Contract of Death [Now: in SPANISH and English]
Contract of Death
I heard today, the preacher say:
He says the 'Antichrist' was now
Under our feet, here in the good
America. A 'Contract for Death,'
The shivers. But the truth of the
Then, suicide atomic blast!...
Note by Rosa: I do not think Dennis wants to get into preaching, rather he was concerned on how the connections were being made with today's events and the prophet Daniel, whom he has studied, and the preacher was quoting. He of course put into his poetic form. He does it all the time, but doesn't often share it. Kind of watches where it is all leading to, if you know what I mean. So for those who are not biblical, it may not be of interest, and for those who are, the preacher quoted a lot of the book concerning Daniel Chapters 9, 7, and 11. Rosa Penaloza
In Spanish Translated by: Nancy Penaloza
Contrato de Muerte
Lo escuché hoy día, el predicador dijo: "Daniel nos ha advertido hace mucho, de las pruebas y tribulaciones que ahora afrontamos, con nuestros enemigos?"
Él dice que "el Anticristo" está ahora en Europa gritando: "paz", y el "Eje de Mal", ya había colocado armas rusas atómicas ocultas
Bajo nuestros pies, aquí en el viejo buen corazón de los Estados Unidos; "El grito de Palestina por la paz,", añade es un arma cargada para Revelación 3:10;
América. Un "Contrato de Muerte"
Es lo que él lo llamó. ¿"Ahora qué puedo
decir"? Si cambio de canal, consigo Mickey Mouse, si me quedo aquí, consigo
los temblores. Pero la verdad del asunto
es: ¡No estamos nosotros simplemente esperando por el siguiente disparo?
entonces, ¡explosión suicidio atómico!...
See Dennis Siluk's books and travels at his website: http://dennissiluk.tripod.com
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Poetry in motion: enter the world of the 'scrap metal poet' - Journalducameroun.com - English - (press release)
In the Mountans of Haiti [A Poem: in English and Spanish]
In the Mountains of Haiti(In the City)-July is a hot month-sweating Poverty out on every street (In Port de Prince); mixingMemory with desire causes stirring. Not much rain in Haiti (in 1986); Summer kept us busy, building A medical clinic, in the mountains?.
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.
I Hate The Wait (Weight)
I get up in the morningAnd want to stay in bedOh, so nice and warmLike fresh from the oven bread.My day is oh so busyI wish that I could stayIn the quiet of my houseIf only I could play.
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.
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.
Five Mixed Poems, with Notes [now is Spanish and English]
1.Night in Jamaica [Peruvianism: 1810]It was a rainy night they say When don Simon Bolivar Slept in the arms of beautiful -Luisa Crober (of Jamaica); thus an Assassin missed his mark When he stabbed Major Amestoy Sleeping in the dark In Bolivar's hammock!.
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.
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.
Song of the Great Zimbabwe, and Silver and Inca Blood [Poems and notes]
"Song of the Great Zimbabwe"Across the African, winter's skyIn the Southern edge of Zimbabwe Looking down from the Hill ComplexFrom on top, of an Ancient Rock O'er the mountains steep-:A, vista I've longed to see, residesA site, I've longed to meet-; Thus, dwells, within this African Valley,Among the greatest of man's feats? The great, Great Zimbabwe (Enclosure).A million-stones, built these ancient wallsSome twelve-fathoms, fathoms high That seems to reach unto the sky;Some say: a fortress, and palace, it is; And perhaps-, the legendary 'Ophir!'#747 7/2/05Silver and Inca BloodIn the Great Silver mines of Potosi-(Inca Indians) Conscripted mine workersCarry Quotas of ore-up hundreds of feetOf rope laddered-steps For don Francisco de ToledoAnd King Philip II, of Spain-;A farcified vision to becomeRich-off Inca blood, In the year-1571?#744 7/1/05Notes: (The Inca Empire): the assumption is often that the Inca Empire was a large enterprise of its self; a common mistake at best; complicated for sure; but for the most part, the Inca Empire was comprised of ethnic groups who were subjugated into the Inca Empire, similar to the Roman, which was a city nation [Empire] you might say, who subjugated the whole world into its Roman Empire; likewise, so did the Incas of South America.
Four Poems: Harvest of Apoplectic Horses [Katrinas Pathway]
Four Poems: Katrina's PathwayHarvest of Apoplectic Horses ((Dedicated to: Katrina)) crisis)It has happened before: Nearby and afar, Where the four-horses of Apocalypse With their flaming nostrils Breathed in the fury of the winds Only to vomit out, disaster; - Then galloped away, Against pale faces!..
Write Your Way to Fame
Have you ever thought about how nice it would be to see your poem discussed in the New York Times? Think you have what it takes to become a famous poet? Well the unfortunate truth is that no one has what it takes to be a famous poet. Here's a little exercise: Name the most famous contemporary poet you can think of.
