuh setelah mati.
4 – 6 Jam
Rigor Mortis Terus beraksi. Darah yang berkumpul lalu mati dan warna kulit menghitam.
6 Jam
Otot masih berkontraksi. Proses penghancuran, seperti efek alkohol masih berjalan.
8 Jam
Suhu tubuh langsung menurun drastis.
24 – 72 Jam
Isi perut membusuk oleh mikroba dan pankreas mulai mencerna dirinya sendiri.
36 – 48 Jam
Rigor Mortis berhenti, tubuh anda selentur penari balerina.
3 – 5 Hari
Pembusukan mengakibatkan luka skala besar, darah menetes keluar dari mulut dan hidung.
8 – 10 Hari
Warna tubuh berubah dari hijau ke merah sejalan dengan membusuknya darah.
Beberapa Minggu
Rambut, kuku dan gigi dengan mudahnya terlepas.
Satu Bulan
Kulit Anda mulai mencair.
Satu Tahun
Tidak ada lagi yang tersisa dari tubuh Anda. Anda yang sewaktu hidupnya cantik, gagah, ganteng, kaya dan berkuasa, sekarang hanyalah tumpukan tulang-belulang yang menyedihkan. Jadi, apa lagi yg mau disombongkan org sebenarnya????
BAGUS UNTUK DIRENUNGKAN.....
Kita tak membawa apapun juga saat kita meninggalkan dunia yg fana ini..
KA Poetry Nov 2017
Cinta
Mungkin adalah hal yang paling sakral di kehidupan
Terjadi ketika 2 insan bertemu
Saling menerangi sesama

Rindu
Mungkin adalah hal yang paling ajaib di kehidupan
Terjadi ketika dirimu terlintas di benakku
Turbulensi yang bergejolak di hati dan pikiran

Doa
Adalah saat ketika keajaiban akan terjadi
Ketika kuucapkan namamu yang begitu indah di doaku
Agar didengar oleh Allah SWT

Dirimu
Sebuah anugerah yang sangat dijaga
Begitu sucinya dirimu untuk dilihat
Seolah-olah menggugurkan segala bintang

Diriku..
Lelaki yang mendambakanmu
Seperti kerumunan semut yang berciuman dan yang mencubit
Pada waktu satu anak kecil yang menggigit-gigit kuku jari

Rindu adalah bulu matamu, bergulung-gulung layaknya ombak

Perempuan ciptaan cahaya
Perempuan semua anggrek kesayangan
Kau layaknya labuhan terjauh, pekat, tidak berujung
Bolehkah aku berlayar disana?
11/11/2017 | 20.34 |Indonesia
Noandy Sep 2016
Setanmu itu,

Ia masih menghampiriku
Duduk di ujung kuku kakiku
Untuk mengaji
Agar aku tidak pernah lupa
Pada satu pertanyaannya:

Mengapa
Aku sampai membakar diri
Untuk menjual jiwa
Pada nyala sepercik
Padahal lamanya
Tak lebih dari sedetik

Kenapa, tanyanya,
Aku terbaring siang dan malam
Dengan jarum-jarum
Di sekujur tubuh
Yang dengan sendiri kutusuk

Kenapa,
Balik kutanya,
Kenapa
Aku masih di sini?
VM Jan 2021
Hari ini dia datang lagi
Dengan gaun kuning tanpa lengan
Rambutnya dibelah dua dan dikepang dengan dua warna karet rambut yang berbeda pada tiap-tiap ujungnya
Senyumnya manis sekali

"Dasar anak cantik"

Dia tersenyum semakin lebar sambil menawarkan aku setangkai balon
Sepertinya balon itu baru saja digelembungkan
Aku menggeseknya dengan kuku yang baru saja kupotong
Aku pikir dia akan mengernyit, entah kenapa dia malah tertawa

"Kemana saja kamu selama ini?"

