Lima, City with the Stretched out Wings [In English and Spanish]
It's an ink-black night: no stars: a moon in sight
Just dots of: red, green and white-white lights
As the plane descends, descends, slides down
The sleepless city, with its stretched out wings
Stretching from the mountains to the sea-
I'm descending, down, over and around the city
The city with stretched out wings-and endless lights
Invisible people: cats, dogs, birds, and rats-infinite
Uncountable: dots; streams of lit dots, dot-lights;
For tomorrow, tomorrow and another tomorrow
you are ruthless, and I know this to be true
And they tell me you have thieves and murders-
And this, I dare say-but shall-is also true, very true
So alive, so brave, with strong and hungry hearts;
I say, show me one that sings in poverty and smiles
As good as: Picasso, Dali, Rembrandt, and Yang Yang
And that welcomes the world with stretched out arms-
Show me all this, or some of this, and I will say no more
I descend to its streets, its crowed winding streets
As well as, to its neighborhoods with dust and soiled air,
And the numerous food carts; -- musicians, paper sellers
And with its naked featherless wings, covering all
-My Lima, Peru with its renowned Cathedral:
Golden yellow with towering crowns, and
Within its plaza-square, a water fountain-celebrated.
Under its sins, with its wrinkled aged men, lovely women,
They all stand tall and bow to its Inca history, its glory-
Like the American Dream, they were the noble, the kings
And now, from drudgery and toil, sweat and strive, all, all Grinding, grinding away, each and everyday, lover of the, King of Kings: Jesus Christ-this is the Lima I know today; a mighty ship that has already sailed the seven seas, now resting!?
Esta es una noche oscura: no estrellas, ni luna a la vista
Solo puntos: rojo, verde y blanco-luces blancas
Mientras que el avión desciende, desciende, bajando
La despierta ciudad, con sus alas extendidas
Extendidas desde las montañas hacia el océano
Voy descendiendo, abajo, por encima y alrededor de la ciudad
La ciudad con las alas extendidas-y luces interminables
Invisible: gente, gatos, perros, pájaros, y ratas, infinidad
Incontables: puntos, riachuelos de luz, puntos de luz;
Por mañana, mañana y otro mañana
Tu eres implacable, y yo se que esto es verdad
Y ellos me dicen tú tienes ladrones, y muertes-
Y esto, me atrevo a decir, que esto también es cierto, muy cierto
Pero muéstrame una ciudad de ocho millones contraria --?
Tan viva, tan valerosa, con corazones fuertes y hambrientos:
Digo, muéstrame una que canta en pobreza, y sonríe
Tan buenos como: Picasso, Dali, Rembrant y Yang Yang
Y que recibe al mundo con extendidos brazos
Muéstrame todo esto, o algo de esto, y no diré mas
Desciendo a sus calles, atiborrada, zigzagueantes calles
Así como su raro vecindario con polvo en el aire
Y los numerosos carros de comida, músicos y vendedores de periódicos
Y con su desnuda y desplumadas alas, cubriendo todo
-Mi Lima, Perú, con su renombrada catedral:
Amarilla dorada con su coronadas torres, y
Dentro de su plaza cuadrada, una celebrada pileta
Bajo su piel, con sus arrugados ancianos, tiernas mujeres,
Todos ellos parados altos, y reverenciando a su historia inca, su
Como el sueño de América, ellos fueron los nobles, los reyes
Y ahora de pesadez, y esfuerzo, sudor, lucha, todos, todos extenuados, fatigados, este y cada día, amantes del Rey de los Reyes: Jesucristo-esta es la Lima que conozco, hoy; un poderoso barco que ya navegó los siete mares, ahora descansando?
Author/Poet Dennis Siluk, web site: http://dennissiluk.tripod.com
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There's a lion in London's Trafalgar Square that eats words and roars AI-generated poetry - The Verge
Poetry Competition 2nd Place | 'Small Blues' By Ilyana Kuhling - HeadStuff.org (press release) (blog)
The Valley Of Pain
We were exiled from the Garden of Eden. Its sinless wonders nevermore to regain.
Tale of the: Old Hunter and the Golden Hare [In SPANISH and English now]
There once lived an old man and his goodwife On the edge of the thick of the woods; They lived in an old run-down shack For forty-years and some. The old man hunted for his living, And his wife sewed on her lap.
Four Poems: Grendels Nature...the Racetrack...Counting days...[Now in English and Spanish]
English Version1) Grendel's DivorceYou must know that I do not hateAnd that I hate you, Because everything dead has twoSides; A sound is one arm of the quiet, Ice has its warm half.I hate you in order to start hating you To begin life again And never to stop hating you: That is why I do not hate you yet.
Ole Bulky Jeeps & Paper, Ink and Rain [two Peoms]
Ole Bulky JeepsThrough late summer's heat These bulky shaped jeeps Ride by house and farm City and barn-Hungry for Spring-again, hoping to avoid The Slipping and sliding Of winter's ice and wind?[s]Their weighty legs are dirty From moving dust and rain (Here and there, everywhere) Through all kinds of terrain Like moving clouds caught In the foliage of the woods? They never slow down a ting They have a duty, and give.It's part of how they live- In military-, bulky ole jeeps!.
I WANTED TO SAY IT WITH A BUNCH OF FLOWERS A CARD WOULD HAVE SUFFICED.I WANTED TO SAY IT WITH A PACK OF SWEETS A' HI' WOULD HAVE SUFFICED.