Memoirs of a Wastelands Rim [a Poem: now in Spanish and English]
Memoirs of a Wasteland's RimIt still was light when she paused at the wasteland's rim- Over, the rim rest like a sleeping brute, a wooden frame Adjacent to the blue where early stars hung like oil lamps Hanging from old beams and shade?the wooden frame Her footing caught the beams, as she had fallen onto it Alone, she watched the forenoon, climbing around her A drifter woman, marked by life, and slanting dreams With appearance of hurt and molded muscle on her face Her figure etched against the wooden frame, She tried to jump, and lost her balance, hanging like a bird Now sipping the gloom in the ledge and shattered hopes She yielded before the sluggish advance of sunset Blood dripped, with her dying darkness And a crimson moon hurled a flame across The shadowy clouds, burning throughout the sky The tormented sky above her?Crossing the valley's floor her eye gripped it Rocky images, highest points Thrusting herself up boldly from to the ledge The painted morning blushed over the rim Her brows and nose, face against the granite stone Massive injuries was taking form, Her silhouette floating so indolently across the sun It was too great a task-to die alone?she wished now She had not jumped?a thousand feet below, yet to go. Too much for any woman in a lost world Out of the weak wood her mind had peace; She knew soon it would all be over-alas Mute and protesting against life's uselessness A narrow path lay below her slender body Between death and attainment, a careless foot The rocks beneath her weakening, she plunged Plunged to her death, in the carving hands of the valley Thinking of it, as she fell, thinking with a smiled, Saying, looking up-dead before her echoes: 'Time is short?time is short?time is short!' When they found her, her face was unafraid of falling.
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.
Ode, to the Mighty Midget Omac [In English and Spanish]
Part One Midget HistoryI am thirty-six inches tall, that is all-Honest to god I am My hair is green, my eyes red, and IHave a very thick neckMy eyebrows are thin, and my beardHas three hairs? And I bore abuse, when I was youngYes! It happened to be; day by day??folks laugh at me, my appearanceYou see?I make them appalled. .
I never thought I would have to say GOODBYE to my best friend? But that's what I had to do today I had to let go of her forever -There was no other way For me to face reality Or pretend to be okay I had no concept -Of how hard it would be To actually let go Of this huge part of me? Not tomorrow or ever -Will my life be the same Without my Grannio here Life seems to be a game - Of chance and questions?Questions that never end And have no answers That can begin to mend The gaping hole inside of meNor come close to healing My heart and soul that Seem to be feeling Lost, numb and empty-Completely hollow? Like I have nobody left To really follow - Through life with respectShe was so much more Than my Grandmother I knew that before She left this earthAnd I told her so More than once or twice Because she had to know Just how very special -And truly blessed I felt to have her as my friend She was the best Without a doubt -My Grannio gave me More than anybody Will ever really see? It was an unspoken -Kind of love That came with no conditions And went far above The normal caringAnd average support For a grandchild - Or family of any sort She gave more of herselfTo me than anyone In my life ever will Nobody could have done What she did for meWith so much devotion, Absolute honesty And true emotion? Her loyalty was -Sincerely undying I realize so much Now that I'm crying - And wishing thatI had just one more day To spend holding her hand And trying to take away Her fears and her pain -That took over her Body and her mind Like never before? In our lives -I would have sincerely Given 20 years of my life To have her merely Be here tomorrow -I cannot explain The way I feel today Or how much I pain Is inside of me -That will never go away No matter how much time passes I know this ache will stay With me forever?Just as her special touch Will always be with me And mean so very much - To me and my son?Jakob Thomas Her "BabyDoll" And I promise To never forget -What she would have done If she was still here For him - her only one Great-grandchild?Resource Box - © Danielle Hollister (2004) is the Publisher of BellaOnline Quotations Zine - A free newsletter for quote lovers featuring more than 10,000 quotations in dozens of categories like - love, friendship, children, inspiration, success, wisdom, family, life, and many more. Read it online at - http://www.
A Happiness Poem
If a happiness poem could bring forth a smile, Then my face would always dress in style.If my ears could hear my computer screen, From one to another, they, too, would grin.
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.
The Ballad of: Brawling Mad-dog Sergeant Rook [Now in: SPANISH and English]
English VersionA bunch of us guys in the hutIn ?Nam Were playing cards, singing songs; In a solo-room, back of the hut Lay mad-dog, Sergeant Rook;And watching from a distance Was his sidekick, Corporal Cook.When out of the night, he wantedTo fight This bully of six-foot-two Dog-drunk, smelling like a skunkI wanted to fight him too.
Shadows of the Andes; Ollantayambo; and Cesar Vallejo [Poems in English and Spanish]
1) Shadows of the Andes [or: Song to the Andes]I shall blend-in, into theMountains- Into the faintest thinShadowsof the mountains! Like the moss on moistenedStoneLike a leaf blown far fromHome?(freshly fallen)!I shall blend-in, clingingTo the mountains- Into its faintest thinShadowsNote: when I arrived back home from Peru, my 7th trip in five years [April, 2005], I had spend about 30-days this time on the trip. I visited the Mantaro Valley, Huancayo, and drove through the Andes.
In Poetry: Meaning of Words [And ...Rocket-belt]
In Poetry: Meaning of WordsWhen I write poetry, I check out the meaning of words for too often they sound the same, but once written, and if spelled wrong, in consequence, give a complete different meaning of what I had intended; this I call a moment of damage control. If my rhyme is flat, and my cadence is off, so what, I can survive, as long as the meaning of my words are not; and are as I meant them to be.
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