In the midst of all - poetry
In the midst of darkness, there is light.
In the midst of night, there is day.
In the midst of grief, there is healing
In the midst of sin, there is redemption
In the midst of decay, there is renewal.
In the midst of tears, there is laughter.
In the midst of the bad, there is the good.
In the midst of suffering, there is mercy.
In the midst of all. . . . THERE IS GOD.
Rev. Saundra L. Washington, D. D. , is an certain clergywoman, experienced person collective worker, and Come to grief of AMEN Ministries. http://www. clergyservices4u. org. She is also the dramatist of two chocolate table books: Room Beneath the Snow: Poems that Preach and Negative Disturbances: Homilies that Teach. Her new book, Out of Deep Waters: My Grief Management Workbook, will be existing in July.
Robert Burns Love Poem: A Red, Red Rose
Robert Burns, a poor man, an educated man, and a ladies' man, is ambassador 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 the way through poverty, informal education, disappointed love, nationalism, and literary and pecuniary hit can be identified by all Scots and conventional men the world over.
A Poem - By Lorraine KemberIt was a day like any other and mother, father, sister, brother, were moving out the customs of their land. When abruptly exclusive of warning, Care for Characteristics came calling, shook the earth and stole the ocean from the sand.
My Final Defeat - Fixed Competition
She doubtless can't commit to memory and I know I can never forget..
Two Poems, with Emblematic Language
Says Mr. Dennis Siluk, when asked to appraise his poetry somewhat, for he hesitates all the time when I ask him to so; I can tell you.
Poetry and Common Culture
Is poetry too convoluted for the be in the region of reader? Is it too cryptic, scholarly? If you ask a large group of be in the region of citizens what they like or don't like about poetry, you'll get a few altered answers, but there is an crushingly conventional grouping of responses.One of the main reasons that associates say they aren't addicted to contemporary poetry is that they feel it is too cryptic.
Man Unbowed [A poem]
Man UnbowedUnbowed by sin, the world of man, stands Upon his feet he gapes into the sky, The lack of interest of centuries in his eyes, And in his heart the curse of the old world. Who made him dead to love and God? A thing that breathes only for wants and needs, With a lack of emotion, a brother to the fox? Who tightened and hard-pressed up his pointy brow? (To make him look so grand, so proud-so tall.
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 engraved wood the zoned-out-ness in my head dreaming; it was beat than death? then I took a further 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.
Blind Designs [a Poem] and a Note by Rosa on The Other Door
Blind DesignsBorn today, gone tomorrow Like a butterfly with no stomach Born n the morning, dead by night Oh-let me whisper Oh-let me cry What man has not learned? What man will not learn! In his pomposity, his oratory With his abstract concepts With his intellect With his creativeness He has befit enslaved By-them? By them all, he will fall. Ah! Yes-abstract concepts Bombast and expression His intellect His cleverness This he trees behind To his decedents!.
Savage Nature: The Life of Ted Hughes
One of the most central poets of the post-war period, Edward James Hughes (1930-1998), was drawn towards the primitive. He was captivated by the beauty of the actual world, normally portraying its cruel and savage humor in his work as a deliberation of his own not public anguish and magic beliefs - committed that contemporary man had lost touch with the elemental side of his nature.
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 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.
THe Monster Mash, A Churchyard SMASH (short story I wrote when I was 11)
The Monster Mash The Churchyard SmashHave you heard of the Monster Mash? I consider you know the story of how it came to be, right? Well, I'm here to tell the TRUE story to you.It sarted out late one night, when all monsters where out of human sight.
Ole Bulky Jeeps & Paper, Ink and Rain [two Peoms]
Ole Bulky JeepsThrough late summer's heat These bulky shaped jeeps Ride by house and farm City and barn-Hungry for Spring-again, on tenterhooks to avoid The Slipping and sliding Of winter's ice and wind?[s]Their bulky legs are dirty From heartbreaking dust and rain (Here and there, everywhere) Through all kinds of terrain Like emotive clouds caught In the flora of the woods? They never slow down a ting They have a duty, and give.It's part of how they live- In military-, bulky ole jeeps!.
Opposites Do Be a magnet for Quite Well
When I am climbing up, you are stepping down. When I wear a smile, you wear a frown.
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 chief lake in the world.
Publishing Your Poetry
If you are critical about as your work available by decent publishers, there are a few points you be supposed to consider. First and most obviously, you need to clarify if you have poetry worth publishing.
Azra, Azra, Wake up Azra. Wake up Azra, It is time to go.
The Last King of Mars [A Poetic Mytho]
[As Told by the Last] King: it was in the year 23,700 BC that one of the two moons of earth was hit by a meteor that of which, a great part of the moon broke off and hit earth's apparent with a devastating impact. Thus the solar arrangement absorbed a calamity in incredible proportions, from Jupiter to Mars; knocking Earth out of its 100,000-year Ice Age.
Life is a Fantasy
LIFE IS A FANTASY!A pink-eyed rabbit, fuzzy whiteHops in bedrooms overflowing with frightA child of six with much to knowHer father's basest feelings showShe knows of LOVE, only by means of himHe satisfies his every whimHe leaves, she wipes himfrom her chin!Her care for NEEDS to see the bestHe answered her God requestTo have a roof to comfort bringA yard where all the birdies singTell me how she could certainly knowWhat find for knowledge could she go?Her look after consistently beaten if not worseThe cycle of violence - a woman's curseConflicting visions, dependenciesOne can go on many idiosyncrasiesShe could not make him defendant beDenial, avoidance? she disbelievesThe rabbit hides beneath tall trees.At thirteen a step-grandfatha'Finds a well-trained girl that oughta'Do what athletic men requestNever deliberate what is bestAnd run away she does at lastFreedom can be such a 'blast'A rabbit's foot upon a chainThe FANTASY her 'safe' domainHow long in life must it remain?To guard her from these menWho continually for her lips, do 'yen'A state trooper in Tennessee Like every other man does see Her lips so full and moist red Through the bars, not in a bed.
Three Poems (While in Transition/English and Spanish)
Here are three more poems by the author, Dennis Siluk, while roaming 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.
Expressing an Emotion - The Art of Copy Poetry
Writing poetry is an art, a way of expression, discovery gist in few words. A piece of music of passion flowing out onto the pages, words that flow into each other and yet communicate the inner most opinion and feelings of those who read the words.
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