I am not the one I was before yesterday.I cannot go back.
I Saw the Universe
I can see the cerulean blue of the skiesOr the indigo of the nightI can see the stars wink, the grin of the moonDuring the changes of it's monthly face**I am in awe**I see the sun on it's annual trekAlternately awakening the life in the earthAnd then fading away to allow it to sleepUntil the next spring**I am told the Universe is "out there"Beyond those stars, moon and sun,Yet the power of what I can seeIs a fathoming beyond my comprehension**I am in awe**"Out there" no time, no seasons passNo sense of age, hatred or loss existOnly the infinity0f the Universe**What IS "out there"?What IS the Universe that has no end?What IS the power that creates all this?I want to see it too**And then I remember..
The Time Has Come and Buzzing
Most of my poems are written late at night, often, as this one was, after I have turned out the lights to go to sleep. It seems that is the time when I am most creative.
It's dark, it's cold, its' just six thirty,thoughts of sleep still dull my brain,As I huddle down, inside my coat,a commuter clone, just waiting for a train.Insidious rain, just drizzling down,through weak light of creeping dawn,Paper sandwich bags and old coffee cups,blowing past, look so forlorn.
Lord Byrons She Walks in Beauty
Lord Byron's opening couplet to "She Walks In Beauty" is among the most memorable and most quoted lines in romantic poetry. The opening lines are effortless, graceful, and beautiful, a fitting match for his poem about a woman who possesses effortless grace and beauty.
Shaking out the Rugs [Following the Poet]
Let's follow the poet to his Hell and heaven! Count his Ghosts and dilemma's?Reach out to touch his Stretched-out skies; let's follow The poet to see where he lays.Let's follow the poet to his end; To see if he can?whatever He wants to do, do over again?.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning: A Discussion of How Do I Love Thee?
"How Do I Love Thee?" by Elizabeth Barrett Browning was written in 1845 while she was being courted by the English poet, Robert Browning. The poem is also titled Sonnet XLIII from Sonnets From the Portuguese.
Mechanical Poetry - Part Three
Have you ever read the lyrics of a Simon and Garfunkle song? Pure poetry. Want to write poems like that? Start copying them.
Kafka lands resurrected in Crewe deposited by a silvery alien craft, And whilst he is wondering what to do He is asked to show his pass Or pay an instant one off fine At a cash dispenser of his choice And they are checking all the time On his irises face and voice.And of course they find that he is not, They discover he just cannot be there, Although he seems as if he is visible, And has hands and toes and hair, If he is not on the Great Data Bank, He plainly and simply cannot be, He is not listed and he is not ranked He is surely not like you and me.
Three Sweet Poems, and Two Not So Sweet [now in: SPANISH and English]
1) End PoemWherever you are today- Is where you were meant to be; It's where God, dotted the 'i' and the 't'?!2) God's AngelsGod asked his angels: "Why do you look so sad?" Responded one angel: "Sir, we can't find the shade."3) An Empty SpaceOut of wisdom one will wait, travel far for love; the thirst will not kill them.
So many looked to you for inspiration,Unlikely hero for the wheelchair nation.Proudly you fought and proudly you believed,Everyone loved you Christopher Reeve.
Two Poems on the Traditions of Peru [in English and Spanish]
Atahualpa's Game [Peruvian]Sometimes, it's not wise To share your wisdom ---as did, Atahualpa (The Inca King) in the Game of chess; thereafter, He was condemned to death.6/6/05 #713Note: Atahualpa, was the most famous of the Inca Kings, in the 16th century of Peru, I do relieve, and was held for ransom by the Spaniards.
The Man Who Could Not Say Sorry For His Sins
Sorry would be a start.Though you cant take back your mistakes, and you cant unravel time, you'd think there would be remorse, for such a self serving crime, to send others out to die, to pay the blood price you have decreed, when its purely posturing and posing, all about vanity and greed, to secure a perceived niche in history, glowing down the years, is the extent of your ambition, is the puny limit of your fears, when those you have sent to die, believing implicitly in you, leave relatives behind who see, that nothing you said was true, there is no thought now for those, whose number you dont count, they are yesterdays forgotten, though daily they still mount, no thought of resignation, no apology to those left behind, just onward with the ego, fast forward from those times, as if nothing ever happened, as if your lies are quite ok, as if now is what to focus on, and then was another day, lost back in the mists of time, obscured by clouds half seen, not an affront to the living, not impeachable and obscene, you may want to move on now, and ignore your past infamy, but you should be tried for treason, and jailed for blasphemy.
The Plane from Iquitos [1959-Part One]
Iquitos & the Amazon Part OneIt was December 2, l959, I was sitting on a small prop-plane leaving Iquitos, Peru for a trip down the Amazon toward the opening, the mouth of the mighty Amazon,--to Manaus. As we flew low one could see the waters of the Amazon, the city always impressed me, but more from this birds-eye view, you could see the mighty river in its squid like form, with all it tentacles [contributories: waters linking to the river].
Blind Designs [a Poem] and a Note by Rosa on The Other Door
Blind DesignsBorn today, gone tomorrow Like a butterfly with no stomach Born n the morning, dead by night Oh-let me whisper Oh-let me cry What man has not learned? What man will not learn! In his pomposity, his rhetoric With his abstract concepts With his intellect With his creativeness He has become enslaved By-them? By them all, he will fall. Ah! Yes-abstract concepts Bombast and rhetoric His intellect His cleverness This he leaves behind To his decedents!.
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