Ballade of an inca king - poetry
Ah! Leave the gold, wealth and land
Says the Inca King?;
The hum of the gold is sweet,
It glows and glistens like the sun
Spaniards sing their songs of victory
Where breaks the green Peruvian sea;
They babble about his blonde rings
They watch the winds cross the shores?
Another bounce will never pass,
Swallowed up by death, and death-
Before the gold arrives I fear?
It all will be clandestine low, low
Just a Note: Ricardo Palma has been some of my inspiration to a high grade on the traditions of Peru; as I have tried to put some into poetic verse. The Inca in all-purpose has been an ongoing theme I seem to like contained by my Peruvian poetry, and numerous lettering surrounding them, and locations, such as the Andes, Cuzco, Huancayo, Lima: all in Peru of course; with such names as: Francisco Pizarro, and Bolivar, Atahualpa [Inca King]; Titu-Atauchi, his brother. Dona Veronica Aristizabal.
Thank You To Our Soldiers And A Acknowledgment To Old Glory And A Prayer For Peace
Thank youDedicated to soldiers and their loved onesFor those who have laid in fox holes,carried guns,marched for hours.For those who have had cold restless nights,endless days of discomfort.
Stone Beds [A Poem and an Advance]
Stone Beds [Pompeii's surge]Advance: after the great epidemic of Pompeii's adjoining volcano, Vesuvius, some two-thousand years ago in the glory days of the Roman Empire, what was left of the city were commonly ashes of stone from an unleashing furnace; it is hard to assume what the citizens went because of (none, not one anyone survived). I can only guess from the looks of the city today, and in its early excavations, its associates were baked alive or asleep, like pottery.
Beautiful Dreamer, Stephen Foster, Americas First Folk Song Writer
"Beautiful Dreamer" was in black and white by Stephen Advance just beforehand his death in 1864 at age 37. The song became one of his most famed and most popular.
I Hate The Wait (Weight)
I get up in the morningAnd want to stay in bedOh, so nice and warmLike fresh from the oven bread.My day is oh so busyI wish that I could stayIn the quiet of my houseIf only I could play.
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 commerce 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.
Portrait Of The Actor 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 dramatic journey all the way through the prose copy of Dylan Thomas", the fabrication was bent by Tim Baker, an Assistant of the Royal Countrywide Theatre, who won the Manchester Late afternoon News Best Visiting Construction award in 1992 for the abundantly commended To Kill a Mockingbird.
In Poetry: Denotation of Words [And ...Rocket-belt]
In Poetry: Connotation of WordsWhen I write poetry, I check out the connotation of words for too often they sound the same, but once written, and if spelled wrong, in consequence, give a absolute another connotation of what I had intended; this I call a instant of destruction control. If my rhyme is flat, and my intonation is off, so what, I can survive, as long as the connotation of my words are not; and are as I meant them to be.
The Spirits de Copan
Part oneI see them in the skies I hear them in their hells They gossip and they moanAnd never are alone- The Spirits and the Ghouls? The Spirits de Copan!They are darkness in my world Echoes in my dreams A mystery and a force To a cosmic happening! The Spirits and the Ghouls? The Spirits de Copan!..
Three Poems (While in Transition/English and Spanish)
Here are three more poems by the author, Dennis Siluk, while roaming througout Essential and South America.Three Poems While in Transition (In Spanish and English)Poem OneEnglish VersionOrange Timid MoonOŽer the Copan skyan arch of dimness weave their webswith low-lights, as the moon rises.
The Time Has Come and Buzzing
Most of my poems are on paper late at night, often, as this one was, after I have bowed out the illumination to go to sleep. It seems that is the time when I am most creative.
AFRICA (to africans in diaspora)africa here i come, africa africa of the black soul the soul of an antique cultivation the civilization of your timid tribes.its your voice i hear africa your voice of the conversation drums your beaded drums and the royal trumpeter the metal gong of your town crieri have come to see your music dance i have heard of your everlasting minstrels have i not heard of your vacillation hips! i have heard an adequate amount of and have come to watch wouldn't you dance for me africaafrica here i come africa would you not show me to your tribes the timid tribes of your sugared tongues the miscellaneous tongues of your moral menafrica, black soul africa tell me about your gods your gods of the sky and of the nurse earth your gods of the hills and of the rivers aboundshow me to your kings africa your kings of the antique dynasty the antique era of rusted spear and shield africa, here i come africaHEAVENLY GUESTheavenly guest heralding thunderously in its own awake pelting on men as well, the gods gathering itself drop by drop.
Key Largo - Frater Albertus
Key Largo:The fans turn idly in front of the doorThey open wide presentation mangroves galoreAn egret in the everglades stalks its preyHaltingly it walks along its wayOn an added brainy and sunny dayA woman's floppy hat shades her beauty not so brittleThe shiny 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 sophisticatedly sits downIn the small hotel lobby bar'A city north and very far.
Opposites Do Be a focus for Quite Well
When I am climbing up, you are stepping down. When I wear a smile, you wear a frown.
Ambiguity and Abstraction in Bob Dylan's Lyrics
To many citizens contemporary poetry is a turn-off. The basis for this is that the adult years of these poems are boring.
San Francisco [Almost a Sonnet]
(The city by the bay of Northern California, near which the Conciliatory Ocean resides; the year is 1967)Mid October seemed like some bound day,When because of the balanced waters, dry as lead, The ferry, like vague dimness that stand the dead,Slipped down the bowed coast of Frisco bay, Rounded the Fair Gate,-and San Francisco lay, Before me, that gay city, pink and red, Hippies sheltered Haigh Asbury's destitute head,-My home, to be, I found stirring and grey.The waves out of action on the wooden-sides; fishermenNearby with long necks, looked and cast again.
How I amazement what he's doing as I sit alone at night. How I awe who he's seeing How I astonishment if I'm right.
Spell of the Andes: (in English and Spanish)
Note: in print 4-15-05, while forceful by means of the Andes of Peru, from Huancayo to Lima. I sensed I was but an ant, among the mass of stone, earth and flora of this enchanting, and lasting landscape.
Farewell to Lester Graybill
I never met a man, who could shake my hand, and make my heart feel like a grate afire.I never met a man, who could smile so easy, real honest.
Poetry in a Nutshell
Poetry is more than just rhyming and prose that is in meters and verse. It is an art form.
Africa - Wheres The Profit?
A poetic commentary that just welled up contained by my head - why cant we just do amazing - ahead of many more are dead?How pious those politicians are, When up there on T.V.
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