Ole bulky jeeps & paper, ink and rain [two peoms] - poetry
Ole Bulky Jeeps
Through late summer's heat
Their big legs are dirty
It's part of how they live-
Paper, Ink and Rain
This year they are half the size
and precisely, the color of red,
past the next word, I've yet to read
Note by Rosa: here are two more poems by Dennis Siluk, I hope you enjoy them. I often don't know where he is going with his poetry, but it is not hard to make it out once he puts it done on paper; as a replacement for of those napkins at the Barns and Noble, Café, in Roseville, Minnesota. I have at times, had to rush and check his spelling (he uses spell check, but his MS gets to him now and then; but so did Faulkner's wife, so I don't feel bad. I think his first poem deals with his long career in the military, 11-years. He drove jeeps all over the place. I told him now they got these humvee's, but he still calls them jeeps, so I just over look it. And his back poem, I think what he is annoying to zone in on is just an everyday piece of life?simplicity. He never tells me; and I'm no scholar. I do achieve his poems are on paper with a premise always, and I guess that is what I like; and it's not hard to find. He celebrates life with every word.
Dennis Siluk's books can be seen at his website: http://dennissiluk. tripod. com
The Ballad of: Brawling Mad-dog Sergeant Rook [Now in: SPANISH and English]
English VersionA bunch of us guys in the hutIn ?Nam Were live cards, singing songs; In a solo-room, back of the hut Lay mad-dog, Sergeant Rook;And study from a distance Was his sidekick, Bodily Cook.When out of the night, he wantedTo fight This bully of six-foot-two Dog-drunk, smelling like a skunkI required to fight him too.
Testimony to the Night [In English and Spanish]
In the quiet of the bitter night- In its deep northern skies, Dim are the lights, in its coldEvening frost?! Even the stars of the arctic Seem mutely stone frozen!Here, here is where you find Peace and the beast within-! Remote, no ears or wordsTo confusion the mind To ensconce 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 alien peace With an army of stars to defeat Shinning, like a ghost in the darkThe ebbing, eldritch dark; Time has no consequence 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, alien peace?Ah! Praise, praise be to thee, to thee Flaming, blistering firmaments-ye, Ye, hark back 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.
I am not the one I was beforehand yesterday.I cannot go back.
Shakespeares Limerick XVIII, Shall I Balance Thee to a Summers Day?
Shakespeare's sonnets compel time and attempt to appreciate. Agreement the many meanings of the lines, the crisply made references, the genius of the images, and the difficulty of the sound, rhythm and arrange of the verse hassle concentration and experience.
Life is a Fantasy
LIFE IS A FANTASY!A pink-eyed rabbit, fuzzy whiteHops in bedrooms full with frightA child of six with much to knowHer father's basest feelings showShe knows of LOVE, only because of himHe satisfies his every whimHe leaves, she wipes himfrom her chin!Her look after 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 especially knowWhat find for erudition could she go?Her protect consistently beaten if not worseThe cycle of violence - a woman's curseConflicting visions, dependenciesOne can carry 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 calculating 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 care for her from these menWho all the time 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 MoonO´er the Copan skyan arch of dimness weave their webswith low-lights, as the moon rises.
Lamenting Poetic Moods [six Poems]
Advance: in Mr. Siluk's poetry one finds symbolist values, deep impressions; verbal magic and even childish jingles; at times the common 8-syllable verse (ballad metre).
Azra, Azra, Wake up Azra. Wake up Azra, It is time to go.
