Four poems: two for the devil, two for peru - poetry
Here is some witty poetry (not sure if that is the apposite 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 actions 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.
On December 25, 2012 AD
And from the fetus
Man sheltered into
That would paralyze, sting;
And thus, they came
Down, down, to its knees!.
Sometimes, it's not wise
Do not go to Ica, dear friend
Perhaps lose your head,
6/6/05 #714 [Ica, is in Northern Peru]
Poet/Author Dennis Siluk see http://www. amazon. com for his most fresh books
It Was Not Me
It was not me as I am now. It was not me as I was then.
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 payment by the Spaniards.
Ceasar Vallejo: Black Roses [In English and Spanish]
Cesar Vallejo: Black RosesBow down your head ol' poet- To face God's grace ahead There are no more trenchesTo dig today? In the jungle of your head,So-: Bow down, bow down,Ol' barbaric poet! Death rides the horse ahead I hear the crackling of a whip See the distraught eyes of death.He writ you to his den- The devil and his wind,So-: Bow down, bow down Your blood marked brows He will take you to the edge.
Three Sweet Poems, and Two Not So Sweet [now in: SPANISH and English]
1) End PoemWherever you are today- Is where you were meant to be; It's where God, dotted the 'i' and the 't'?!2) God's AngelsGod asked his angels: "Why do you look so sad?" Responded one angel: "Sir, we can't find the shade."3) An Empty SpaceOut of wisdom one will wait, travel far for love; the thirst will not kill them.
Three Poems: The Monkey Man of Lima, Plus Two More
What Hides after the Minute?What hides after the minute? It seems, no one especially 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 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 human orbit, As the ceaseless world discovers.
Two Poems and a Short Story
1)dying in the bar [sluggishly]yet, I would crawl too upto the bar, it was everything, the dampness the impressed wood the zoned-out-ness in my head dreaming; it was change for the better than death? then I took an added drink?so many I never moved much, like dead fish. my head split like an ass it was numb and, nil else numbness was my homeacross the street, dancing on the patio the moon was out.
now is not the time to open open that great door again not the time to be more tolerant not the time to play to winnow is not the time for justice evolution mercy choices not the time to pet the puppies yipping with pathetic voicesnow is not the time for kindness not the time for compromise not the time for loving blindness not the time to close my eyesnow for one too many people not that i have gained no good heart has sown but flesh is reaping tears to mind and emaciated bloodnow my inner wolf seeks equals only those whose chords can howl deadly whether lone or social defending young or on the prowltell me not that you would die upon the spines of my displeasure live for me and for you will i cherish each cell as if a treasureput me not exclusive a cage but roam with me because of snow and sun be by my side or breathe my dust for i shall bleed again for noneNiki Lasher Artist, Writer, and Webmatron http://www.kthulah.
Three Poems: Apparition of the Rocks; Lady from Lima & Bell Ringer of de Copan
Phantom of the Rocks[Huancayo, Peru]Night falls deepUpon the traveler!Low, over the AndesBy Huancayo-;They know a legend,Not of this earth,Where evil lurks(Over Palla-Huarcuan!..
Do you ever stare at the paper, ahead of you for poetic inspiration? Well, you can stop before you and start using systematic techniques for creating poetry. If it seems too mechanical or false at first, don't worry.
The Ballad of: Brawling Mad-dog Sergeant Rook [Now in: SPANISH and English]
English VersionA bunch of us guys in the hutIn ?Nam Were in concert cards, singing songs; In a solo-room, back of the hut Lay mad-dog, Sergeant Rook;And examination 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 hunted to fight him too.
Portrait Of The Artiste As A Young Dog
Emlyn Williams Theatre, Mold, North Wales: 20th February 2003Clwyd Theatr Cymru commemorated the 50th anniversary of the death of the Welsh poet, Dylan Thomas (1914-1953) with a superb run of performances by a small but accomplished cast of actors.Described in the programme as "A artificial journey all through the prose characters of Dylan Thomas", the fabrication was bent by Tim Baker, an Assistant of the Royal Citizen Theatre, who won the Manchester Dusk News Best Visiting Creation award in 1992 for the approvingly highly praised To Kill a Mockingbird.
Lord Byrons She Walks in Beauty
Lord Byron's break ode to "She Walks In Beauty" is among the most memorable and most quoted lines in romantic poetry. The break lines are effortless, graceful, and beautiful, a appropriate match for his poem about a woman who possesses unforced grace and beauty.
