The poets area [three poems with a review] - poetry
The Poet's Corner [Three poem/ see appraisal of poetry under the poems]
The Poets Condor
The condor fly's Amongst the hills
In open skies Of San Jerrónimo, Near Huancayo?
Forbidding any To near his path-
Lest he dare To risk a attack, Near Huancayo!. . .
Fate of a Poet
Poets have an great quantity of Consonants A few vowels (for transparency) And no money
They have days and days Of moldy cloths Some displayed In windows?;
In essence, the Poet Has a courtship With the Gordian Knot-; And raw rice for the devil!. . .
Without legends The poet would never have
Been born; The in print dialect would
Not have been invented; And no one would have been Immortalized? .
Review [this assess is on the poet and his three poems, he calls, "The Poet's Corner"]: By Rosa Penaloza: the Ref: the poet Dennis Siluk, a quick look at the poet looking at the poet, as he writes about the poet with poetry, as he informs the reader, poets are looked-for in the world; had they not been, we'd not have a dialect to write. The biographer adds the guts of foreign language to bring up to date the reader: see, we have vowels and consonants; even though he doesn't say it, vowels are the food the poets drink with, and the consonants are the food poets chew with, for it is the vowels we do not use our teeth with to make sounds, fairly consonants, is that not so [?]In any case, the poet adds his first poem to be the '. . . Condor,'out of the three, for good reason, the vowels are echoing: o's and y's and e's; in such a short poem you can't miss them. He also uses the S's in the first verse [three of them] to move the poem briefly by means of and to conceive a casement for the reader.
The Cause lives in Lima, Peru and St. Paul, Minnesota, and has been on TV and in many newspapers a propos his writings. http://dennissiluk. tripod. com
JOINEDHeart beat of man pounding - yet unheard joined becomes the beat of a nation.Words of man written - yet unread joined becomes a proclamation.
Testimony to the Night [In English and Spanish]
In the quiet of the bitter night- In its deep northern skies, Dim are the lights, in its coldEvening frost?! Even the stars of the arctic Seem noiselessly stone frozen!Here, here is where you find Peace and the beast within-! Remote, no ears or wordsTo cover the mind To establish 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 alien peace With an army of stars to defeat Shinning, like a ghost in the darkThe ebbing, eldritch dark; Time has no consequence 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, astonishing peace?Ah! Praise, praise be to thee, to thee Flaming, blistering firmaments-ye, Ye, prompt 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 covert in a storehouse, For tomorrow-war beyond, beyondOrion's dust?perpetual dust; There, there the sun is dim to bleak.
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 Antiquated Rock O'er the mountains steep-:A, vista I've longed to see, residesA site, I've longed to meet-; Thus, dwells, inside this African Valley,Among the most of man's feats? The great, Great Zimbabwe (Enclosure).A million-stones, built these antediluvian 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 eyesight to becomeRich-off Inca blood, In the year-1571?#744 7/1/05Notes: (The Inca Empire): the conjecture is often that the Inca Empire was a large project of its self; a customary blunder at best; convoluted for sure; but for the most part, the Inca Empire was comprised of ethnic groups who were under enemy control into the Inca Empire, comparable to the Roman, which was a city homeland [Empire] you might say, who conquered the whole world into its Roman Empire; likewise, so did the Incas of South America.
Stone Beds [A Poem and an Advance]
Stone Beds [Pompeii's surge]Advance: after the great flare-up of Pompeii's adjacent volcano, Vesuvius, some two-thousand years ago in the glory days of the Roman Empire, what was left of the city were customarily ashes of stone from an unleashing furnace; it is hard to assume what the associates went all through (none, not one being survived). I can only guess from the looks of the city today, and in its early excavations, its citizens were baked alive or asleep, like pottery.
Footprints to Mantaro Valley (a poem in Spanish and English)
Footprints to Mantaro Valley (English version)In what back away art hid?-Where diminishing mountains groan In shadow and amongThe fast-moving water of the Rio? Is not your name Mantaro Valley?Beyond the footsteps 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? .
I am not the one I was already yesterday.I cannot go back.
