Three sweet poems, and two not so sweet [now in: spanish and english] - poetry
1) End Poem
Wherever you are today-
2) God's Angels
God asked his angels:
3) An Empty Space
Out of wisdom one will wait,
Shyness and fear will not
4) Onto the Mountains
I shall blend-in, into the
of the mountains!
Like a leaf blown far from
To the mountains-
5) Dead Children
I have lost my
You can visit Mr. Siluk's site http://dennissiluk. tripod. com, and see his travels, books, and likes and dislikes; also you can visit most of the internet book dealers, as well as ebay for more in rank on his writtings.
Translated by: Nancy Penaloza
1) Poema final
¡"Dondequiera que tú estés hoy día-
Es donde se propuso estar;
Esto es donde Dios apunto la
"i" y la "t"?!.
2) Los Ángeles de Dios
Dios preguntó a sus ángeles:
3) Un espacio vacío
De la sabiduría uno esperara,
4) Niños Muertos
¿Quién rompe piedras?
Todos excepto uno; y
Nota: Estos cuatro poemas [junto con "la Sombra de Andes",] fueron recientemente publicados por la Revista Ezine; lectores anuales, tres millones [junio y julio de 2005]; y fue leído por más visitantes que cualquier otro poema publicado por aquella revista dentro de aquel período de tiempo.
Mr. Siluk lives in St. Paul, Minnesota, and Lima Peru with his wife, Rosa.
Opposites Do Be a magnet for Quite Well
When I am climbing up, you are stepping down. When I wear a smile, you wear a frown.
Black Blood, in Jeremiahs Vines - A Poem and an Article
Black Blood, in Jeremiah's Vines [A Dream Poem]And I heard the crackling of wood, and I noticed the Lord God had made men of wood, and fire came from his mouth.Then the wind poured its grief upon us-over our sins; and I heard the words for the seventh time, "Go to the mountains!"Foolish associates of this land pray and understand-for He cometh! Thereof, toss manually to thy knees, for the roar of disloyal men will bleed: black blood, because of the vines of Jeremiah.
Walt Whitman, Romance With a Stranger
The hypothesis of brief encounters, even romantic encounters, with a stranger recurs often in the verses of Walt Whitman.Take, for example, these lines from one of the inscriptions that Whitman wrote to his 1860 copy of Plants of Grass.
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 out of the blue exclusive of warning, Nurse Description came calling, shook the earth and stole the ocean from the sand.
Like a cat I slumber, supremely unencumbered, Through eighty per cent of my agreed span, Occasionally awoken, when differ is spoken, And I cook up a further cunning five year plan, Lately it was pensions, that were being mentioned, So I rented from the French and Robespierre, Scrap all that went before, saved by tooth and claw, And let my all equal Citizens appear, Currently it is time, for me to be in my prime, For there is a new determination looming, I have to arrive on the scene sincere, for part of this appearance year, And declare all that all is booming, Never mind accurate quotas, Ive imported multitudes of voters, And told them which party let them stay, Though Ive rigged the postal vote, and defamed all of note, You never know what might come about on the day.So to be on the safe side, I swallow all my pride, And allow my citizens to hear my blessed voice, And roll out the charade, put on the facade, And even make deem they have a choice, Next time about the crown, will be compacted underground, House of Lords and Lord Chancellor history, With the other Chancellor gone, I alone will soldier on, Yes, then there will only ever be me, Ill hold elections for you, as all dictators do, And fill positions with those that oil my palm, As for civil unrest, there is continually house arrest, Or clandestine caging for those that mean me harm.
The Time Has Come and Buzzing
Most of my poems are printed late at night, often, as this one was, after I have curved out the light to go to sleep. It seems that is the time when I am most creative.
A Dose of Laughter
I'm not well. Can't you tell? Kinda low, so, give me a dose of laughter.
