The cat - poetry
Truth is stranger than fiction according to many citizens who have seen what happens about me and to them, on many occasions. Every now and then I have had others assume me in the same way. This is part of the story told in my clause The Man who Loved Jail.
the cat meowed and moved leisurely out of his way
he knew it sought after something
but it didn't come to his open hand
so he meowed
they parted friends
perhaps never to meet again
the Earth was docile under foot
the trees engulfed his heart
and took his mind to the tree tops
so his soul could feel, forever
the ageless beauty and end of life
~ the family member unimportance of his human fears
she stood next to him
in a place far away from the cat and the trees
in a town where religious studies is raised to a new low
he felt the cat's friendship and wisdom
he knew how unimportant his fears were, and the roots
of the tree. . .
seemed to tie their feet
with certainty and timelessness
he awaits the mountain top with excited anticipation
still fearful, he might fall
~yet fully confident
in its rightness
Author and advocate for Ecumenicism and equal creative potential.
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.
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 iciness about the corner-; As the flies disappear, with the mosquitoes? Leaves will soon vanish, darkness will come earlyMaybe he's belief 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.
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 demented eyes of death.He directive you to his den- The devil and his wind,So-: Bow down, bow down Your blood discolored brows He will take you to the edge.
A Case of The Fears
Chicken Soup is good for a coldSleep is good for the FluWhen I get a case of the FearsWhat is a being to do?It is not bacteriaAlthough it can eat away my soulIt is not a virusYet, it can keep me from affection wholeI know what will do the trick,What will put me back on top,A great big bowl of Ice CreamWill certainly hit the spotThat was great and now I am doneOne bowl just won't doIf one is good, then more is greatAnd now I have eaten two.Bowls three, four, five and sixCame and then they wentI think my case of the fears are fixedLook at how my time was spentI am in receipt of sleepyIt is time to go to bedMy fears are no longer in my stomachNow they are in my headI close my eyes and I can boil Fears I want to killI will do, anything it takesTo keep the monsters still.
Kafka lands resurrected in Crewe deposited by a shiny alien craft, And at the same time as he is wondering what to do He is asked to show his pass Or pay an minute one off fine At a cash distributor of his choice And they are inspection all the time On his irises face and voice.And of choice they find that he is not, They detect he just cannot be there, Although he seems as if he is visible, And has hands and toes and hair, If he is not on the Great Data Bank, He plainly and cleanly cannot be, He is not scheduled and he is not ranked He is clearly not like you and me.
The Mercantile of Copan [In English and Spanish]
English VersionThe Commercial of Copan [480 AD]Advance: The ballgame at the Honduras patio in Copan, the year was 480 AD, Copan's 3rd ruler, Mat Head, whom succeeded Quetzal Macaw, whom was the creator of the city is now the new ruler. Mat Head, was a female, the partner of Quetzal Macaw, and here is where the story begins.
Two Poems: Boyhood, and Old Age [with a note on style]
BoyhoodOh me! Thy glorious days have flown! I mealy noticed, now they're gone, How cursorily accepted the flowers! Time does not stop youth's bells; It was like I was in a spell, And my face now shows the hours!Ah yes! My young past days, Still lively in my blonde age, When all was quick and new Now wrapped in movies and books, And associates and breed were all I knew And love was shown by forthcoming looks!#741 6/26/05Old AgeThey stop by to see me now To find what's old and new, They peer into my-everything, And assess my views; They tell me what I be supposed to like, And that I be supposed to be grieved-These are my fragile contacts That takes the strongest liberties?I mean to take the signal off; And put the phone external the door; In vain I speak to tell them why -I shan't live here anymore!#742 6/26/05A note on Style: some citizens ask, "What style of poetry to you like the best?" I can never counter that question; it is open-ended to me. If I feel like contravention free from tradition as in the poem of: "Old Age," so be it; and if I feel conventional verse, a stricter correct arrangement must be used, as in "Boyhood," and can add completely to the poem, so it is.
The Exit Poems [Iron and Fire & No Heroes]
The Exit Poems [And Socrates]Iron and FireIron can be allay by fire- grows hard in the cold; and all the gates therein are, as it was, bunged again. So, often are those misled? by luxury and pride, who push humbleness aside-: thus, conversion their vanity and perfection their virtue? and in the end, they all collided.
Storm Rising along the Lima Coast
Storm Rising along the Lima Coast [Summer of 2002]?wind was blowing at high speed It never left for a instant Bursts of fury I found it arduous to keep My feet placed, thus, I clung to my knees For one heavenly flash I could not now disguise it From for myself Some cunning air Manifested itself Then the contemporary drew Sharply away from me With her mystery-Back out into the open sea Yet-, still it roared back at me! It was an articulated delivery It made my head swim I noticed it kept-step With my exultation!?#761 7/14/2005Notes: There are mysteries to the sea, at times it seems as to have its own mind, its own character; as if description was plugged into all that exist. Earth itself being an being with its own lively soul.
Publishing Your Poetry
If you are considerable about since your work available by honest publishers, there are a few points you must consider. First and most obviously, you need to clarify if you have poetry worth publishing.
Burning Autumn Grass [a poem in Spanish and English]
Burning Autumn Leaves [1950s in St. Paul, Minnesota]My long steel cutting rake punctured And twisted by means of tons of autumn leaves (back in the '50s); And there's a hill yet, I didn't rake, I see Behind it, two embankments Leaves I didn't rake a day ago; The essence of fall sleeps on the ground.
Catherine Daly reviews Antidotes for an Alibi
Amy King Antidotes for an Alibi BlazeVox Books ISBN 0-9759227-5-0 2005These poems read to me like poetry versions of flash fiction. Now, I like flash fiction very much, but I like the more fabulistic kind.
Passion and Poetry, and Life
Ironically, the passion that can deactivate the nausea for difficulties depends on the endeavor to overcome these difficulties. The irony resides in the circularity of this code - which applies to all areas of activity, plus poetry: One must make the crack to overcome difficulties to attain achievement and feel capable, and one needs this achievement and atmosphere to have a passion for creation this effort.
Two Poems, with Metaphoric Language
Says Mr. Dennis Siluk, when asked to assess his poetry somewhat, for he hesitates all the time when I ask him to so; I can tell you.
The Time Has Come and Buzzing
Most of my poems are in print late at night, often, as this one was, after I have crooked out the light to go to sleep. It seems that is the time when I am most creative.
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.
The Bungle of Lima and Footsteps to Mantaro Valley (Two Poems)
Footprints to Mantaro Valley (Peru; in English and Spanish)In what back away art hid?-Where diminishing 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, beautifully low. I do but know thy by a glanceAs the clouds above me know? .
Because of You
You are to me my lifeline my security. That scares me.
Ambiguity and Abstraction in Bob Dylan's Lyrics
To many ancestors contemporary poetry is a turn-off. The analyze for this is that the adult years of these poems are boring.
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.
|home | site map|
|goldenarticles.net © 2018|