The valley of pain - poetry
We were exiled from the Plot of Eden.
We don't enter as of desire
Eden's garden; its beauty so magnificent,
The valley of pain is bleak and lonely,
In pain's valley, no restaurants exist.
There are no banks in the valley of pain,
Pain's valley in not a poor man's haven;
Bitter anguish is practiced in this valley,
When we enter the valley of pain,
When we enter the valley of pain,
When we enter the valley of pain
We must find our own classified hideaway
Saundra L. Washington is the dramatist of two brown table books: "Negative Disturbances, Homilies that Teach," and the book from which this poem is taken, "Room Beneath the Snow, Poems that Preach. " She can be contacted at: http://www. clergyservices4u. org
There are many times I set up barriers and walls, invisible if not you come too close, And then you hit them.You amazement what happened.
Lifes Too Short
Time goes by to quickly to hold your feelings inside Especially when their so strong even if they don't abide..
Truth is stranger than fiction according to many citizens who have seen what happens about me and to them, on many occasions. From time to time I have had others assume me in the same way.
You can do and you can be whatever you want. You have the power, and the right, to make the changes.
The Mercantile of Copan [In English and Spanish]
English VersionThe Commercial of Copan [480 AD]Advance: The ballgame at the Honduras court in Copan, the year was 480 AD, Copan's 3rd ruler, Mat Head, whom succeeded Quetzal Macaw, whom was the come to grief 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: 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 bucolic shadowsThere lays the prettiest of brooksIs my heart, in its stream!My image genuinely carved, rippledIn its pure shallow watersWaiting, just ahead of you for me?As it opens up, opens up my soulMy rippled soul-searching-eyes!..
Three Poems: The Monkey Man of Lima, Plus Two More
What Hides after the Minute?What hides at the back of the minute? It seems, no one certainly knows; How many times will we wakeup, To count the follow-up gone?The rose was dead when I arrived; The sword, was rusty and dull; The casement curtain was open, And there was music in the hall.Oh lovely minute, where art thou? One, is not like the other-: Whirling in an human orbit, As the ceaseless world discovers.
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 afforest 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.
Poems have another cores, or so I believe, and can only be structured well for a variety of metaphoric language-heart beats; like all counselors are not made for all clients, so all poems are not made for the same person, or purpose; when we read we all have our likes and dislikes; I do not automatically know what poetry is per se, but I do know what the distinction of poetry has, and great poetry is close to an illusion?it carries an echo I do believe-figurative yes, at best, and questionable yes, by far. Here are five poems I've freshly wrote, all with a altered core, focus and style.
Ocean Heal Me
Ocean Heal MeOcean heal my wounds Let your waves curl and foam on my body Wash away blood, heal scarsOcean renew me with your power As incessantly you roll Giving asset that's been drainedOcean keep me warm Wrap me in your brine Caress me with your tidesOcean diffuse my tears As they flow in you I bathe my soulOcean let me grow in your depths Color me animated blue, coral, green Clear = revitalizedOcean your spray anoints me Cool and refreshed My spiritual renewalOcean be my friend Hold me flowing in your currents Ever moving, ever changingOcean, heal me.© 1983 Susan BaconSusan Bacon is a researcher, dramatist and teacher.
It's dark, it's cold, its' just six thirty,thoughts of sleep still dull my brain,As I bend down, exclusive my coat,a rail user clone, just coming up for a train.Insidious rain, just showery down,through weak light of creeping dawn,Paper sandwich bags and old brown cups,blowing past, look so forlorn.
Learn About Love From Poet Rumi
Learn about love by appraisal poetry by a long dead poet named Rumi. No need to look for antediluvian texts clandestine in caves.
I Saw the Universe
I can see the navy blue of the skiesOr the navy of the nightI can see the stars wink, the grin of the moonDuring the changes of it's monthly face**I am in awe**I see the sun on it's yearly trekAlternately arousing the life in the earthAnd then departure away to allow it to sleepUntil the next spring**I am told the Universe is "out there"Beyond those stars, moon and sun,Yet the power of what I can seeIs a fathoming ahead of my comprehension**I am in awe**"Out there" no time, no seasons passNo sense of age, hatred or loss existOnly the infinity0f the Universe**What IS "out there"?What IS the Universe that has no end?What IS the power that creates all this?I want to see it too**And then I remember..