Footprints to Mantaro Valley (a poem in Spanish and English)
Footprints to Mantaro Valley (English version)In what flee art hid?-Where diminishing mountains groan In shadow and amongThe fast-moving water of the Rio? Is not your name Mantaro Valley?Beyond the footpath of the Andes--?I can hear your voice in echoesI can hear thy voice, delightfully low. I do but know thy by a glanceAs the clouds above me know? .
Review Of Stephen B. Wileys First Book Of Poetry: HERO ISLAND
Poet Stephen B. Wiley's first book of poetry, Hero Island, reflects tender snapshots and reminiscent overviews of a mixture of stages of his life as a child operational on a farm in New Jersey, summer vacations spent with his children in Northern Vermont, and his categorical stance on life.
Ed Gallagher Dec. 11, 1907 - Sept.
The Lull of Dusk [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 Business of Copan [In English and Spanish]
English VersionThe Trade of Copan [480 AD]Advance: The ballgame at the Honduras patio in Copan, the year was 480 AD, Copan's 3rd ruler, Mat Head, whom succeeded Quetzal Macaw, whom was the creator of the city is now the new ruler. Mat Head, was a female, the next of kin of Quetzal Macaw, and here is where the story begins.
Truth is stranger than fiction according to many colonize who have seen what happens about me and to them, on many occasions. From time to time I have had others assume me in the same way.
House of the Imp [Part Two of Three/with notes]
House of the Goblin [Part Two of Three]Here is where, where the air is stillAnd the mountains dark disappear! Here is where, unmarked spirits dwellWhere harp and recollection expire?Where the rainbow-leaps, from itsStoreroom-keep, and cries; And the sands along the heap coastEcho then die?as in sleep?;And where fascination turns into ghouls!..
Three Poems: The Monkey Man of Lima, Plus Two More
What Hides after the Minute?What hides after the minute? It seems, no one exceedingly knows; How many times will we wakeup, To count the log gone?The rose was dead when I arrived; The sword, was rusty and dull; The chance curtain was open, And there was music in the hall.Oh lovely minute, where art thou? One, is not like the other-: Whirling in an everyday orbit, As the endless world discovers.
Catherine Daly reviews Antidotes for an Alibi
Amy King Antidotes for an Alibi BlazeVox Books ISBN 0-9759227-5-0 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.
Two Poems: Boyhood, and Old Age [with a note on style]
BoyhoodOh me! Thy glorious days have flown! I mealy noticed, now they're gone, How abruptly conceded the flowers! Time does not stop youth's bells; It was like I was in a spell, And my face now shows the hours!Ah yes! My childlike past days, Still lively in my fair-haired age, When all was quick and new Now wrapped in films and books, And acquaintances and children were all I knew And love was shown by forthcoming looks!#741 6/26/05Old AgeThey stop by to see me now To find what's old and new, They peer into my-everything, And assess my views; They tell me what I ought to like, And that I be supposed to be grieved-These are my fragile contacts That takes the strongest liberties?I mean to take the signal off; And put the phone exterior the door; In vain I speak to tell them why -I shan't live here anymore!#742 6/26/05A note on Style: some colonize ask, "What style of poetry to you like the best?" I can never fulfil that question; it is open-ended to me. If I feel like flouting free from tradition as in the poem of: "Old Age," so be it; and if I feel customary verse, a stricter ceremonial arrangement be supposed to be used, as in "Boyhood," and can add completely to the poem, so it is.
Thank You To Our Soldiers And A Acknowledgment To Old Glory And A Prayer For Peace
Thank youDedicated to soldiers and their loved onesFor those who have laid in fox holes,carried guns,marched for hours.For those who have had cold without sleeping nights,endless days of discomfort.
Ode to: The Ice Maiden of Ampatos Apex [now in: English and Spanish]
Dedícate to Antonio Castillo. L.
Rhymes of an Artillery Man [Vietnam War: 1971]
Rhymes of an Armaments 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.
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