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.
Ode, to the Mighty Midget Omac [In English and Spanish]
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.
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.
Two Poems and an Analysis ['Witness,' & 'An Old Love']
Two Poems and an Analysis ['Witness,' & 'An Old Love']WitnessMy face belongs to whoever sees it
Everything has a meaning but life
Even the bugs strive for existence
God saved man, from God
Ghosts have lonely sins
Her bones are stones
Up and down the hill
I can not
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.
To My Friend, With Love
All is still; all quiet;
The world seems to be at peace.
My soul is singing its rhythmic melody
And I'm led like in a trance to write its tunes.
San Francisco [Almost a Sonnet]
(The city by the bay of Northern California, near which the Pacific Ocean resides; the year is 1967)Mid October seemed like some spring day,When through the poised waters, dry as lead,
The ferry, like vague shadows that stand the dead,Slipped down the curved coast of Frisco bay,
Rounded the Golden Gate,-and San Francisco lay,
Before me, that gay city, pink and red,
Hippies covered Haigh Asbury's homeless head,-My home, to be, I found stirring and grey.The waves busted on the wooden-sides; fishermenNearby with long necks, looked and cast again.
Five Poems from Home [And a view on the planet vs. the poet]
Five Poems from Home1) Remembering: Dorothy Parker
[Dedicated to the 1920s Poetess]Let it be said,
Dorothy Parker lies dead,
cremated to ash and poetry; thus,
she died at the ripe old age
of seventy-three-.The tiny woman with a big mouth,
who got caught in the rain
and couldn't get out:
continued to play the game,
all the same,
like drops of rain
upon a pane.
Four Poems: Two for the Devil, Two for Peru
Here is some witty poetry (not sure if that is the proper word: witty, but it will do): one poem on the Aztec year 2012, a year that has been in the public's eye quite a lot; one on cloning, and the biblical end time events--which, if I may add seems ripe for the monster events that are said to take place; and two poems dealing with some tradtions of Peru; one imparticular, on vacationing, where not to go; all the makings for some thought.Aztec BabyOn December 25, 2012 AD
The Devil had an idea-
He'd clone himself
In the form of a baby;
Called the Antichrist.
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.
Poetry in Turbulence
To many non-specialists of literature, poetry is deeply unsatisfying. There are several reasons for this, but two in particular come to mind.
Mechanical Poetry; Part Two
What do you do when you want to write poetry? I hope your answer is "I start writing." Even writing a bad poem is better than waiting for the "right words.
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
(of Jamaica); thus an
Assassin missed his mark
When he stabbed Major Amestoy
Sleeping in the dark
In Bolivar's hammock!.
Two Poems on the Traditions of Peru [in English and Spanish]
[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.
Two Poems: San Jeronimo Brook & [in English and Spanish]
Fair Andes! Thy arms reach highOf iron-woven solid stone
Thu art a condor to the skyOf glory hidden in thy heartSo many paths, a maze of art?In thy old, Mantaro ValleyWhere adobes, breathe and tremble
Beyond your rustic shadowsThere lays the prettiest of brooksIs my heart, within its stream!My image deeply carved, rippledIn its undiluted shallow watersWaiting, just waiting for me?As it opens up, opens up my soulMy rippled soul-searching-eyes!..
More Articles from Poetry Information:
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Notable poetry of 2017Chicago TribuneFor the fifth consecutive year, a gathering of some poetry that caught my ear in the preceding twelvemonth — not the “best,” not even necessarily my favorites (the only reason Anthony Madrid's “Try Never” isn't here is that he's a friend). Just some ...
Poetry's Not Dead, And Here Are Books To Help Appreciate ItNPROur poetry reviewer, Tess Taylor, received a stack of books over the course of this year to help encourage reading poetry. She began reading skeptically, but grew to love two of them: Why Poetry by Matthew Zapruder and A Little Book on Form by Robert ...
The Robots Are Here to Write PoetryAtlas ObscuraFor almost 200 years, humans have been outsourcing the task of writing poetry—fitting fragments of the human experience into a mosaic of thrill and despair—to machines. In addition to hammering our thoughts out on keyboards, we've also relinquished ...
The Colorado Independent
News Poetry: (Survivors)The Colorado IndependentPeople are always asking me how I am, apparently expecting me to know. I don't say: the illusion of honesty can build the most impressive wall. I am a chain-link fence. Everyone sees the whole—not the holes. I am trying to pinpoint when I decided it ...