Uamaks Sea [suspense: now in Spanish and English]
Delicately, my mind was selecting a barely audible tune, out of the dead dark empty space surrounding me?I saw a shape on a rock, not sure who it was; I had a sensitivity though, a affection call it, or second-sight; I've heard that before, not sure if I want to put a lot of authority into it, but so be it, the sensitivity and lack of feeling was there. I didn't' sense any chance in the moment, in the moonlit figure, meeting on the rocks, lurking, looking out into the deep.
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 character to do?It is not bacteriaAlthough it can eat away my soulIt is not a virusYet, it can keep me from ambiance 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, doesn't matter what it takesTo keep the monsters still.
Welcome to the Town of Feeling
Happy, Sad, Mad and Glad, Moved in down the streetCautious watched them, from her window, Wondering, which one be supposed to I meet?Confused came in with overwhelmed and said, "The Panics have come to town"Then Hopeful called the carefulls, And said that Happy was a clown.Anxious came in with the news, Confident had called a town meetingTo take a vote for Mayor, And to Appreciated the new neighbors to Feeling.
Thank You To Our Soldiers And A Duty To Old Glory And A Prayer For Peace
Thank youDedicated to soldiers and their loved onesFor those who have laid in fox holes,carried guns,marched for hours.For those who have had cold without sleeping nights,endless days of discomfort.
Lima, City with the Stretched out Wings [In English and Spanish]
Lima, City with the Stretched out WingsIt's an ink-black night: no stars: a moon in sightJust dots of: red, green and white-white lightsAs the plane descends, descends, slides down On the long-drawn-out-spun-out drawn out city of light Uneven as a crumbled cake, lit up like a Christmas tree-The restless city, with its stretched out wingsStretching from the mountains to the sea- Winding all through the valley's, forests, and streams Stretches, stretches its naked wings-endlesslyAs,I'm descending, down, over and about the city (descending, descending, and sliding to the ground)The city with stretched out wings-and endless lights Down, behind, around, the ground, it's immune to me I'm just part of its evening, a initiation in its inky seaInvisible people: cats, dogs, birds, and rats-infiniteUncountable: dots; streams of lit dots, dot-lights; People: walking, talking, sleeping, ingestion by the dots People: waiting, killing, robbing, praying, by the dotsFor tomorrow, tomorrow and a new tomorrowThey say-:you are ruthless, and I know this to be trueAnd they tell me you have thieves and murders-And this, I dare say-but shall-is also true, very true But show me a city to the awkward of eight-million-? I shake my fist and say: '?show me! But no one does'So alive, so brave, with bright and hungry hearts;I say, show me one that sings in poverty and smiles Prove me one that celebrates year-round of its heroes Show me painters that are as good-that sell on streets-As good as: Picasso, Dali, Rembrandt, and Yang YangAnd that welcomes the world with stretched out arms-Show me all this, or some of this, and I will say no moreWith this,I descend to its streets, its crowed winding streetsAs well as, to its neighborhoods with dust and mucky air, And hear the laughs of the children; the dogs on roofs Sights of the shoe-shiners: men and boys, in the parksAnd the copious food carts; -- musicians, paper sellersAnd with its naked featherless wings, jacket all-My Lima, Peru with its distinguished Cathedral:Golden blond with gigantic crowns, andWithin its plaza-square, a water fountain-celebrated.Under its sins, with its craggy aged men, lovely women,They all stand tall and bow to its Inca history, its glory- Its world that once ruled all, like the Roman Empire,Like the American Dream, they were the noble, the kingsAnd now, from hard work and toil, sweat