High poetry; two poem [and commentary] - poetry
Bells for Belphegor!. . .
Where immortal veils never meet Belphegor, Arch devil speaks: In vagaries form, With signs and signatures not yet born-; The Tagaririm, order of the demon: They come to meet, the King Of Hell, and Demons, They come from assorted worlds- With scrolls, spells, countless powers To hell, to hell to meet-Belphegor. .
?and ring the bells, the bells? To ring the bells for Belphegor!. . .
A Analyze for Existence
The aim for life was just to exist and enjoy the miracle-the counter constantly in His palm; if you seek you will find; so I read one time. My look after knew it. Me, I was continually scruffy with its conspiracies and secrets?how foolish.
Commentary: here are two atypical poems with another jolts, "Bells for Belphegor!. . . " and "A Analyze for Existence"; one ghoulish in characteristics (where I walk under the blackened moon and balustrade sun); the other I call select, of a sacred nature; one of a devil (where necromantic arts are reborn); one of God, where being rests. Every now and then in poetry (for me anyways) we must go after the devils shadow; where delicate shades and gradation of meanings linger; but at all times seek the palm of God; and with a muster-seed of faith, one will be able to unlock the gate to the pit on the way out.
Poet Dennis Siluk http://dennissiluk. tripod. com
Shaking out the Rugs [Following the Poet]
Let's abide by the poet to his Hell and heaven! Count his Ghosts and dilemma's?Reach out to touch his Stretched-out skies; let's follow The poet to see where he lays.Let's admire the poet to his end; To see if he can?whatever He wants to do, do over again?.
Footprints to Mantaro Valley (a poem in Spanish and English)
Footprints to Mantaro Valley (English version)In what departure art hid?-Where declining mountains groan In shadow and amongThe torrents of the Rio? Is not your name Mantaro Valley?Beyond the road 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? .
Two Poems: San Jeronimo Brook & [in English and Spanish]
Fair Andes! Thy arms reach highOf iron-woven solid stone Thu art a condor to the skyOf glory concealed in thy heartSo many paths, a maze of art?In thy old, Mantaro ValleyWhere adobes, breathe and tremble Beyond your pastoral shadowsThere lays the prettiest of brooksIs my heart, contained by its stream!My image genuinely carved, rippledIn its neat shallow watersWaiting, just ahead of you for me?As it opens up, opens up my soulMy rippled soul-searching-eyes!..
House of the Elf [Part Two of Three/with notes]
House of the Goblin [Part Two of Three]Here is where, where the air is stillAnd the mountains dimness disappear! Here is where, unidentified spirits dwellWhere harp and remembrance expire?Where the rainbow-leaps, from itsStoreroom-keep, and cries; And the sands along the lot coastEcho then die?as in sleep?;And where fascination turns into ghouls!..
Poetry "Reborn" Emerges In Crime story Mystery Novel
Since Mohamed Ali-then Cassius Clay-announced that he had in print "The world's nonstop poem," I have known that I would be a poet. "ME? WHEE!" His conquering assertion evoking shivers in my concerned teenaged identity, for I reasoned in rhyme.
How wonderfully sweet to be a dweller dwelling on the road of goodbye. Bittersweet tears fall as I think of all the chairs I'll never see, all the faces I'll never know, all the joys I'll never share, as I head for the unknown.
Africa - Wheres The Profit?
A poetic expansion that just welled up contained by my head - why cant we just do a touch - already many more are dead?How pious those politicians are, When up there on T.V.
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!..
The King and Delka & Moiromma: the Cold Globe [Parts 25 and 26]
#25The King and Delka [Split Mawkishness-on Moiromma /Part V]Sickly SentimentalityI have wanted out friends Only to find rawness Of their passion; And the consistency Of their vision.Who out there can know My brainy verve?(Only the long dead)By King Moir I[Of Moiromma]Ah! the directionless universe come back to his mind as he stands on his gallery looking up into he eerie dark.