Tertulis sebuah nama restoran yang kukenal pada balon itu
Jelas bukan tempat makan favoritku
Karena aku tak terlalu antusias saat melihat namanya
Sebuah tempat yang sering didatangi anak bini
Dipenuhi oleh emosi-emosi semu
Hanya untuk terlihat intim—setidaknya bukan tempat untuk anak gadis yang terus menatap layar ponselnya tanpa henti

"Darimana kamu tahu aku ada di sini?"

Dia memberikan aku kepingan lakban yang ternyata masih tercecer
Saat itu aku memperapikan koleksi buku harian, ya, dengan upaya untuk tidak melihatnya lagi
Supaya aku tak jatuh kepada rasa ingin membaca ulang semua tulisanku
Sial! Pasti dia mengawasi aku

"Apa tujuanmu kesini?"

Air mata berderai dari kedua matanya yang bulat
Seolah akan mengujarkan sesuatu dari mulutnya, dia hanya diam
Mungkin bukan diam, tapi mengoceh dengan kata-kata yang tak dapat kucerna
Kugenggam telapak tangan nya—sungguh kecil dibanding milikku
Dia masih saja menangis tanpa henti
Untuk segala tenggang rasa yang aku tahan kepada anak-anak, kali ini cukup iba rasanya

"Ayo, lah, aku hanya ingin merokok di sini"

Entahlah, enyahlah
Aku juga harus beranjak pergi dari sini
Lapangan tenis kosong yang dihiasi dedaunan repih
Shamai Oct 2018
Children are lucky because they have
A Grandma and  a Grandmama
Nonna, Mhamó, Abuela, Bibi
Babcia, Giagiá, Avó, Oma

Nagymama, Mormor, or Kuku wahine
Are names of love for their Nan
O baachan, Babushka, Tutu, Halmeoni
Are certainly not names for a man

Ouma, Savta, Bubbi, Geema
Nai Nai, Nona, Gramms and more
Bomma, Mawmaw, Yaya, Nana
If I keep going you’ll think  I’m a bore

All names for their Grandma
The one they adore
That special someone
Who’s love to the core

She plays with them, cuddles, and keeps them all warm
She feeds them, she rears them takes over the chore
But all of this just to say, lest we forget
Grandmas are LOVE LOVE  LOVE and more
Dark n Beautiful Feb 2023
Come, let us plant the seed of love,

let's create what some scientist said that was impossible

Let our love show in a magnificent way

Let it be healthy, wealthy and wise in coming years

It would be tears, it would be joy,

He would be our love joy and our sweet boy:

There is madness, there is happiness,

However, as we all know, happiness is found in the

Madness of one's life.

“There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness.”


― Friedrich Nietzsche



Enter me with the warmth of your love,

Deposit the gift of life, as you seed flow and reach the tubes,

One smart egg will bond to become our next generation



Why would we do this, why?

Love like this is rare,

Come, let us plant the seed of your love  

And we shall see our blessing of tomorrow.

Are you ready for fatherhood,  

Are you ready for the responsibility

Are you ready to believe that one plus one  

Equal three, are you ready kuku?

So, let's plant the seed of love.

We plant this seed, on the bed of  

Residency the Blessing, on the coolest night

In Accura, near the Gulf of Guinea,

A sign of life, a sign of hope,

You should plant this seed,

It could be a future doctor

who would  cure, senseless disease

A politician who can change numerous things

As he travels the world for free,

And speak up about the country economy  

Or become the better poet, than his mother

Could ever be, Lord blessed thee!

One day his grandchildren will ask

Who was my grandparents, thank God

For them, that hour, when they planted the seeds.
Eva Sep 2020
The days may die but the mission never ages
It is heavier than the world
So keep your light on
Donall Dempsey Aug 2019
YADA TASHY ( "Originator Stone" )

Outside the first snow falls.

Her wounds are photographed.

Spoken of.

Described in detail.

Technical.

The overhead microphone
takes it all in.

Being dead she is
more naked

than she ever was.

Stripped of her
humanity.

She had ceased to be
who she used to be.

She is now
merely a cadaver.

The autopsy can not tell
her name.

