San francisco [almost a sonnet] - poetry
(The city by the bay of Northern California, near which the Comforting Ocean resides; the year is 1967)
Mid October seemed like some bounce day,
When all through the calm waters, dry as lead,
Slipped down the bowed coast of Frisco bay,
My home, to be, I found stirring and grey.
The waves kaput on the wooden-sides; fishermen
Nearby with long necks, looked and cast again.
The ferry behavior restrained the great sea bird
Note by the Author: Sonnets are tricky hardly creatures, and even though I happening out to coin one, I found I had to lay it aside, and build a semi-sonnet, for I did not want to lose tone, and apparition of the waters about the bay of San Francisco, and the echoes that came with it. I had lived there in l967-68 for a year. And many ferry rides were existing for a few dollars. Some even chanced it by going under and out clear of the Blonde Gate, and so it was the supreme achievement of my young years to have befit a part of this fascinating city, in such a fascinating time period, one unequalled since the 1920's when Hemingway and Fitzgerald walked the streets of Paris, and Scott, coined the term, "The Jazz Age," back in l967, it was the Hippie Era.
I believe for me, I do not feel bound by ceremonial timekeeping to construct a full sonnet, but in this poem neither did I want blank verse, which is unrhymed iambic pentameter. So this is what I came up with. The trip I took on the boat was essentially with my mother, who came to visit me in the city by the bay, as I had gotten drafted to go into the Army, and onto Vietnam. It was a elated remembrance for both of us, which lasted until she agreed on in 2003; yes, we talked about those far off days in San Francisco, of which she only stayed for a week, for 35-years; what more can one ask for out an experience.
Poet Dennis Siluk web site: http://dennissiluk. tripod. com
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.
Let Your Feelings Be Your Guide
The light of all eternity shines with me now / My feelings light up my life / How I find my way is dogged by them / They light up my path and show me who I amWhen I was young, I felt so many equipment / Then came the day when I could not stand the pain / My world was chaos then, full with distress and grief / So I bunged up to defend that fragile Self withinYears would go by already I could open again / I was compulsory to by state of affairs ahead of my be in charge of / Life dealt me blows which I later acclaimed as my own / To arouse me to that be distressed deep surrounded by my SoulI worked hard to find my way back to the Light / To that place in where I could feel once again / There my Heart shone forth with a brave face / And shed light on all that I had concealedNow I see how I blocked that tender-hearted Self / How I froze in the face of my fortune / Troubles swirled about as a devoted cause of grief / And I fell to sleep out of fearI am arousing now to the deep void surrounded by / Where I've stored all those troubles and pain / I fight my way back to that core once again / So I can come forth from tip to toe and be trueMy life moves ahead as of this day / When I committed to conclusion my true Self / I've engaged all comportment of demons on this journey / To arrival to that Basis deep insideI wish for life to fill me now and bring all it can / I am dry for encounter and for advance / I want abundant materials from my Soul to fill me / So that I can truly enjoy all that I beholdThis work is at times challenging as I have cultured / But no more than any task requiring Love / This journey enriches me with its aim / And fills me with Life and SoulThis is my gift to myself, my own holy Soul / To have, to hold and to regard / This Heart that bled is now medicinal its wounds / And can do well again from what Life bringsLet there never be a arrival to where hurts cramp me up / And fill me with acidity and pain / I am awake now, yes, and can move ahead / To be conscious of all that Life has assignedOh glory to you, my Sweet Soul, for appearance this day / I thank you from the bed of my Heart / We two can sing as one the praises of Love / That take us advance on this journey because of timeNever let it be said that one so deserving / Could not find his or her way Home / All whom will adhere to shall see this Light in turn / And know that their journey can be wonI take you with me now, my Sweet Soul / For you are here in my hands / Where I can regard you / And together, we can be so bold"Move on," you say to me. "Move on, my love / The Light requirements for us to do so" / And my Heart sings with the promise / So that "Yes" is the come back with I can render with easeMy Heart is full with Love and joy in this flash / Knowing that I am with you, my Soul / My feelings tell me you are there and continually were / Till that sleep came over me beforehand onBy arousing to your touch do I know You / And find my own truth there in your eyes / You show me by means of Love what my drive can be / I am inspired by this alert designI am delighted we are here together, in this life / I am happy that our love is so beefy / For now I can reach you, my Sweet Soul Magnificent / When you call to me from deep in my HeartI have your key Dear, and know this to be true / That you and I are ceaselessly to be born / In this life or another, we join with each other / And We Soar .
Never Ever More
Once upon a midnight dreary, coffee cold and dream bleary, all night sat there characters COBOL, coding broaden diagonally the bed sheets, changing sentence structure for the mainframe, having checkered 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.
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 journal of Trees of Grass.
The Game of Life
When your life becomes unbearable And the light of assurance ceases to glow, When all your dreams and aspirations Lie hidden on ambition's death row.When you feel that all is hopeless, Life troubles just seem to abound.
