Grandpas house & from iraq with love [two poems] - poetry
The house desired painting
While he, pealed off the ole
Just a humble made of wood house
An' his well-kept yard, which
Branches-they looked like
Note by the author: "We all grew up all together I believe you might say, my brother and I, mom and grandpa, a few aunts in the beginning, all existing in an absolute breed environment; that is how it felt anyhow. Though the house belonged to my grandfather, we all lived together; now it all seems so long ago, and what pops out of my mind is: I never did take a penchant to painting houses after painting his a few times. "
From Iraq with Love
American's most often are
Note by the author: "I am not for or adjacent to the war in Iraq, for the most part; though I do have faith in America did do a great assistance for the world, and the Iraqi colonize by bringing down Saddam, a world demonic beast, from his throne, and maybe it was worth the price, then and now; we are all plus the price right this minute, are we not [?] But is it worth it to continue? A pale distrust at best, now facing all and sundry in the country. There are wiser men than I up in Washington D. C. , figuring these effects out, and clearly we do not know the whole lot of what is in the background. But being in a war, I do know this: we won the war, it must be over, and we are not conscientious to rebuild their whole countryside at the cost of demanding the American city dweller to death: financially, resources, and our youth wise. I do pray that Head Bush will bring our boys home. Adequate is enough. "
See Dennis Siluk's new book of poems "Spell of the Andes," at any book dealer: http://www. amazon. com or http://www. bn. com
Have you ever practiced love with a celebrity you know is not a good match for you? Or how about an exciting affiliation that roots itself deep in your memory..
Rhymes of an Guns Man [Vietnam War: 1971]
Rhymes of an Arms Man [Vietnam War: 1971]An eleven part poem By Dennis L. SilukI had went to Vietnam at the age of 23 , and it was most interesting, there were 205,000 troops there when I arrived.
Three Poems: Ghost 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 Game of Life
When your life becomes unbearable And the light of agree ceases to glow, When all your dreams and aspirations Lie quiescent on ambition's death row.When you feel that all is hopeless, Life troubles just seem to abound.
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 approved 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 childlike past days, Still lively in my blonde age, When all was quick and new Now wrapped in movies and books, And links and ancestors 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 analyze my views; They tell me what I be supposed to like, And that I must 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 colonize ask, "What style of poetry to you like the best?" I can never come back with that question; it is open-ended to me. If I feel like infringement free from tradition as in the poem of: "Old Age," so be it; and if I feel accepted verse, a stricter conventional arrangement ought to be used, as in "Boyhood," and can add absolutely to the poem, so it is.
Five Poems from Home [And a view on the world 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 jammed in the rain and couldn't get out: continued to play the game, all the same, like drops of rain upon a pane.
Two Poems: Black Poncho, and Spirits of de Copan [in English and Spanish]
English Version12) Black Poncho(of Saint Cosme Hill, by Lima, Peru)Lost in the grottos of Peru- By the hills of Huancayo Black Cloak was given A treasure of gold?; By none other than, Demonic goblins!?in the form of baking fruit; Hence, Black Cloak fooled The goblins of oldBy using his cape to pull The blistering blonde fruit Through the Andes to Lima, Peru!?Henceforward, he was swindled By a jeweler of dire repute. Thus, his life misrepresented (as so often they do); And now he lives with: Thirty-five dogs, on San Cosme Hill.
Walt Whitman, Romance With a Stranger
The belief of brief encounters, even romantic encounters, with a stranger recurs often in the verses of Walt Whitman.Take, for example, these lines from one of the inscriptions that Whitman wrote to his 1860 journal of Trees of Grass.
Testimony to the Night [In English and Spanish]
In the quiet of the freezing night- In its deep northern skies, Dim are the lights, in its coldEvening frost?! Even the stars of the arctic Seem without a sound stone frozen!Here, here is where you find Peace and the beast within-! Remote, no ears or wordsTo confusion the mind To embed the throat; Here, here is where you die?(for a moment).Here, the sky has eternal eyes Eyes with cosmic tides Tides that never rest: they warWith the Universe- Likened to a dark deep abyss; Endless and never resting?Here my eyes seek and search In countless hours, ebbing and Sweeping the heavens aboveNumbing, changeless- Are the cosmos, the heavens? Here resides a alien peace?Here, resides a bizarre peace With an army of stars to defeat Shinning, mutely in the darkThe ebbing, eldritch dark; Time has no bearing here, Here, resides a strange, peace?Cold and oddly numb are my feet, As I look up, upon the many bridges One star bridging the next-as if,If Kings and Queens were Guarding them-the Hosts- O-Yes! A strange, astonishing peace?Ah! Praise, praise be to thee, to thee Flaming, baking firmaments-ye, Ye, jog your memory me not, of the wars I left,Of the foes, divine immortals?The enemies that never rest Ah! Praise, praise be to thee, to theeI hear music, harmony from afar (there) There are storms clandestine in a storehouse, For tomorrow-war beyond, beyondOrion's dust?perpetual dust; There, there the sun is dim to bleak.
It's dark, it's cold, its' just six thirty,thoughts of sleep still dull my brain,As I bend down, confidential my coat,a person along for the ride clone, just before you for a train.Insidious rain, just showery down,through weak light of creeping dawn,Paper sandwich bags and old brunette cups,blowing past, look so forlorn.