Local Poetry Group Publishes ChapbookThe MissourianA group of Franklin County poets has published its first chapbook, featuring the work of eight area authors. “Three Rivers Reflections,” a 40-page soft cover book, will be distributed to all area libraries. Pacific resident Jo Schaper designed and ...
'The Poetry of Presence'The Daily PlanetWatching and listening is, in my estimation, the ideal way to appreciate poetry, a form of artistic expression that was originally sung before it migrated into the realm of prose. Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer — a co-founder and co-director of the Talking ...
A Ship to Remember
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.
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.
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.
Im Sorry Mom! A Mothers Day Poem
Mother's Day Poetry,I'm Sorry Mom!I'm sorry for the troubles
And the worries I brought you.
I'm sorry for my mistakes,
I didn't mean to make you blue.
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?.
You cannot make someone love you. All you can do is be someone who can be loved.
How I wonder what he's doing
as I sit alone at night.
How I wonder who he's seeing
How I wonder if I'm right.
Catherine Daly reviews Antidotes for an Alibi
Antidotes for an Alibi
2005These poems read to me like poetry versions of flash fiction. Now, I like flash fiction very much, but I like the more fabulistic kind.
Rhymes of an Ordnance Man [Vietnam War: 1971]
Rhymes of an Ordnance Man
[Vietnam War: 1971]An eleven part poem
By Dennis L. SilukI had went to Vietnam at the age of 23 , and it was most interesting, there were 205,000 troops there when I arrived.
Article on Poetry and Two Poems
Writing Poetry for TomorrowWhat does a man need to be a poet, or tomorrow's literary giant? Questions many a student has asked, from Harvard all the way to the community college in one's hometown. What is the answer? Well, I can give you mine, and I'm sure if you asked a hundred writers, or a hundred scholars, you'd get two hundred different answers.
Lifes Too Short
Time goes by to quickly
to hold your feelings inside
Especially when their so strong
even if they don't abide..
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
With their flaming nostrils
Breathed in the fury of the winds
Only to vomit out, disaster; -
Then galloped away,
Against pale faces!..
Top 20 Poetry Quotations
Explore the meaning of poetry and the motivation of poets with this special collection of evocative quotations..
THe Monster Mash, A Graveyard SMASH (short story I wrote when I was 11)
The Monster Mash
The Graveyard SmashHave you heard of the Monster Mash? I suppose you know the story of how it came to be, right? Well, I'm here to tell the TRUE story to you.It sarted out late one night, when all monsters where out of human sight.
The King and Delka & Moiromma: the Cold Planet [Parts 25 and 26]
#25The King and Delka
[Split Mawkishness-on Moiromma /Part V]Sickly SentimentalityI have sought out friends
Only to find rawness
Of their passion;
And the uniformity
Of their vision.Who out there can know
My cerebral verve?(Only the long dead)By King Moir I[Of Moiromma]Ah! the aimless cosmos come back to his mind as he stands on his balcony looking up into he eerie dark.
Opposites Do Attract Quite Well
When I am climbing up, you are stepping down.
When I wear a smile, you wear a frown.
Stone Beds [A Poem and an Advance]
[Pompeii's surge]Advance: after the great eruption of Pompeii's nearby volcano, Vesuvius, some two-thousand years ago in the heyday of the Roman Empire, what was left of the city were mostly ashes of stone from an unleashing furnace; it is hard to imagine what the people went through (none, not one person survived). I can only guess from the looks of the city today, and in its early excavations, its people were baked alive or asleep, like pottery.
Two Poems and a Short Story
1)dying in the bar
I would crawl too
upto the bar,
it was everything, the dampness
the carved wood
the zoned-out-ness in my head
dreaming; it was better than death?
then I took another drink?so many
I never moved much, like dead fish.
my head split like an ass
it was numb and, nothing else
numbness was my homeacross the street, dancing
on the patio
the moon was out.
Robert Burns Love Poem: A Red, Red Rose
Robert Burns, a poor man, an educated man, and a ladies' man, is representative of Scotland, much like whisky, haggis, bagpipes, and kilts. He lived a life shortened by rheumatic heart disease, 1759-1796, but his life journey through poverty, informal education, disappointed love, nationalism, and literary and financial success can be identified by all Scots and common men the world over.