Two poems and an chemical analysis [?witness,? & ?an old love?] - poetry
Two Poems and an Assay ['Witness,' & 'An Old Love']
My face belongs to whoever sees it
An Old Love
Around the world from me
?for equipment I've yet to see-
And where my feelings are
Analysis: I was asked the other day to do a verbal and quick chemical analysis for a poem. It can be a terrifying experienced, exceptionally if the character is a friend. What do you say? Like it or not, it is a sensible thing to do, and have done. And I've had a few hundred of my poems analyzed, poked at, chewed up; thus, when asked to examine a poem, I do it with great care. But I do accomplish I am not going to be part of the cause to something other than my own assiduous response. Well this poem baffled me and that was not good, but I deliberate the poem well after he left, I could only give him a few pieces of my belief prior to his leaving. I did afterwards mark phrases that trapped my attention, good and bad, belongings that were conspicuous or difficult, and where the focus was lost. I do trust my intuition, so that is one good thing.
There are three equipment I try to look at 1) the drive of the poem, as I appreciate it to be 2) the chief prominence (problems and concerns, etc), and 3) imagery, tone, meter and so forth, while at the same time annoying not to cheapen the poetic air the poem is annoying to give. But then, I do not do assay but on a few exclusive occasions other personnel poetry, for I have a hard a sufficient amount time doing my poetry. But I brain wave a few annotations might be worth mentioning. I guess, if I like the poem, I just like it, period. The Author
Here are two more poems, both assorted in their focus, poetic emphasis; both short poems, but an adequate amount to give a distinctive effect. The tone is of exclusive importance. An chemical analysis comes along with the two poems, not on Mr. Siluk's poems, for that is for a big cheese else to do, but on how he looks at times on other poems, recognizing the amalgamation of altered elements. --Rosa Penaloza
Poet/Author Dennis Siluk http://dennissiluk. tripod. com
Key Largo - Frater Albertus
Key Largo:The fans turn slothfully in front of the doorThey open wide viewing mangroves galoreAn egret in the everglades stalks its preyHaltingly it walks along its wayOn a different brainy and sunny dayA woman's floppy hat shades her beauty not so brittleThe glossy scarf that holds the hat flutters just a littleShe pauses in the threshold of the doorSurveying what she's looking forShe is looking as the crow flies at meHer beauty flaunted all to see.'Where are you from?' while noticing I had a frownOn the other couch she pleasingly sits downIn the small hotel lobby bar'A city north and very far.
Footprints to Mantaro Valley (a poem in Spanish and English)
Footprints to Mantaro Valley (English version)In what departure art hid?-Where diminishing 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 Game of Life
When your life becomes unbearable And the light of agree ceases to glow, When all your dreams and aspirations Lie latent on ambition's death row.When you feel that all is hopeless, Life troubles just seem to abound.
Tsunami -a Poem Dyed-in-the-wool To Help Aid and Awareness and Egg on Coming Harmony. Make Peace Not War
Real Power.One Tsunami, and all our armies, Seem belittled by their wars, What Animals fled, and tribesmen read, Finally Arrives with crushing roar, Wholesale slaughter, absolutely by water, Makes us seem an irrelevance, Concepts of power, alter by the hour, Faced with ancient elements.
Little Girl from Huancayo [a poem/in English and Spanish]
Little girl from HuancayoDo you really, actually know? Just how fast those feet will grow,On the streets of Huancayo.Little girl with jumping jacksOn the street, looking back; Back to see whose inspection her,A barely boy with a bird.
Three Poems: Dona Leonors Revenge; The Old Moon; Collective Sides [All in Spanish/all in English]
1) Do˝a Leonor's Revenge [1627 AD]Rafael Ortiz's fate Was on the plate Of Do˝a 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 brokenhearted her trout!In SpanishTranslated by Nancy PenalozaLa leyenda de: La venganza de do˝a Leonor (1627 despuÚs de cristo)El destino de Rafael Ortiz Estaba sobre el plato De do˝a Leonor.
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 Crucial America. All came and all left, one way or another; now just dust and artifacts in the spiral of time.
The Art of Getting Poetic Critique
You can show your poem to your mom, your spouse, your co-workers, or your friends, but you might not get the responses that you can suck up into your a small amount characters fingers to use in an endeavor to refine your craft. What does it actually mean when a big cheese who cares about you, but not for poetry says, "Wow, this is great.
Stone Beds [A Poem and an Advance]
Stone Beds [Pompeii's surge]Advance: after the great explosion of Pompeii's adjoining volcano, Vesuvius, some two-thousand years ago in the peak 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 assume what the colonize went all the way through (none, not one character 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.
Kafka lands resurrected in Crewe deposited by a gray alien craft, And at the same time as he is wondering what to do He is asked to show his pass Or pay an minute one off fine At a cash slot machine of his choice And they are inspection all the time On his irises face and voice.And of avenue they find that he is not, They determine he just cannot be there, Although he seems as if he is visible, And has hands and toes and hair, If he is not on the Great Data Bank, He plainly and cleanly cannot be, He is not planned and he is not ranked He is certainly not like you and me.
Tale of the: Old Seeker and the Blonde 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.
Azra, Azra, Wake up Azra. Wake up Azra, It is time to go.
Ode To Quetzalcoatal [Now in Spanish and English]
Ode to QuetzalcˇatlQuetzalcˇatl the GreatNo one knew his true name, so they Called him Quetzalcˇatl-feather Serpent He and his crew of nineteen: faces Strange faces, similes of a prince, a lord: King of the Yucatan in the year 986 ADHe was a tall man; long cloths, sandals; White as day, with a long beard, black hair. Some say red: some don't say? But they called him priest, Lord, king Amongst many things: god!.
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.
Truth is stranger than fiction according to many citizens 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.
Rhymes of an Arms Man [Vietnam War: 1971]
Rhymes of an Guns 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.
A Ship to Remember
The Lull of Sundown [Over Mantaro Valley] In English and Spanish
Twilight, was now beginning. As forthe sun, it was down-down over the Mantaro Valley of Peru.
Mechanical Poetry; Part Two
What do you do when you want to write poetry? I hope your key is "I start writing." Even characters a bad poem is beat than before you for the "right words.
It's dark, it's cold, its' just six thirty,thoughts of sleep still dull my brain,As I cluster down, exclusive my coat,a rail user clone, just ahead of you for a train.Insidious rain, just drizzly down,through weak light of creeping dawn,Paper sandwich bags and old brunette cups,blowing past, look so forlorn.
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