Life is a Fantasy
LIFE IS A FANTASY!A pink-eyed rabbit, fuzzy whiteHops in bedrooms crammed with frightA child of six with much to knowHer father's basest feelings showShe knows of LOVE, only all the way through himHe satisfies his every whimHe leaves, she wipes himfrom her chin!Her care for NEEDS to see the bestHe answered her God requestTo have a roof to comfort bringA yard where all the birdies singTell me how she could exceedingly knowWhat basis for culture could she go?Her nurse consistently beaten if not worseThe cycle of violence - a woman's curseConflicting visions, dependenciesOne can continue many idiosyncrasiesShe could not make him defendant beDenial, avoidance? she disbelievesThe rabbit hides beneath tall trees.At thirteen a step-grandfatha'Finds a well-trained girl that oughta'Do what athletic men requestNever conscious what is bestAnd run away she does at lastFreedom can be such a 'blast'A rabbit's foot upon a chainThe FANTASY her 'safe' domainHow long in life must it remain?To guard her from these menWho all the time for her lips, do 'yen'A state trooper in Tennessee Like every other man does see Her lips so full and delicious red Through the bars, not in a bed.
Uamaks Water [suspense: now in Spanish and English]
Delicately, my mind was selecting a quiet tune, out of the dead dark empty space surrounding me?I saw a shape on a rock, not sure who it was; I had a sensitivity though, a affection call it, or second-sight; I've heard that before, not sure if I want to put a lot of authority into it, but so be it, the sensitivity and lack of feeling was there. I didn't' sense any chance in the moment, in the moonlit figure, meeting on the rocks, lurking, looking out into the deep.
Ode to: The Ice Maiden of Ampatos Apex [now in: English and Spanish]
Dedícate to Antonio Castillo. L.
Contract of Death [Now: in SPANISH and English]
Contract of DeathI heard today, the cleric say: "Daniel has warned us long ago, Of the trials and problems we Are now facing, with our foes?"He says the 'Antichrist' was now In Europe crying: 'peace,' and the 'Axis of Evil,' had before now placed Hidden Atomic Russian weaponsUnder our feet, here in the good Ole heart of the United States; 'Palestine's cry for peace,' he adds, Is a affluent Gun for Revelation 3:10;America. A 'Contract for Death,' Is what he called it.
Key Largo - Frater Albertus
Key Largo:The fans turn idly in front of the doorThey open wide performance mangroves galoreAn egret in the everglades stalks its preyHaltingly it walks along its wayOn a different brilliant and sunny dayA woman's floppy hat shades her beauty not so brittleThe silky-smooth scarf that holds the hat flutters just a littleShe pauses in the threshold of the doorSurveying what she's looking forShe is looking above-board at meHer beauty flaunted all to see.'Where are you from?' while noticing I had a frownOn the other couch she in a classy manner sits downIn the small hotel lobby bar'A city north and very far.
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.
I Hunted TO SAY IT WITH A BUNCH OF Plant life A CARD WOULD HAVE SUFFICED.I Required TO SAY IT WITH A PACK OF SWEETS A' HI' WOULD HAVE SUFFICED.
Mechanical Poetry - Part Three
Have you ever read the lyrics of a Simon and Garfunkle song? Pure poetry. Want to write poems like that? Start doubling them.
Live For Today...
Isn't that what they say?But what does that mean?There's no clarity that mayanswer that question..
You make me smile like I've seldom done before You give me a reason to want more and more..
Savage Nature: The Life of Ted Hughes
One of the most crucial poets of the post-war period, Edward James Hughes (1930-1998), was drawn towards the primitive. He was charmed by the beauty of the biological world, normally portraying its cruel and savage character in his work as a deliberation of his own not public agony and magic beliefs - certain that advanced man had lost touch with the primal side of his nature.
A Ship to Remember
Three Poems: The Monkey Man of Lima, Plus Two More
What Hides at the back of the Minute?What hides after the minute? It seems, no one actually knows; How many times will we wakeup, To count the follow-up gone?The rose was dead when I arrived; The sword, was rusty and dull; The display 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 illimitable world discovers.
