Darkness of the andes; ollantayambo; and cesar vallejo [poems in english and spanish] - poetry
1) Dimness of the Andes [or: Song to the Andes]
I shall blend-in, into the
of the mountains!
Like a leaf blown far from
I shall blend-in, clinging
To the mountains-
Note: when I at home back home from Peru, my 7th trip in five years [April, 2005], I had spend about 30-days this time on the trip. I visited the Mantaro Valley, Huancayo, and drove by means of the Andes. Upon my arrival home, I told my wife, maybe a week or two thereafter, "We are going to go there and live. " Thus, we sold everything, and our home in Minnesota, and purchased a condo in the Andes, and now it is all history.
Sombras de los Andes
Yo armonizaré, dentro de las
Como el musgo de las piedras
Como una hoja echada a volar
Yo armonizaré, adhiriéndome
2) Campaign of Ollantayambo
Batalla de Ollantaytambo
3) Cesar Vallejo's:
Bow down your head ol' poet-
To dig today?
So-: Bow down, bow down,
Ol' barbaric poet!
He writ you to his den-
So-: Bow down, bow down
Closer, closer, I see you now
Bow down, bow down, Ol' poet
#666 [5/15/2005] In English only
Dennis Siluk http://dennissiluk. tripod. com
Shaking out the Rugs [Following the Poet]
Let's adhere to 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 be a consequence the poet to his end; To see if he can?whatever He wants to do, do over again?.
Beautiful Dreamer, Stephen Foster, Americas First Folk Song Writer
"Beautiful Dreamer" was in print by Stephen Bring up just already his death in 1864 at age 37. The song became one of his most famed and most popular.
San Francisco [Almost a Sonnet]
(The city by the bay of Northern California, near which the Comforting Ocean resides; the year is 1967)Mid October seemed like some bounce day,When all the way through the balanced waters, dry as lead, The ferry, like vague darkness that stand the dead,Slipped down the bent coast of Frisco bay, Rounded the Blond Gate,-and San Francisco lay, Before me, that gay city, pink and red, Hippies enclosed Haigh Asbury's destitute 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.
The Goat and the Rope [a Poem: in Spanish and English]
The Goat and the Ropewhere there were devils I saw none. nothing.
The Lull of Sundown [Over Mantaro Valley] In English and Spanish
Twilight, was now beginning. As forthe sun, it was down-down over the Mantaro Valley of Peru.
Two Poems with Triggers [and a commentary]
So Many Einstein'sThe crack of dawn mist, insists there is a God. The earth cadaver faithful to its orbit.
Africa - Wheres The Profit?
A poetic expansion that just welled up classified my head - why cant we just do amazing - already many more are dead?How pious those politicians are, When up there on T.V.
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 behind 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 leading lake in the world.
Never Ever More
Once upon a midnight dreary, coffee cold and dream bleary, all night sat there journalism COBOL, coding broaden diagonally the bed sheets, changing language rules for the mainframe, having checkered 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 nonentity more.
Take some time to stop and look at nature. Pick up a rock or two and think about where it might have in progress out and what it might have gone all through to end up where you found it.
Four Poems: Two for the Devil, Two for Peru
Here is some witty poetry (not sure if that is the apt 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 dealings 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.
You make me smile like I've seldom done before You give me a reason to want more and more..
Shadows of the Andes; Ollantayambo; and Cesar Vallejo [Poems in English and Spanish]
1) Gloom of the Andes [or: Song to the Andes]I shall blend-in, into theMountains- Into the faintest thinShadowsof the mountains! Like the moss on moistenedStoneLike a leaf blown far fromHome?(freshly fallen)!I shall blend-in, clingingTo the mountains- Into its faintest thinShadowsNote: when I at home back home from Peru, my 7th trip in five years [April, 2005], I had spend about 30-days this time on the trip. I visited the Mantaro Valley, Huancayo, and drove by means of the Andes.
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 expression With his abstract concepts With his intellect With his creativeness He has develop into enslaved By-them? By them all, he will fall. Ah! Yes-abstract concepts Bombast and idiom His intellect His cleverness This he plants behind To his decedents!.
Antidotes for an Alibi
Amy King's first full-length collection, Antidotes for an Alibi, insists that we assay the illusory clarity of our events and the goals that motivate us. How does one in reality get from "A" to "B"-and is there ever especially a "B"? What color is the white space amid "A" and "B"? Upon earlier inspection, apparent realities disclose themselves to be leaky and fragile, encrusted with textures and grains that lead the eye on unreliable pathways.
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 devoid of warning, Look after Character came calling, shook the earth and stole the ocean from the sand.
The Man Who Could Not Say Sorry For His Sins
Sorry would be a start.Though you cant take back your mistakes, and you cant clear up time, you'd think there would be remorse, for such a self helping crime, to send others out to die, to pay the blood price you have decreed, when its absolutely pomposity and posing, all about conceit and greed, to confident a perceived niche in history, glowing down the years, is the boundary of your ambition, is the puny limit of your fears, when those you have sent to die, believing implicitly in you, leave relatives at the back who see, that nonentity you said was true, there is no brain wave now for those, whose amount you dont count, they are yesterdays forgotten, though daily they still mount, no belief of resignation, no assurance to those left behind, just forward with the ego, fast accelerate from those times, as if nonentity ever happened, as if your lies are quite ok, as if now is what to focus on, and then was a further day, lost back in the mists of time, obscured by clouds half seen, not an disrespect to the living, not impeachable and obscene, you may want to move on now, and dispense with your past infamy, but you be supposed to be tried for treason, and behind bars for blasphemy.
Ballade of an Inca King
Ah! Leave the gold, wealth and landSays the Inca King?; In Spain, they leave the active streets, For sail to Peruvian shores;The hum of the gold is sweet,It glows and glistens like the sun A mountain of gold, or the grave Awaits the human, Inca-god?!Spaniards sing their songs of victoryWhere breaks the green Peruvian sea; Who now, worships the Inca King (?) Guarded at the back prisons doors-?They go on about his fair ringsThey watch the winds cross the shores? They count the days that idle by, For gold they worship and will die.Envoy.
New Poetic Work By Ethiopian Colonizer Promotes Respect, Courage And Cultural Sensitivity
McLean, VA - "The Curative Conscious" tells the story of an Ethiopian colonist boy on his fascinating journey to America and adulthood. Creator Kifle Bantayehu, a 23 year-old second-generation Ethiopian immigrant, recounts this agonizing tale in poetic format.
A Ship to Remember
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