Ambiguity and Abstraction in Bob Dylan's Lyrics
To many associates contemporary poetry is a turn-off. The aim for this is that the adulthood of these poems are boring.
Breathing-in, Minnesota [a poem: now in Spanish and English]
In early fall, in Minnesota, the rain falls, falls, In buckets, buckets and more buckets-: drops Likened to music from its many streams-land Of ten-thousand lakes; moistened gravel, gravel Everywhere?Grandpa sits on the porch-daydreaming of, of Something, perchance frost about the corner-; As the flies disappear, with the mosquitoes? Leaves will soon vanish, dark will come earlyMaybe he's accepted wisdom about summer: miles and miles And miles and miles of cornfields; his childhood now Long gone, he hums a hymn, a song; looking at the Metal-piped fence, he made, with three poles, on the Embankment, chief up the steps to the porch; It's worn-out like him.The winds in Minnesota smell fresh, fresh from all The foliage, there's a lot of it.
Death & the Supernatural: Poetry/Five Poems
Supernatural PoetryHere are five poems,-what I call-death and supernatural poems. Maybe a bit bizarre, a few stanzas may be, but with constant subtlety of course, and a ting of acuteness, but we have to hag on if we want a good ride:1.
The Ballad of: Brawling Mad-dog Sergeant Rook [Now in: SPANISH and English]
English VersionA bunch of us guys in the hutIn ?Nam Were live cards, singing songs; In a solo-room, back of the hut Lay mad-dog, Sergeant Rook;And inspection from a distance Was his sidekick, Physical Cook.When out of the night, he wantedTo fight This bully of six-foot-two Dog-drunk, smelling like a skunkI sought to fight him too.
Ode To Quetzalcoatal [Now in Spanish and English]
Ode to QuetzalcóatlQuetzalcóatl the GreatNo one knew his true name, so they Called him Quetzalcóatl-feather Serpent He and his crew of nineteen: faces Strange faces, metaphors 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!.
Lord Byrons She Walks in Beauty
Lord Byron's cavity limerick to "She Walks In Beauty" is among the most memorable and most quoted lines in romantic poetry. The cavity lines are effortless, graceful, and beautiful, a decent match for his poem about a woman who possesses graceful grace and beauty.
Four Poems: Grendels Nature...the Racetrack...Counting days...[Now in English and Spanish]
English Version1) Grendel's DivorceYou must know that I do not hateAnd that I hate you, Because the whole lot dead has twoSides; A sound is one arm of the quiet, Ice has its warm half.I hate you in order to start hating you To begin life again And never to stop hating you: That is why I do not hate you yet.
Article on Poetry and Two Poems
Writing Poetry for TomorrowWhat does a man need to be a poet, or tomorrow's literary giant? Questions many a undergraduate has asked, from Harvard all the way to the convergence seminary in one's hometown. What is the answer? Well, I can give you mine, and I'm sure if you asked a hundred writers, or a hundred scholars, you'd get two hundred atypical answers.
Ballade of an Inca King
Ah! Leave the gold, wealth and landSays the Inca King?; In Spain, they leave the full of life streets, For sail to Peruvian shores;The hum of the gold is sweet,It glows and glistens like the sun A mountain of gold, or the grave Awaits the human, Inca-god?!Spaniards sing their songs of victoryWhere breaks the green Peruvian sea; Who now, worships the Inca King (?) Guarded at the back of prisons doors-?They babble on about his fair-haired ringsThey watch the winds cross the shores? They count the days that idle by, For gold they worship and will die.Envoy.
Ode to: The Ice Maiden of Ampatos Conference [now in: English and Spanish]
Dedícate to Antonio Castillo. L.
Have you ever skilled fascination with a big cheese you know is not a good match for you? Or how about an exciting association that roots itself deep in your memory..
Listen as I Share: WE
You speak simple, completley understandable justifications I acknowledge them, acknowledge you, honor what you tell me and even despite the fact that I know where you're advent from, I just sought to share with you, let you hear: my heart..
The Time Has Come and Buzzing
Most of my poems are in print late at night, often, as this one was, after I have twisted out the light to go to sleep. It seems that is the time when I am most creative.
So many looked to you for inspiration,Unlikely hero for the wheelchair nation.Proudly you fought and smugly you believed,Everyone loved you Christopher Reeve.
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 Antediluvian 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 furthermost of man's feats? The great, Great Zimbabwe (Enclosure).A million-stones, built these antique 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 dream to becomeRich-off Inca blood, In the year-1571?#744 7/1/05Notes: (The Inca Empire): the belief is often that the Inca Empire was a large project of its self; a collective blunder at best; convoluted for sure; but for the most part, the Inca Empire was comprised of ethnic groups who were subject into the Inca Empire, akin to the Roman, which was a city citizens [Empire] you might say, who under enemy control the whole world into its Roman Empire; likewise, so did the Incas of South America.
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