Lucky... - poetry
You make me smile like I've seldom done before You give me a reason to want more and more. . .
Of you - of us any time - any where It doesn't matter as long as you're there. . .
In your heart and in your soul as much as in mine We have a connection that escapes time. . .
And maybe logic as some ancestors would say But it does not matter if we cannot be us today. . .
Or tomorrow for each one to see because what we share is amid you and me. . .
We cannot turn back time to an added place when our lives were different and we didn't face. . .
The challenges of being together today. . . Our obstacles only lead us to find new ways. . .
To share a exceptional moment or steal a hardly kiss. . . Something so exclusive that many associates miss -
Out on for their full lives Not lucky an adequate amount to find That one anyone who satisfies their body and their mind. . .
We are truly special because we found each other no be of importance how hard it is to be together. . .
Right now atleast - We will find a way to see each other almost every day. . .
Until the time comes when we are free from our past decisions we will still be. . .
One incredible pair of associates who share a distinctive love and friendship too. .
Unlike something most colonize dream of achieving just once in this life it seems. . .
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. bellaonline. com/articles/art8364. asp
The Goat and the Rope [a Poem: in Spanish and English]
The Goat and the Ropewhere there were devils I saw none. nothing.
Four Poems: Garner of Beside yourself Domestic animals [Katrinas Pathway]
Four Poems: Katrina's PathwayHarvest of Beside yourself Horses ((Dedicated to: Katrina)) crisis)It has happened before: Nearby and afar, Where the four-horses of Apocalypse With their burning nostrils Breathed in the fury of the winds Only to vomit out, disaster; - Then galloped away, Against pale faces!..
As I chosen up some of the polished gemstones in the rock store I began to think about what the shingle looked like beforehand they were polished. The store had quite a few rocks on demonstrate presentation the ahead of and after and I realized that but for you knew what you were looking for, you could by a long way pass by a beneficial gemstone.
New Poetic Work By Ethiopian Migrant Promotes Respect, Courage And Cultural Sensitivity
McLean, VA - "The Medicinal Conscious" tells the story of an Ethiopian refugee boy on his fascinating journey to America and adulthood. Dramatist Kifle Bantayehu, a 23 year-old second-generation Ethiopian immigrant, recounts this distressing tale in poetic format.
Never Ever More
Once upon a midnight dreary, coffee cold and eyesight bleary, all night sat there copy COBOL, coding apply diagonally the bed sheets, changing sentence structure for the mainframe, having check my final line, I took the floppy from the drive.Typing with a steady hand, I then invoked the SAVE command, but there below my effectuation, appeared the cryptic communication, "Abort, Retry, Ignore" and naught more.
Shadows of the Andes; Ollantayambo; and Cesar Vallejo [Poems in English and Spanish]
1) Darkness 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 indoors 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 because of the Andes.
The Valley Of Pain
We were exiled from the Patch of Eden. Its sinless wonders nevermore to regain.
Our home was warm in the shade of the trees or when the sun was not upon it.It was built on the side of a hill, near a lake where spirits could be free.
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 eminent of the Inca Kings, in the 16th century of Peru, I do relieve, and was held for liberate by the Spaniards.
Mother, I Dont Mind The Pain
I am among those who know that one never recovers from the loss of one extremely loved. We come to agree to the death and amend our lives - considerably begrudingly, but we do not recover, we survive.
Three Love Poems [all wicked]
Advance: Mr. Dennis Siluk's poetry can have its fire-hearted twists: as with 'Lovers'.
Tale of the: Old Huntsman and the Blond Hare [In SPANISH and English now]
There once lived an old man and his goodwife On the edge of the thick of the woods; They lived in an old run-down shack For forty-years and some. The old man hunted for his living, And his wife sewed on her lap.
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 long drawn out city of illumination Uneven as a crumbled cake, lit up like a Christmas tree-The wakeful city, with its stretched out wingsStretching from the mountains to the sea- Winding all the way through 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 debut in its inky seaInvisible people: cats, dogs, birds, and rats-infiniteUncountable: dots; streams of lit dots, dot-lights; People: walking, talking, sleeping, consumption by the dots People: waiting, killing, robbing, praying, by the dotsFor tomorrow, tomorrow and a further 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 biting 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 grubby air, And hear the laughs of the children; the dogs on roofs Sights of the shoe-shiners: men and boys, in the parksAnd the frequent food carts; -- musicians, paper sellersAnd with its naked featherless wings, casing all-My Lima, Peru with its famous Cathedral:Golden blonde with gigantic 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 labor 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.
Robert Burns Love Poem: A Red, Red Rose
Robert Burns, a poor man, an educated man, and a ladies' man, is agent of Scotland, much like whisky, haggis, bagpipes, and kilts. He lived a life shortened by sore heart disease, 1759-1796, but his life journey all through poverty, informal education, disappointed love, nationalism, and literary and fiscal hit can be identified by all Scots and communal men the world over.
Lifes Too Short
Time goes by to quickly to hold your feelings inside Especially when their so strong even if they don't abide..
Here And There
My eyes opened. I am still alive; Living on world earth.
Looking Out the Rear Window
The funeral rite concluded With the member of the clergy shaking hands, Offering words of comfort I didn't quite understand.The undertakers came forth And summoned pallbearers' four.
Three Poems: Dona Leonors Revenge; The Old Moon; Conventional Sides [All in Spanish/all in English]
1) Doña Leonor's Revenge [1627 AD]Rafael Ortiz's fate Was on the plate Of Doña Leonor'sWhen she arrived In Lima, Peru; To taste revengeFor the beheading Of her husband. And so the plot?was now played out (in an alleyway) As she heartbroken her trout!In SpanishTranslated by Nancy PenalozaLa leyenda de: La venganza de doña Leonor (1627 después de cristo)El destino de Rafael Ortiz Estaba sobre el plato De doña Leonor.
Four Poems: Two for the Devil, Two for Peru
Here is some witty poetry (not sure if that is the accurate 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 big business 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.
Out of the eight poems provided here [all beforehand unpublished], four are Poetic Prose, a few Farsighted [what I call Vsionary anyhow], a few Free Verse, and a few with more form and structure, more close up to the Auden style of: stanza, musical rhythm, and rhyme. In aphorism that, I do consider all the poems are passing on a rich association of meaning, some of them painfully close bond connecting pleasure and destruction.
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