and strive, all, all Grinding, grinding away, each and everyday, lover of the, King of Kings: Jesus Christ-this is the Lima I know today; a mighty ship that has before now sailed the seven seas, now resting!?Spanish VersionLima, La ciudad con las alas extendidas Translated by Rosa PeñalozaEsta es una noche oscura: no estrellas, ni luna a la vistaSolo puntos: rojo, verde y blanco-luces blancasMientras que el avión desciende, desciende, bajando A la larga-extendida-plana persistente ciudad de luces Plana como un panqueque, encendida como un árbol de navidad-La despierta ciudad, con sus alas extendidasExtendidas desde las montañas hacia el océano Zigzagueante a través de los valles, bosques y riachuelos Estirando, estirando sus alas desnudas-interminablesMientras,Voy descendiendo, abajo, por encima y alrededor de la ciudad (Descendiendo, descendiendo, y deslizándose a la tierra)La ciudad con las alas extendidas-y luces interminables Abajo, Abajo, detrás, alrededor, la tierra, es inmune a mí Sólo soy parte de esta noche, un bautizado en su oscuro océanoInvisible: gente, gatos, perros, pájaros, y ratas, infinidadIncontables: puntos, riachuelos de luz, puntos de luz; Gente: caminando, conversando, durmiendo, comiendo bajo los puntos de luz Gente: esperando, matando, robando, rezando bajo los puntos de luzPor mañana, mañana y otro mañanaEllos dicen--:Tu eres implacable, y yo se que esto es verdadY ellos me dicen tú tienes ladrones, y muertes-Y esto, me atrevo a decir, que esto también es cierto, muy ciertoPero muéstrame una ciudad de ocho millones contraria --? Sacudo mis puños y digo: "?muéstrame," pero nadie lo haceTan viva, tan valerosa, con corazones fuertes y hambrientos:Digo, muéstrame una que canta en pobreza, y sonríe Pruébame una como esa, que celebra alrededor del año a sus héroes Muéstrame pintores tan buenos-que venden en las calles-Tan buenos como: Picasso, Dali, Rembrant y Yang YangY que recibe al mundo con extendidos brazosMuéstrame todo esto, o algo de esto, y no diré masCon esto,Desciendo a sus calles, atiborrada, zigzagueantes callesAsí como su raro vecindario con polvo en el aire Y oigo la risa de los niños, los perros en los techos Vista de los lustrabotas, hombres y muchachos, en los parquesY los numerosos carros de comida, músicos y vendedores de periódicosY con su desnuda y desplumadas alas, cubriendo todo-Mi Lima, Perú, con su renombrada catedral:Amarilla dorada con su coronadas torres, yDentro de su plaza cuadrada, una celebrada piletaBajo su piel, con sus arrugados ancianos, tiernas mujeres,Todos ellos parados altos, y reverenciando a su historia inca, sugloria- Su mundo que una vez gobernó todo, como el Imperio RomanoComo el sueño de América, ellos fueron los nobles, los reyesY ahora de pesadez, y esfuerzo, sudor, lucha, todos, todos extenuados, fatigados, este y cada día, amantes del Rey de los Reyes: Jesucristo-esta es la Lima que conozco, hoy; un poderoso barco que ya navegó los siete mares, ahora descansando?Author/Poet Dennis Siluk, web site: http://dennissiluk.
Famous Poets Quotations - Top 30 Poetry Quotations by Eminent Poets
"For this aim poetry is a touch more philosophical and more admirable of considerable interest than history."-- Aristotle"Every American poet feels that the whole accountability for contemporary poetry has fallen upon his shoulders, that he is a literary landed gentry of one.
Black Blood, in Jeremiahs Vines - A Poem and an Article
Black Blood, in Jeremiah's Vines [A Dream Poem]And I heard the crackling of wood, and I noticed the Lord God had made men of wood, and fire came from his mouth.Then the wind poured its grief upon us-over our sins; and I heard the words for the seventh time, "Go to the mountains!"Foolish associates of this land pray and understand-for He cometh! Thereof, toss by hand to thy knees, for the roar of disloyal men will bleed: black blood, by means of the vines of Jeremiah.
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