| |
| |
|
Poetry Information |
|
|
|
The Goat and the Rope [a Poem: in Spanish and English]
The Goat and the Rope where there were devils I saw none. they walk noble. naked. like jungle #816 8/27/2005 In Spanish Translated by Nancy Penaloza La soga y la Cabra Donde allí hubo diablos yo no vi ninguno. Nada. El aire está caliente. Sustancia lechosa. Yo estoy y estamos mirando esto profundo. El alma perdida. Estamos mirando a este terreno. La luna está muerta. Sobre mi cabeza. Como Una cortina vaga. Colgando. La mayor parte De los reyes en la abadía de los ministros del oeste Están aquí. Todo el resto de nosotros está sobre la colina. Ningún helado aquí abajo. Somos los desechados. Los seducidos. La mayor parte de nosotros dormidos A través de nuestras vidas terrenales. Ellos todavía Duermen a través de todo esto. Como un pez gordo Dando vueltas por mamá muerta. La cerveza. Deslice una bajo la puerta. Use La Biblia para el papel de envolver. Una vez que usted Esté muerto, usted está muerto. Woooo. Aquí viene La tortura. Déme el cloroformo. Rápido. Estoy muerto. Pero algo me dice que todavía Lo sentiré. No hay ningún cuidado aquí abajo Sólo, el con plumas extraño. Ellos mueven sus Alas como avispas tullidas. Ellos sudan Como un resoplido de toro. Ellos parecen satisfechos. Ellos han estado en el camino oscuro demasiado tiempo. Ellos andan nobles. Desnudos. Como ratas De la selva. Civilizados con hedor. Un halcón negro Esta sobre la cabeza. Este esta dando vuelta. Parece a Un albino ahora. Deseo, deseo que yo tuviera un Helicóptero. Aquí viene la tortura. Déme El cloroformo. Un tiro de güisqui lo hará. Avispas tullidas fuera de mi camino. Deslícese Una bajo la puerta. Por favor. La primera vez Alguna vez dije esto. Gato dando vueltas. Donde Había diablos yo no vi ninguno. Deseo que yo tuviera Un helicóptero. Me pregunto si el sexo es parte del Programa muerto. Pienso que perdí la soga y la cabra. *816 8/27/2005 See Mr. Siluk's books at http://www.amazon.com
MORE RESOURCES:
Poetry - Google News |
|
|
|
RELATED ARTICLES
The Art of Receiving Poetic Critique You can show your poem to your mom, your spouse, your co-workers, or your friends, but you might not get the responses that you can suck up into your little writing fingers to use in an effort to refine your craft. What does it really mean when someone who cares about you, but not for poetry says, "Wow, this is great. The Exit Poems [Iron and Fire & No Heroes] The Exit Poems [And Socrates]Iron and FireIron can be soften by fire- grows hard in the cold; and all the gates therein are, as it was, closed again. So, often are those misled? by luxury and pride, who push humility aside-: thus, redemption their vanity and perfection their virtue? and in the end, they all collided. Tale of the: Old Hunter and the Golden 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. Commuting Hell! It's dark, it's cold, its' just six thirty,thoughts of sleep still dull my brain,As I huddle down, inside my coat,a commuter clone, just waiting for a train.Insidious rain, just drizzling down,through weak light of creeping dawn,Paper sandwich bags and old coffee cups,blowing past, look so forlorn. 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 waiting 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 adored the biggest lake in the world. Preserving Dignity No one should have to beg or crawl before humanity. No one should have to scheme to procure philanthropy. Tsunami Day A Poem - By Lorraine KemberIt was a day like any other and mother, father, sister, brother, were carrying out the customs of their land. When suddenly without warning, Mother Nature came calling, shook the earth and stole the ocean from the sand. Listen as I Share: WE You speak simple, completley understandable justifications I respect them, respect you, honor what you tell me and even though I know where you're coming from, I just wanted to share with you, let you hear: my heart.. 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 nobody else has ever loved me in my life. The Valley Of Pain We were exiled from the Garden of Eden. Its sinless wonders nevermore to regain. Rhymes of an Ordnance Man [Vietnam War: 1971] Rhymes of an Ordnance Man [Vietnam War: 1971]An eleven part poem By Dennis L. SilukI had went to Vietnam at the age of 23 [1971], and it was most interesting, there were 205,000 troops there when I arrived. Joined JOINEDHeart beat of man pounding - yet unheard joined becomes the beat of a nation.Words of man written - yet unread joined becomes a proclamation. Biography of Charlotte Bronte Charlotte Bronte (1816 -1855) Novelist and Poet.Charlotte was the daughter of the Rev. San Francisco [Almost a Sonnet] (The city by the bay of Northern California, near which the Pacific Ocean resides; the year is 1967)Mid October seemed like some spring day,When through the poised waters, dry as lead, The ferry, like vague shadows that stand the dead,Slipped down the curved coast of Frisco bay, Rounded the Golden Gate,-and San Francisco lay, Before me, that gay city, pink and red, Hippies covered Haigh Asbury's homeless head,-My home, to be, I found stirring and grey.The waves busted on the wooden-sides; fishermenNearby with long necks, looked and cast again. Shadows of the Andes; Ollantayambo; and Cesar Vallejo [Poems in English and Spanish] 1) Shadows 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 arrived 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 through the Andes. Kafka Re-Trial Kafka lands resurrected in Crewe deposited by a silvery alien craft, And whilst he is wondering what to do He is asked to show his pass Or pay an instant one off fine At a cash dispenser of his choice And they are checking all the time On his irises face and voice.And of course they find that he is not, They discover 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 simply cannot be, He is not listed and he is not ranked He is surely not like you and me. The Lull of Twilight [Over Mantaro Valley] In English and Spanish Twilight, was now beginning. As forthe sun, it was down-down over the Mantaro Valley of Peru. Life is a Fantasy LIFE IS A FANTASY!A pink-eyed rabbit, fuzzy whiteHops in bedrooms filled with frightA child of six with much to knowHer father's basest feelings showShe knows of LOVE, only through himHe satisfies his every whimHe leaves, she wipes himfrom her chin!Her mother 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 really knowWhat source for learning could she go?Her mother regularly beaten if not worseThe cycle of violence - a woman's curseConflicting visions, dependenciesOne can endure 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 powerful men requestNever knowing 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 protect her from these menWho always for her lips, do 'yen'A state trooper in Tennessee Like every other man does see Her lips so full and luscious red Through the bars, not in a bed. The Cat Truth is stranger than fiction according to many people who have seen what happens around me and to them, on many occasions. Sometimes I have had others affect me in the same way. Cruel World Azra, Azra, Wake up Azra. Wake up Azra, It is time to go.
|
| home | site map |
| © 2006 |