Lima, City with the Stretched out Wings [In English and Spanish]
Lima, City with the Stretched out WingsIt's an ink-black night: no stars: a moon in sightJust dots of: red, green and white-white lightsAs the plane descends, descends, slides down On the long-drawn-out-spun-out lasting city of light Uneven as a crumbled cake, lit up like a Christmas tree-The disturbed city, with its stretched out wingsStretching from the mountains to the sea- Winding because of the valley's, forests, and streams Stretches, stretches its naked wings-endlesslyAs,I'm descending, down, over and about the city (descending, descending, and sliding to the ground)The city with stretched out wings-and endless lights Down, behind, around, the ground, it's immune to me I'm just part of its evening, a induction in its inky seaInvisible people: cats, dogs, birds, and rats-infiniteUncountable: dots; streams of lit dots, dot-lights; People: walking, talking, sleeping, drinking by the dots People: waiting, killing, robbing, praying, by the dotsFor tomorrow, tomorrow and a new tomorrowThey say-:you are ruthless, and I know this to be trueAnd they tell me you have thieves and murders-And this, I dare say-but shall-is also true, very true But show me a city to the converse of eight-million-? I shake my fist and say: '?show me! But no one does'So alive, so brave, with brawny and hungry hearts;I say, show me one that sings in poverty and smiles Prove me one that celebrates year-round of its heroes Show me painters that are as good-that sell on streets-As good as: Picasso, Dali, Rembrandt, and Yang YangAnd that welcomes the world with stretched out arms-Show me all this, or some of this, and I will say no moreWith this,I descend to its streets, its crowed winding streetsAs well as, to its neighborhoods with dust and mucky air, And hear the laughs of the children; the dogs on roofs Sights of the shoe-shiners: men and boys, in the parksAnd the many food carts; -- musicians, paper sellersAnd with its naked featherless wings, cover all-My Lima, Peru with its established Cathedral:Golden fair with immense crowns, andWithin its plaza-square, a water fountain-celebrated.Under its sins, with its furrowed aged men, lovely women,They all stand tall and bow to its Inca history, its glory- Its world that once ruled all, like the Roman Empire,Like the American Dream, they were the noble, the kingsAnd now, from hard work and toil, sweat and strive, all, all Grinding, grinding away, each and everyday, lover of the, King of Kings: Jesus Christ-this is the Lima I know today; a mighty ship that has before now sailed the seven seas, now resting!?Spanish VersionLima, La ciudad con las alas extendidas Translated by Rosa PeñalozaEsta es una noche oscura: no estrellas, ni luna a la vistaSolo puntos: rojo, verde y blanco-luces blancasMientras que el avión desciende, desciende, bajando A la larga-extendida-plana persistente ciudad de luces Plana como un panqueque, encendida como un árbol de navidad-La despierta ciudad, con sus alas extendidasExtendidas desde las montañas hacia el océano Zigzagueante a través de los valles, bosques y riachuelos Estirando, estirando sus alas desnudas-interminablesMientras,Voy descendiendo, abajo, por encima y alrededor de la ciudad (Descendiendo, descendiendo, y deslizándose a la tierra)La ciudad con las alas extendidas-y luces interminables Abajo, Abajo, detrás, alrededor, la tierra, es inmune a mí Sólo soy parte de esta noche, un bautizado en su oscuro océanoInvisible: gente, gatos, perros, pájaros, y ratas, infinidadIncontables: puntos, riachuelos de luz, puntos de luz; Gente: caminando, conversando, durmiendo, comiendo bajo los puntos de luz Gente: esperando, matando, robando, rezando bajo los puntos de luzPor mañana, mañana y otro mañanaEllos dicen--:Tu eres implacable, y yo se que esto es verdadY ellos me dicen tú tienes ladrones, y muertes-Y esto, me atrevo a decir, que esto también es cierto, muy ciertoPero muéstrame una ciudad de ocho millones contraria --? Sacudo mis puños y digo: "?muéstrame," pero nadie lo haceTan viva, tan valerosa, con corazones fuertes y hambrientos:Digo, muéstrame una que canta en pobreza, y sonríe Pruébame una como esa, que celebra alrededor del año a sus héroes Muéstrame pintores tan buenos-que venden en las calles-Tan buenos como: Picasso, Dali, Rembrant y Yang YangY que recibe al mundo con extendidos brazosMuéstrame todo esto, o algo de esto, y no diré masCon esto,Desciendo a sus calles, atiborrada, zigzagueantes callesAsí como su raro vecindario con polvo en el aire Y oigo la risa de los niños, los perros en los techos Vista de los lustrabotas, hombres y muchachos, en los parquesY los numerosos carros de comida, músicos y vendedores de periódicosY con su desnuda y desplumadas alas, cubriendo todo-Mi Lima, Perú, con su renombrada catedral:Amarilla dorada con su coronadas torres, yDentro de su plaza cuadrada, una celebrada piletaBajo su piel, con sus arrugados ancianos, tiernas mujeres,Todos ellos parados altos, y reverenciando a su historia inca, sugloria- Su mundo que una vez gobernó todo, como el Imperio RomanoComo el sueño de América, ellos fueron los nobles, los reyesY ahora de pesadez, y esfuerzo, sudor, lucha, todos, todos extenuados, fatigados, este y cada día, amantes del Rey de los Reyes: Jesucristo-esta es la Lima que conozco, hoy; un poderoso barco que ya navegó los siete mares, ahora descansando?Author/Poet Dennis Siluk, web site: http://dennissiluk.
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