Two Poems: Black Poncho, and Spirits of de Copan [in English and Spanish]
12) Black Poncho
(of Saint Cosme Hill, by Lima, Peru)
Lost in the grottos of Peru-
?in the form of scorching fruit;
By using his poncho to pull
Henceforward, he was swindled
Note: Information taken from a number of conversations with the locals of Lima, Peru (and my father-in-law) especially from a conversation with Hernan Espinoza, a waiter in Lima, Peru, as he remembered it (the year being: l945); 5-4-2005; #625; there is also another side to this man, one that is considered to more on the side of Robin Hood,the thief; as Papa Augusto would have it.
Versión en Español
(del Cerro San Cosme en Lima, Perú)
Perdido en las grutas de Perú-
?en la forma de fruta chamuscada;
Usando su poncho para jalar
Después, él fue estafado
Note: La Información fue obtenido de una conversación con Hernan Espinoza, un camarero en Lima, Perú, así como él lo recordó (Año: 1945); Mayo 4 del 2005; Nro. 625
13. The Spirits de Copan
I see them in the skies
And never are alone-
The Spirits and the Ghouls?
They are shadows in my world
These spirits hide in ancient stones
In ebbing shadows
They are no man's friend
The Spirits de Copan (have)-:
These were the kings
In the Great Plaza
A spirit, let known
(In its trembling vacuum):
As I looked towards
The imposing palaces
And I walked away
Note: written while visiting the Copan Valley, and site, in Honduras; written between 4-24/25-2005, #630.
Versión en Español
13. Los Espíritus de Copan
Los veo en los cielos
Y nunca están solos-
Los Espíritus y los Demonios ?
Ellos son sombras en mi mundo
Estos espíritus se ocultan en piedras antiguas
En sombras que bajan
Ellos no son amigo del hombre
Los espíritus de Copan (tienen)-:
Estos fueron los reyes
Conejo de Humo
En Gran Plaza
Un espíritu, deja conocer
( En su trémula respiracion):
Como miré hacia
Los palacios imponentes
Y me alejé
Note: escrito en la visita al Valle Copan, y lugar arqueologico, en Honduras.Escrito entre Abril 24 y 25 del 2005, Nro. 630.
Dennis Siluk is a writer, considered by Marissa Cardenas, reporter for the Correo Newspaper, of Peru who says: "...his stature is recognized worldwide as a sort of 'ambassador' of every country that he visits writing on their peoples, their histories and customs... similar to Julio Verne..." website: http://dennissiluk.tripod.com [see http://www.amazon.com or bn.com]Rosa P.
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âHygienic Egg 2018: a focus on the Poetry of Deathâ brings dance, song and poetry to New London - theday.com
An Old Wood Pile [a poem with notes]
Old skin, once held tight Against her skeleton- Rose no more, just draped Loosely over unpadded flesh; Un-tightened muscles, and tissue, Lost its courage, no-fortitude-, Gone are the days and years That stood against the Indomitable elements; The skeleton, now a landmark Hidden under flesh and blood Guts and moral fiber, backbone? Collapsed from drudgery Time, time: cascading inside-. Bones now leaving impressions Accepting fate Like tarnished silver!.
Whats A Prisoner to Do?
What's a prisoner to do when justice fails and the innocent is escorted off to jail?What's a prisoner to do once stigmatized, caged and abandoned and ostracized?What's a prisoner to do there's no one to trust; the system fails and the outcome unjust?What's a prisoner to do when family decide the punishment is warranted and justified?What's a prisoner to do while confined in a cell; the perpetrator's free and faring quite well?What's a prisoner to do once his reputation is dead and his life has been ruined because of what someone said?What's a prisoner to do when he's not believed, though he's telling the truth, he's thought to deceive?What's a prisoner to do as he sits all alone, no one seems to care; former friends all gone?What's a prisoner to do sitting lost and idle and most of one's thoughts become suicidal?What's a prisoner to do when freedom's taken away and the will to live diminishes each day?What's a prisoner to do when hedged in by strife; with no escape possible; no chance for a new life?What's a prisoner to do when he can no longer see the beauty of the sky or the waves of the sea?What's a prisoner to do when the sun he can't feel, nor the breeze of spring because his fate is sealed?What's a prisoner to do when doomed to despair but still praying to escape the electric chair?Tell me, what's a prisoner to do?Rev. Saundra L.
How wonderfully sweet to be a dweller dwelling on the road of goodbye. Bittersweet tears fall as I think of all the places I'll never see, all the faces I'll never know, all the joys I'll never share, as I head for the unknown.
Key Largo - Frater Albertus
Key Largo:The fans turn lazily in front of the doorThey open wide showing mangroves galoreAn egret in the everglades stalks its preyHaltingly it walks along its wayOn another bright and sunny dayA woman's floppy hat shades her beauty not so brittleThe silken scarf that holds the hat flutters just a littleShe pauses in the threshold of the doorSurveying what she's looking forShe is looking straight at meHer beauty flaunted all to see.'Where are you from?' while noticing I had a frownOn the other couch she elegantly sits downIn the small hotel lobby bar'A city north and very far.
A Dose of Laughter
I'm not well. Can't you tell? Kinda low, so, give me a dose of laughter.