Memoirs of a Wastelands Rim [a Poem: now in Spanish and English]
Memoirs of a Wasteland's RimIt still was light when she paused at the wasteland's rim- Over, the rim rest like a sleeping brute, a made of wood frame Adjacent to the blue where early stars hung like oil lamps Hanging from old beams and shade?the impassive frame Her traction jammed the beams, as she had fallen onto it Alone, she watched the forenoon, climbing about her A rolling stone woman, apparent by life, and at an angle dreams With advent of hurt and molded muscle on her face Her assume fixed adjacent to the impassive frame, She tried to jump, and lost her balance, execution like a bird Now sipping the gloom in the ledge and crushed hopes She yielded beforehand the lethargic early payment of sunset Blood dripped, with her dying darkness And a cherry moon hurled a flame across The eerie clouds, burning all the way through the sky The beset sky above her?Crossing the valley's floor her eye absorbed it Rocky images, main points Thrusting herself up bravely from to the ledge The painted crack of dawn blushed over the rim Her brows and nose, face adjacent to the brickwork stone Massive injuries was charming form, Her outline balanced so languorously athwart the sun It was too great a task-to die alone?she wished now She had not jumped?a thousand feet below, yet to go. Too much for any woman in a lost world Out of the weak wood her mind had peace; She knew soon it would all be over-alas Mute and protesting adjacent to life's uselessness A narrow path lay below her lean body Between death and attainment, a careless foot The rocks beneath her weakening, she plunged Plunged to her death, in the figure hands of the valley Thinking of it, as she fell, belief with a smiled, Saying, looking up-dead ahead of her echoes: 'Time is short?time is short?time is short!' When they found her, her face was confident of falling.
Never Ever More
Once upon a midnight dreary, coffee cold and apparition bleary, all night sat there inscription COBOL, coding apply crossways the bed sheets, changing grammar for the mainframe, having tartan 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 nobody more.
Three Poems (While in Transition/English and Spanish)
Here are three more poems by the author, Dennis Siluk, while nomadic througout Focal and South America.Three Poems While in Transition (In Spanish and English)Poem OneEnglish VersionOrange Timid MoonOŽer the Copan skyan arch of gloom weave their webswith low-lights, as the moon rises.
Daybreak at Pikes Creek [a Poem]
Daybreak at Pikes Creek [Summer of 2005]Daybreak by Lake Superior Rising out of the woods like: A swamp mist I'm before you for breakfast(at the B&B) I pace the grounds The scent of green shrubbery: Trees, flora, flowers-rain Intoxicates me- Branches like big brown arms Descend? The embankment, to the right Blue eyed, like mine-reflect From the creek beneath me (my wife says 'be careful' she went to get the camera) The greens and blues touch My face and blue jeans- Reflections mirrored like Musical notes of a symphony (I'll see them later in pictures) For now, it's daybreak In Minnesota.#813 8/26/2005Note: the author, Dennis Siluk, took his wife Rosa [me: on my birthday] to Lake Superior, this summer, and I highly thought of the largest lake in the world.
Arizona Blue--Gunfighter: The Wolves Nest [Chapter One of Seven: The North]
[Episode Five]Arizona Blue-GunfighterThe Wolves Nest-in the North[Episode Five]Northern Minnesota Area-Winter of 1877Chapter One of Seven: The NorthThe area was known as Pigs Eye [St. Paul, Minnesota]; Northfield was a a small amount more notorious since Jessie James robbed the 1st Inhabitant Bank, in September of last year, and more to the West.
Two Poems, with Abstract Language
Says Mr. Dennis Siluk, when asked to analysis his poetry somewhat, for he hesitates all the time when I ask him to so; I can tell you.
Ocean Heal Me
Ocean Heal MeOcean heal my wounds Let your waves curl and foam on my body Wash away blood, heal scarsOcean renew me with your power As interminably you roll Giving asset that's been drainedOcean keep me warm Wrap me in your brine Caress me with your tidesOcean diffuse my tears As they flow in you I clean my soulOcean let me grow in your depths Color me alive blue, coral, green Clear = revitalizedOcean your spray anoints me Cool and refreshed My spiritual renewalOcean be my friend Hold me flowing in your currents Ever moving, ever changingOcean, heal me.© 1983 Susan BaconSusan Bacon is a researcher, biographer and teacher.
Footprints to Mantaro Valley (a poem in Spanish and English)
Footprints to Mantaro Valley (English version)In what back away art hid?-Where declining mountains groan In shadow and amongThe torrents 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, exquisitely low. I do but know thy by a glanceAs the clouds above me know? .
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