Stone Beds [A Poem and an Advance]
Stone Beds [Pompeii's surge]Advance: after the great flare-up of Pompeii's adjoining volcano, Vesuvius, some two-thousand years ago in the halcyon days of the Roman Empire, what was left of the city were by and large ashes of stone from an unleashing furnace; it is hard to dream what the ancestors went because of (none, not one being survived). I can only guess from the looks of the city today, and in its early excavations, its colonize were baked alive or asleep, like pottery.
Testimony to the Night [In English and Spanish]
In the quiet of the cold night- In its deep northern skies, Dim are the lights, in its coldEvening frost?! Even the stars of the arctic Seem like a ghost stone frozen!Here, here is where you find Peace and the beast within-! Remote, no ears or wordsTo disorder the mind To ensconce the throat; Here, here is where you die?(for a moment).Here, the sky has eternal eyes Eyes with cosmic tides Tides that never rest: they warWith the Universe- Likened to a dark deep abyss; Endless and never resting?Here my eyes seek and search In countless hours, ebbing and Sweeping the heavens aboveNumbing, changeless- Are the cosmos, the heavens? Here resides a alien peace?Here, resides a bizarre peace With an army of stars to defeat Shinning, mutely in the darkThe ebbing, eldritch dark; Time has no bearing here, Here, resides a strange, peace?Cold and oddly numb are my feet, As I look up, upon the many bridges One star bridging the next-as if,If Kings and Queens were Guarding them-the Hosts- O-Yes! A strange, curious peace?Ah! Praise, praise be to thee, to thee Flaming, furious firmaments-ye, Ye, be reminiscent me not, of the wars I left,Of the foes, divine immortals?The enemies that never rest Ah! Praise, praise be to thee, to theeI hear music, harmony from afar (there) There are storms buried in a storehouse, For tomorrow-war beyond, beyondOrion's dust?perpetual dust; There, there the sun is dim to bleak.
Two Poems, with Allegorical Language
Says Mr. Dennis Siluk, when asked to analysis his poetry somewhat, for he hesitates all the time when I ask him to so; I can tell you.
A Poem - By Lorraine KemberIt was a day like any other and mother, father, sister, brother, were hauling out the customs of their land. When abruptly lacking warning, Protect Character came calling, shook the earth and stole the ocean from the sand.
Sleep, Dreams, and a Poem
The Incubus' Flash-lightHe looked exclusive my head And found a dreamHe didn't like-;As I looked back at him, I found an incubus Shinning a light(and stole this poem from him-last night).Thoughts: Dreams and Poetry: in dreams we let go of our inhibitions; in poetry we write them back out.
It Was Not Me
It was not me as I am now. It was not me as I was then.
AFRICA (to africans in diaspora)africa here i come, africa africa of the black soul the soul of an antediluvian civilization the background of your timid tribes.its your voice i hear africa your voice of the conversation drums your beaded drums and the royal trumpeter the metal gong of your town crieri have come to see your music dance i have heard of your everlasting minstrels have i not heard of your alternation hips! i have heard an adequate amount of and have come to watch wouldn't you dance for me africaafrica here i come africa would you not show me to your tribes the timid tribes of your sickly tongues the diverse tongues of your moral menafrica, black soul africa tell me about your gods your gods of the sky and of the nurse earth your gods of the hills and of the rivers aboundshow me to your kings africa your kings of the antediluvian dynasty the antediluvian family of rusted spear and shield africa, here i come africaHEAVENLY GUESTheavenly guest heralding thunderously in its own awake pelting on men as well, the gods gathering itself drop by drop.
Ode to: The Ice Maiden of Ampatos Brow [now in: English and Spanish]
Ded�cate to Antonio Castillo. L.
Take some time to stop and look at nature. Pick up a rock or two and think about where it might have in progress out and what it might have gone because of to end up where you found it.
Ed Gallagher Dec. 11, 1907 - Sept.
The Botch of Lima and Footpath to Mantaro Valley (Two Poems)
Footprints to Mantaro Valley (Peru; in English and Spanish)In what back away art hid?-Where declining mountains groan In shadow and amongThe white water of the Rio? Is not your name Mantaro Valley?Beyond the path of the Andes--?I can hear your voice in echoesI can hear thy voice, exquisitely low. I do but know thy by a glanceAs the clouds above me know? .
The King and Delka & Moiromma: the Cold Earth [Parts 25 and 26]
#25The King and Delka [Split Mawkishness-on Moiromma /Part V]Sickly SentimentalityI have wanted out friends Only to find rawness Of their passion; And the equality Of their vision.Who out there can know My analytical verve?(Only the long dead)By King Moir I[Of Moiromma]Ah! the meaningless outer space come back to his mind as he stands on his gallery looking up into he eerie dark.
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 covert in thy heartSo many paths, a maze of art?In thy old, Mantaro ValleyWhere adobes, breathe and tremble Beyond your bucolic shadowsThere lays the prettiest of brooksIs my heart, surrounded by its stream!My image genuinely carved, rippledIn its neat shallow watersWaiting, just behind you for me?As it opens up, opens up my soulMy rippled soul-searching-eyes!..
Have you ever skilled fascination with a big shot you know is not a good match for you? Or how about an attractive association that roots itself deep in your memory..
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 illustrious of the Inca Kings, in the 16th century of Peru, I do relieve, and was held for payment by the Spaniards.
Beautiful Dreamer, Stephen Foster, Americas First Folk Song Writer
"Beautiful Dreamer" was in print by Stephen Bring up just beforehand his death in 1864 at age 37. The song became one of his most famed and most popular.
Four Poems: Two for the Devil, Two for Peru
Here is some witty poetry (not sure if that is the apposite 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 procedures that are said to take place; and two poems industry 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.
The Dead God of Copan (in English and Spanish)
English VersionAnd the Death God said: "Let it rise to its glory in the Rio Valley-for a season; then let it be gone, we shall call it Copan?"Prologue: Empires come and go, liken to cosmic events, or the storms about the world: Atlantis, Mu, Greece, Persia, Rome, the Inca Nation, and even the great Maya heroic times of Copan, in Chief America. All came and all left, one way or another; now just dust and artifacts in the spiral of time.
THe Monster Mash, A Burial ground SMASH (short story I wrote when I was 11)
The Monster Mash The Cemetery SmashHave you heard of the Monster Mash? I consider 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.
Rules for Characters Poetry
You've been inscription poetry since that first assignment in your high discipline characters class. You know the rules about journalism poetry, right? Are there rules? Well, if you common the poetry forums diagonally the Internet as much as I do, you'd find that there are a lot of amateur poets who fixedly assert that there are no rules for journalism poetry and if a big shot even suggests appraisal poetry or books on poetry, many of the amateur poets will throw up a defending front.
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