Do you ever stare at the paper, waiting for poetic inspiration? Well, you can stop waiting and start using systematic techniques for creating poetry. If it seems too mechanical or artificial at first, don't worry.
I am not the one I was before yesterday.I cannot go back.
Portrait Of The Artist As A Young Dog
Emlyn Williams Theatre, Mold, North Wales: 20th February 2003Clwyd Theatr Cymru commemorated the 50th anniversary of the death of the Welsh poet, Dylan Thomas (1914-1953) with a superb run of performances by a small but accomplished cast of actors.Described in the programme as "A theatrical journey through the prose writing of Dylan Thomas", the production was created by Tim Baker, an Associate of the Royal National Theatre, who won the Manchester Evening News Best Visiting Production award in 1992 for the highly acclaimed To Kill a Mockingbird.
Poems have different cores, or so I believe, and can only be structured well for certain figurative language-heart beats; like all counselors are not made for all clients, so all poems are not made for the same person, or purpose; when we read we all have our likes and dislikes; I do not necessarily know what poetry is per se, but I do know what the greatness of poetry has, and great poetry is close to an illusion?it carries an echo I do believe-figurative yes, at best, and questionable yes, by far. Here are five poems I've recently wrote, all with a different core, focus and style.
The Spirits de Copan
Part oneI see them in the skies I hear them in their hells They whisper and they moanAnd never are alone- The Spirits and the Ghouls? The Spirits de Copan!They are shadows in my world Echoes in my dreams A mystery and a force To a cosmic happening! The Spirits and the Ghouls? The Spirits de Copan!..
You cannot make someone love you. All you can do is be someone who can be loved.
Asha of Darfur [A poem with a commentary by the author]
Asha of DarfurCry, cry-oh little Darfur woman For your sister Janjaweed- [in Sudan's merciless region-who was raped to death); Where rape and death run ramped;And Asha prays the Arabs don't' hear Here sobbing little black tears? ?in fear she will be chained to a bedIn Darfur, by the insidious justice Of the Arabs, who run ramped?Ah, yes! In Darfur you've guessed, It is not a crime to raped and arrested; By the very one who raped, and terrorizedYou; it is the conquest?Satan's ribs!..
Caught in the Arms of ED
YOU MIGHT THINK I AM STRONGI THINK YOU GOT IT WRONGI LIVE LIFE DAY TO DAYHOPING IT WILL GO MY WAYI HAVE MY FRIENDS AND MY FOOD PLANMY THERAPIST AND MY THOUGHTSMY EXERCISE AND MY EXCITEMENTTHEN SOMETHING HAPPENS AND I GET CAUGHTCAUGHT IN THE ARMS OF EDTURNING MY EYES AWAYFROM MY FOCUS TO WIN THE FIGHTTHAT I THOUGHT WAS GOING TO STAY.HE TELLS ME THAT I AM SELFISHTHAT I SHOULD DOUBT MY EVERY MOVEONE MINUTE I AM HAPPYDO I HAVE A RIGHT TO FEEL THIS GOOD?DOUBTING MY STRENGTH AND CONFIDENCEAS ED ALWAYS KNEW I WOULDI AM LOSING INCHES AROUND MY WAISTAND MY PANTS ARE FALLING OFFI SEE THE FACE OF ED IN MY HEADAS HE BEGINS TO LAUGH AND SCOFFYOU THINK YOU ARE GOING STRONGYOU THINK YOU GOT ME BEATLET ME SEE YOU LOSE EVEN MOREYOU WILL SEE THAT YOU WERE WRONG.
Learn About Love From Poet Rumi
Learn about love by reading poetry by a long dead poet named Rumi. No need to look for ancient texts hidden in caves.
Writing Innovative Poetry
Writing innovative poetry, the kind of poetry that reputable literary journals publish, entails knowing exactly what each word of a poem does to the reader. A good poem should be evocative, skillful, and cohesive, but before attempting to hone these attributes, a potential poet should be knowledgeable of the various forms and attributes of contemporary poetry.
Africa - Wheres The Profit?
A poetic comment that just welled up inside my head - why cant we just do something - before many more are dead?How pious those politicians are, When up there on T.V.
Uamaks Aquatic [suspense: now in Spanish and English]
Delicately, my mind was selecting a muffled tune, out of the dead dark empty space surrounding me?I saw a shape on a rock, not sure who it was; I had a sensitivity though, a feeling call it, or second-sight; I've heard that before, not sure if I want to put a lot of credence into it, but so be it, the sensitivity and numbness was there. I didn't' sense any danger in the moment, in the moonlit figure, sitting on the rocks, lurking, looking out into the deep.
Expressing an Emotion - The Art of Writing Poetry
Writing poetry is an art, a way of expression, finding meaning in few words. A melody of passion flowing out onto the pages, words that flow into each other and yet express the inner most thoughts and feelings of those who read the words.
Two Poems, with Figurative Language
Says Mr. Dennis Siluk, when asked to review his poetry somewhat, for he hesitates all the time when I ask him to so; I can tell you.
There are many times I set up barriers and walls, invisible unless you come too close, And then you hit them.You wonder what happened.
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