Farewell to Lester Graybill
I never met a man, who could shake my hand, and make my heart feel like a fireside afire.I never met a man, who could smile so easy, real honest.
Three Poems (While in Transition/English and Spanish)
Here are three more poems by the author, Dennis Siluk, while peripatetic througout Essential and South America.Three Poems While in Transition (In Spanish and English)Poem OneEnglish VersionOrange Timid MoonO┤er the Copan skyan arch of darkness weave their webswith low-lights, as the moon rises.
Find the Magic
FIND the MAGICFind the Magic As you delivery old repression Come out of hiding And see the starsFind the Magic As you expose the pain Let the tears flow And find beauty in your bodyFind the Magic As you scream from the beating Run from the threats And feel the affection of a hugFind the Magic As the barely girl is silenced Told she is too smart for her own good And she finds her place of honor as she speaks her mindFind the Magic As the ghosts creep into dream Haunt your daily life And you meet them at the crossroads and move onFind the Magic As you drift out of your body, avoiding the anger Observe the separation And you join the body temple once again to be glad in this distinctive wonderFind the Magic As you listen in to the conflicts and Watch in horror And emerge from the water whole and attractive in a rainbow of colorsFind the Magic, For you are whole once againę 2004 Susan BaconSusan Bacon is an researcher, educationalist and author. Call her all through her web site http://www.
Let Your Feelings Be Your Guide
The light of all eternity shines with me now / My feelings light up my life / How I find my way is dogged by them / They light up my path and show me who I amWhen I was young, I felt so many equipment / Then came the day when I could not stand the pain / My world was chaos then, crammed with be sad and grief / So I clogged up to defend that fragile Self withinYears would go by ahead of I could open again / I was compulsory to by position clear of my be in charge of / Life dealt me blows which I later accepted as my own / To arouse me to that be distressed deep surrounded by my SoulI worked hard to find my way back to the Light / To that place surrounded by where I could feel once again / There my Heart shone forth with a brave face / And shed light on all that I had concealedNow I see how I bunged that tender-hearted Self / How I froze in the face of my fortune / Troubles swirled about as a continuous basis of grief / And I fell to sleep out of fearI am initiation now to the deep void inside / Where I've stored all those troubles and pain / I fight my way back to that axis once again / So I can come forth entirely and be trueMy life moves ahead as of this day / When I committed to discovery my true Self / I've engaged all conduct of demons on this journey / To come back to that Basis deep insideI wish for life to fill me now and bring all it can / I am avid for come into contact with and for advance / I want abundant assets from my Soul to fill me / So that I can truly enjoy all that I beholdThis work is from time to time challenging as I have educated / But no more than any task requiring Love / This journey enriches me with its determination / And fills me with Life and SoulThis is my gift to myself, my own holy Soul / To have, to hold and to regard / This Heart that bled is now curing its wounds / And can do well again from what Life bringsLet there never be a come back to where hurts cramp me up / And fill me with anger and pain / I am awake now, yes, and can move ahead / To be grateful for all that Life has assignedOh glory to you, my Sweet Soul, for advent this day / I thank you from the foot of my Heart / We two can sing as one the praises of Love / That take us ahead on this journey by means of timeNever let it be said that one so deserving / Could not find his or her way Home / All whom will abide by shall see this Light in turn / And know that their journey can be wonI take you with me now, my Sweet Soul / For you are here in my hands / Where I can consider you / And together, we can be so bold"Move on," you say to me. "Move on, my love / The Light needs for us to do so" / And my Heart sings with the potential / So that "Yes" is the fulfil I can render with easeMy Heart is crammed with Love and joy in this jiffy / Knowing that I am with you, my Soul / My feelings tell me you are there and at all times were / Till that sleep came over me before onBy arousing to your touch do I know You / And find my own truth there in your eyes / You show me all through Love what my determination can be / I am inspired by this caring designI am contented we are here together, in this life / I am delighted that our love is so biting / For now I can reach you, my Sweet Soul Magnificent / When you call to me from deep inside my HeartI have your come back with Dear, and know this to be true / That you and I are ceaselessly to be born / In this life or another, we join with each other / And We Soar .
Ode To Quetzalcoatal [Now in Spanish and English]
Ode to QuetzalcˇatlQuetzalcˇatl the GreatNo one knew his true name, so they Called him Quetzalcˇatl-feather Serpent He and his crew of nineteen: faces Strange faces, metaphors of a prince, a lord: King of the Yucatan in the year 986 ADHe was a tall man; long cloths, sandals; White as day, with a long beard, black hair. Some say red: some don't say? But they called him priest, Lord, king Amongst many things: god!.
The Time Has Come and Buzzing
Most of my poems are in print late at night, often, as this one was, after I have bowed out the light to go to sleep. It seems that is the time when I am most creative.
Beautiful Dreamer, Stephen Foster, Americas First Folk Song Writer
"Beautiful Dreamer" was on paper by Stephen Care for just ahead of his death in 1864 at age 37. The song became one of his most celebrated and most popular.
Shadows of the Andes; Ollantayambo; and Cesar Vallejo [Poems in English and Spanish]
1) Darkness 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 indoors 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.
JOINEDHeart beat of man pounding - yet unheard joined becomes the beat of a nation.Words of man written - yet unread joined becomes a proclamation.
No one must have to beg or crawl ahead of humanity. No one be supposed to have to design to acquire philanthropy.
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