Five Mixed Poems, with Notes [now is Spanish and English]
Night in Jamaica
It was a rainy night they say
Love for love
Epitaph in El Dorado
Ride high, ride high
There upon a cliff
His madden brain
And so it was
Epitaph of a Shoeshine Boy
I cannot sleep, I cannot sleep
The earth is warm under my feet;
I cannot sleep, I cannot sleep
Whereas, I walk alone again
Note: When I was a boy of 11 to 13, I used to go from bar to bar in St. Paul, Minnesota and shoeshine (l958-61). I made money that way, until I was 14-years old, at which time I worked for what is now the "Fitzgerald Theater"; where Garrison Keillor (whom I met twice) has his show, "A Prairie Home companion."
Ah! Last night it was a night
I so love the wild rain
Note: It rained out last night (a storm), in St. Paul, Minnesota, USA; 3:30 AM. My mother used to be frightened by such storms, but I cherished them it seems; odd are we not, so different in what we value. #721 6/8/05
Cinco poemas Mixtos, con apuntes
Noche en Jamaica
Esta fuè una noche lluviosa ellos dicen
asesino fallò su blanco
Amor por amor
Alto al Paseo, alto al paseo
Allí sobre una roca
Su cerebro enfurecido
Y entonces fuè
Estoy harto de este poema
No puedo dormir, no puedo dormir
La tierra està caliente bajo mis pies;
No puedo dormir, no puedo dormir
Mientras que, ando solo otra vez
Nota: Cuando yo era un muchacho de 11 a 13, solía ir de bar en bar en Saint Paul Minnesota y lustraba botas (l958-61). Gané dinero de esta manera, hasta que yo tuve 14 años, en el cual trabajé para lo que es ahora el " Teatro Fitzergerald "; donde la Guarnición Keillor (con quien me encontré dos veces) tiene su espectáculo, " A Praire home companion"
¡Ah! Anoche esto fue una noche
Nota: llovió afuera anoche (una tormenta), en Saint Paul, Minnesota, EE. UU; a las 3h30. Mi madre solía estar asustada por tales tormentas, pero yo los abrigue eso parece; extraños somos nosotros , tan diferentes en lo que valoramos.
Poet Dennis Siluk http://dennissiluk.tripod.com the book, "Spell of the Andes," is almost ready for the public, got a note today saying it is going to press...this is the best of Dennis' poems on Vietnam and Peru, and Copan, Honduras Rosa
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âHygienic Egg 2018: a focus on the Poetry of Deathâ brings dance, song and poetry to New London - theday.com
now is not the time to open open that great door again not the time to be more tolerant not the time to play to winnow is not the time for justice evolution mercy choices not the time to pet the puppies yipping with pathetic voicesnow is not the time for kindness not the time for compromise not the time for loving blindness not the time to close my eyesnow for one too many people not that i have gained no good heart has sown but flesh is reaping tears to mind and wasted bloodnow my inner wolf seeks equals only those whose chords can howl deadly whether lone or social defending young or on the prowltell me not that you would die upon the spines of my displeasure live for me and for you will i cherish each cell as if a treasureput me not inside a cage but roam with me through snow and sun be by my side or breathe my dust for i shall bleed again for noneNiki Lasher Artist, Writer, and Webmatron http://www.kthulah.
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.
The Lull of Twilight [Over Mantaro Valley] In English and Spanish
Twilight, was now beginning. As forthe sun, it was down-down over the Mantaro Valley of Peru.
The Merchant of Copan [In English and Spanish]
English VersionThe Merchant of Copan [480 AD]Advance: The ballgame at the Honduras courtyard in Copan, the year was 480 AD, Copan's 3rd ruler, Mat Head, whom succeeded Quetzal Macaw, whom was the founder of the city is now the new ruler. Mat Head, was a female, the spouse of Quetzal Macaw, and here is where the story begins.