Write Your Way to Fame
Have you ever brain wave about how nice it would be to see your poem discussed in the New York Times? Think you have what it takes to be converted into a celebrated poet? Well the adverse truth is that no one has what it takes to be a eminent poet. Here's a hardly exercise: Name the most celebrated contemporary poet you can think of.
I Sought after TO SAY IT WITH A BUNCH OF Flora A CARD WOULD HAVE SUFFICED.I Sought after TO SAY IT WITH A PACK OF SWEETS A' HI' WOULD HAVE SUFFICED.
Two Poems and an Chemical analysis ['Witness,' & 'An Old Love']
Two Poems and an Chemical analysis ['Witness,' & 'An Old Love']WitnessMy face belongs to whoever sees it Everything has a connotation but life Even the bugs strive for existence God saved man, from God Ghosts have lonely sins Her bones are stones Up and down the hill Gardens blossom Spotless skies Dramatists August I can not rest!..
Anne Bradstreet, To My Dear and Loving Husband, A Discussion
"To My Dear and Loving Husband" was on paper by America's first female poet, the Puritan, Anne Bradstreet. In fact, Anne Bradstreet is one of only a handful of female American poets at some stage in the first 200 years of America's history.
Top 20 Poetry Quotations
Explore the consequence of poetry and the motivation of poets with this distinctive album of suggestive quotations..
San Francisco [Almost a Sonnet]
(The city by the bay of Northern California, near which the Appeasing Ocean resides; the year is 1967)Mid October seemed like some bound day,When all the way through the composed waters, dry as lead, The ferry, like vague dimness that stand the dead,Slipped down the bent coast of Frisco bay, Rounded the Blonde Gate,-and San Francisco lay, Before me, that gay city, pink and red, Hippies enclosed Haigh Asbury's dispossessed head,-My home, to be, I found stirring and grey.The waves broken on the wooden-sides; fishermenNearby with long necks, looked and cast again.
It Was Not Me
It was not me as I am now. It was not me as I was then.
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.
Two Poems, with Metaphoric Language
Says Mr. Dennis Siluk, when asked to appraisal his poetry somewhat, for he hesitates all the time when I ask him to so; I can tell you.
Five Poems from Home [And a view on the globe vs. the poet]
Five Poems from Home1) Remembering: Dorothy Parker [Dedicated to the 1920s Poetess]Let it be said, Dorothy Parker lies dead, cremated to ash and poetry; thus, she died at the ripe old age of seventy-three-.The tiny woman with a big mouth, who got immovable in the rain and couldn't get out: continued to play the game, all the same, like drops of rain upon a pane.
Whats A Prisoner to Do?
What's a prisoner to do when evenhandedness fails and the chaste is escorted off to jail?What's a prisoner to do once stigmatized, caged and abandoned and ostracized?What's a prisoner to do there's no one to trust; the approach fails and the outcome unjust?What's a prisoner to do when children decide the punishment is necessary and justified?What's a prisoner to do while confined in a cell; the perpetrator's free and faring quite well?What's a prisoner to do once his reputation is dead and his life has been ruined for the reason that of what a big cheese said?What's a prisoner to do when he's not believed, though he's decisive the truth, he's attention to deceive?What's a prisoner to do as he sits all alone, no one seems to care; earlier links all gone?What's a prisoner to do meeting lost and idle and most of one's belief befall suicidal?What's a prisoner to do when freedom's taken away and the will to live diminishes each day?What's a prisoner to do when hedged in by strife; with no avoidance possible; no attempt for a new life?What's a prisoner to do when he can no longer see the beauty of the sky or the waves of the sea?What's a prisoner to do when the sun he can't feel, nor the breeze of bounce since his fate is sealed?What's a prisoner to do when doomed to despair but still praying to break the emotional chair?Tell me, what's a prisoner to do?Rev. Saundra L.
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