She is Kuzuku.

Her mother called her
KuKu.

She had been born
with a caul.

KuKu was pregnant.

She was going to call
the child if it was a girl

. . .Yuki.

She couldn't conceive what
she would call it if a boy?

It was always going to be
a girl.

She liked candyfloss
and her hair up.

Now her hair is down.
It touches her shoulders.

As if her hair were
still alive.

The autopsy
wound by wound

tells of the hell
of her dying.

The voice is
deadpan.

Mechanical.

The coroner
breaks for coffee.

Bitter.  Black.

"Ya da!"
as the Turks say.

"...with nothing..."
***

Kuzuku was named after the flowering plant/rampant ****. Her mother always drank a tea made from it. Only her mother called her her pet name; "Kuku!" Her blacker than black hair always seemed like a living entity in itself as it danced upon her shoulders or splashed over her clavicles. She always wore off the shoulder dresses or tops even in winter cold. I once told her she had the cutest clavicles( "rekishi no naka de kawaī sakotsu" )in history which....always made her laugh. I told her she had well tempered clavicles and she laughed even more when the pun was explained to her. She had been born with a caul...a red caul. She it was who told me the Turkish tale or the Yada Daşı and of the Yadachy.

She had just met the man who would eventually stab her to death and she was greatly in love with him and his culture.

All these little scraps of humanity could not be disclosed by the autopsy which could never tell of how beautiful she was and what a joy she was to be around.

Her death was a horror tale told by a friend of a friend of a friend and hard to comprehend or believe.

***

Yada Tashy (Turkish: Yada Taşı; Bashkort: Йәй Ташы, Azerbaijanese: Yada Daşı, means "Originator Stone" or "Rain Stone") is a legendary folkloric substance said to be capable of summoning rain. For many centuries, it was the single most sought-after item in Turkic folk legends. Yada Tashy was a central symbol to the mystical terminology in Turkic mythology, symbolising interference to and control over natural phenomena.

Yadachy (Turkish: Yadacı/Yadaçı) in Turkic tradition, were men believed to have an inborn supernatural ability to protect their estate, village, or region against destructive weather conditions, such as storms, hail, or torrential rains. It was believed that the souls of these men could leave their bodies in sleep, to intercept and fight with demonic beings imagined as bringers of bad weather. Having defeated the demons and taken away the stormy clouds they brought, the protectors would return into their bodies and wake up tired.

Yadachy of an area usually fought together against the attacking Yadachy of another area who were bringing a storm and hail clouds above their fields. The victorious Yadachy would loot the yield of all agricultural produce from the territory of their defeated foes, and take it to their own region. Although Yadachy could be women and children, most were adult men. Their supernatural power was thought to be inborn. In many regions it was regarded that the Yadachy were born with a caul—white or red, depending on the regional belief. The mother would dry the caul and sew into a piece of garment always worn by the child, such as a pouch attached under the child's armpit. Adverse weather such as a storm or hail could devastate crop fields and orchards, and thus jeopardise the livelihood of farmers in the affected area. A role of Yadachy, according to folk tradition, was to lead storms and hail clouds away from their family estates, villages, or regions, to save their crops. A Yadachy could take the storms and hail clouds over the territory of another Yadachy to destroy its crops. The other Yadachy would fly up to confront the bringer of bad weather, and there would be a fight between the Yadachy.
Nabiila Marwaa Dec 2020
setanmu itu,

ia masih menghampiriku
duduk di ujung kuku kakiku
bersabda sepanjang malam
agar aku tidak pernah lupa
pada satu pertanyaannya:

mengapa
aku sampai membakar diri
untuk menjual jiwa
pada nyala sepercik
padahal lamanya
tak akan lebih dari sedetik

kenapa, tanyanya,
aku bersikap tak acuh
padahal hati ingin bertaruh
tetapi malah memilih menjauh
dengan terseok-seok pula lumpuh

kenapa,
balik kutanya,
kenapa
kamu masih di sini?

— The End —