You can do and you can be whatever you want. You have the power, and the right, to make the changes.
The Last King of Mars [A Poetic Mytho]
[As Told by the Last] King: it was in the year 23,700 BC that one of the two moons of earth was hit by a meteor that of which, a great part of the moon broke off and hit earth's surface with a devastating impact. Thus the solar system absorbed a cataclysm in unimaginable proportions, from Jupiter to Mars; knocking Earth out of its 100,000-year Ice Age.
JOINEDHeart beat of man pounding - yet unheard joined becomes the beat of a nation.Words of man written - yet unread joined becomes a proclamation.
The Treasure of Catalina Huanca (In English and Spanish)
Note: written after seeing the little adobe 16th century church San Sebastian, in San Jeronimo, by the mountains of Huancayo, Peru, after being taken there by the Wandering Quechua guide, Enrique (4-13-2005).The Treasure of Catalina HuancaWritten by Dennis L.
Tsunami -a Poem Dedicated To Help Aid and Awareness and Encourage Future Harmony. Make Peace Not War
Real Power.One Tsunami, and all our armies, Seem belittled by their wars, What Animals fled, and tribesmen read, Finally Arrives with crushing roar, Wholesale slaughter, purely by water, Makes us seem an irrelevance, Concepts of power, change by the hour, Faced with primal elements.
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.
The Crusader: A Search for the Virtue Inside (an excerpt of an Epic Poem)
On through the darkness she searches the bones Seeking the hand of her love; Deep in the stillness, the maid searches on, Petitioning help from above. Onward she gropes through the flesh and the blood Of the warriors disfigured and maimed; She carries no hope for the life of her love - For naught but his body she came.
Feelings, O How Glorious!
Sometimes we feel hard-pressed, Our backs against the wall; Sometimes we feel lightheaded, As if we are going to fall.Sometimes we feel fierce anger At those who misuse guns; Sometimes we feel ashamed Of how we treat God's little ones.
Two Poems with Triggers [and a commentary]
So Many Einstein'sThe morning mist, insists there is a God. The earth remains faithful to its orbit.
Give Me a Lily Pad & The Continuum [two Poems]
What can I do to keep this world in its orbital spin? I gave up trying to win the hearts of the many-. Throw the meat-balls against the wall, stop, stop!! Trying to make them spin, like God did in the heavens!Sexual longings-a pathway to anger and rage- Turn the page to the cheap hotels, turn the page Give it a pathway to run, tell your friends, they've won.
Our home was warm in the shade of the trees or when the sun was not upon it.It was built on the side of a hill, near a lake where spirits could be free.
Antidotes for an Alibi
Amy King's first full-length collection, Antidotes for an Alibi, insists that we examine the deceptive clarity of our actions and the goals that motivate us. How does one actually get from "A" to "B"-and is there ever really a "B"? What color is the white space between "A" and "B"? Upon closer inspection, surface realities reveal themselves to be porous and fragile, layered with textures and grains that lead the eye on varying pathways.
The Art of Receiving Poetic Critique
You can show your poem to your mom, your spouse, your co-workers, or your friends, but you might not get the responses that you can suck up into your little writing fingers to use in an effort to refine your craft. What does it really mean when someone who cares about you, but not for poetry says, "Wow, this is great.
Three Love Poems [all wicked]
Advance: Mr. Dennis Siluk's poetry can have its fire-hearted twists: as with 'Lovers'.
Ode To Quetzalcoatal [Now in Spanish and English]
Ode to QuetzalcóatlQuetzalcóatl the GreatNo one knew his true name, so they Called him Quetzalcóatl-feather Serpent He and his crew of nineteen: faces Strange faces, images of a prince, a lord: King of the Yucatan in the year 986 ADHe was a tall man; long cloths, sandals; White as day, with a long beard, black hair. Some say red: some don't say? But they called him priest, Lord, king Amongst many things: god!.
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!.
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