Caught in the Arms of ED
YOU MIGHT THINK I AM STRONGI THINK YOU GOT IT WRONGI LIVE LIFE DAY TO DAYHOPING IT WILL GO MY WAYI HAVE MY Acquaintances AND MY FOOD PLANMY Psychotherapist AND MY THOUGHTSMY Apply AND MY EXCITEMENTTHEN Amazing HAPPENS AND I GET CAUGHTCAUGHT IN THE ARMS OF EDTURNING MY EYES AWAYFROM MY FOCUS TO WIN THE FIGHTTHAT I Belief WAS GOING TO STAY.HE TELLS ME THAT I AM SELFISHTHAT I Be supposed to DOUBT MY EVERY MOVEONE Diminutive I AM HAPPYDO I HAVE A RIGHT TO FEEL THIS GOOD?DOUBTING MY Asset AND CONFIDENCEAS ED All the time KNEW I WOULDI AM Trailing INCHES About MY WAISTAND MY PANTS ARE Diminishing OFFI SEE THE FACE OF ED IN MY HEADAS HE BEGINS TO LAUGH AND SCOFFYOU THINK YOU ARE GOING STRONGYOU THINK YOU GOT ME BEATLET ME SEE YOU LOSE EVEN MOREYOU WILL SEE THAT YOU WERE WRONG.
The Dead God of Copan (in English and Spanish)
English VersionAnd the Death God said: "Let it rise to its glory in the Rio Valley-for a season; then let it be gone, we shall call it Copan?"Prologue: Empires come and go, liken to cosmic events, or the storms about the world: Atlantis, Mu, Greece, Persia, Rome, the Inca Nation, and even the great Maya heroic times of Copan, in Focal America. All came and all left, one way or another; now just dust and artifacts in the spiral of time.
You make me smile like I've seldom done before You give me a reason to want more and more..
My hero, my best friend, my Grannio (a.k.a my Grandmother)
She raised me like I was her own daughter from the day I was born 32 years ago.She loved me like minion else has ever loved me in my life.
The Crusader: A Exploration for the Benefit Confidential (an extract of an Epic Poem)
On all through the darkness she searches the bones Seeking the hand of her love; Deep in the stillness, the maid searches on, Petitioning help from above. Onward she gropes all the way through the flesh and the blood Of the warriors stained and maimed; She carries no hope for the life of her love - For nil but his body she came.
Key Largo - Frater Albertus
Key Largo:The fans turn indolently in front of the doorThey open wide screening mangroves galoreAn egret in the everglades stalks its preyHaltingly it walks along its wayOn an added brainy and sunny dayA woman's floppy hat shades her beauty not so brittleThe shiny scarf that holds the hat flutters just a littleShe pauses in the threshold of the doorSurveying what she's looking forShe is looking above-board at meHer beauty flaunted all to see.'Where are you from?' while noticing I had a frownOn the other couch she pleasingly sits downIn the small hotel lobby bar'A city north and very far.
Biography of Charlotte Bronte
Charlotte Bronte (1816 -1855) Author and Poet.Charlotte was the daughter of the Rev.
Farewell to Lester Graybill
I never met a man, who could shake my hand, and make my heart feel like a grate afire.I never met a man, who could smile so easy, real honest.
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 cordiality of a hugFind the Magic As the a small amount 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 inimitable wonderFind the Magic As you listen in to the conflicts and Watch in horror And emerge from the water whole and delightful in a rainbow of colorsFind the Magic, For you are whole once again© 2004 Susan BaconSusan Bacon is an researcher, coach and author. Commerce her all the way through her web site http://www.
Im Sorry Mom! A Mothers Day Poem
Mother's Day Poetry,I'm Sorry Mom!I'm sorry for the troubles And the reservations I brought you. I'm sorry for my mistakes, I didn't mean to make you blue.
Tale of the: Old Seeker and the Blond Hare [In SPANISH and English now]
There once lived an old man and his goodwife On the edge of the thick of the woods; They lived in an old run-down shack For forty-years and some. The old man hunted for his living, And his wife sewed on her lap.
How to Write Bad Poetry
"All bad poetry springs from honest feeling."--Oscar WildePeople write poetry for a glut of reasons, but this clause has a sharpened arrowhead aimed at once at the fingertips of amateur poets who wish to be in print yet garbage to learn the attributes of a well-crafted poem.
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