Three Poems: Phantom of the Rocks; Lady from Lima & Bell Ringer of de Copan
Phantom of the Rocks
Night falls deep
Upon the traveler!
Low, over the Andes
They know a legend,
Not of this earth,
Where evil lurks
"The Phantom of the Rocks";
Should you pass thru there,
At night-be aware:
Expect not to return!...
Note: There is a rock in the form of an Indian Maiden; this is considered the evil spirit of the area. #657 5/13/05
Lady from Lima
[Dona Ana-1668 AD]
Dona Ana-but twenty-nine
Years old-Ruled Lima, Peru, with
Diamonds and gold.Haunted with pride and
Nobility?She dressed in splendor
For all to see!And pardoned a friar
Who was quite thirsty!
Bell Ringer: de Copan
In the cathedral de Copanthe Bell Ringer was a boy-and his only job
(to my knowledge was),was to the ring the bells?in the town-let of the cathedral.
It so happened that (one night
around dusk) ,the lad, with mortal anguish,inspired madness-in the
of the moment:rang the bells like Holy Hell!!
(As I was witness to this all.)
He rang the bells, as if they had
wings-!As if this was his sermon-.As he dashed against the Tower
He rang the bells like Holy Hell!!He rang the bells with Royal
decree!!He swung on the ropes like a
Echoes, echoes-passed through
the plaza-square;as sinful strollers, strolled
As he rang the bells like Holy Hell!!
And now tell me: what could
I do?I pealed my hat off my head,
And kneeled on a pew.
Note: Occurrence happened as described in the poem, April, 2005while visiting the archeological site nearby. #658 [May 13, 2005]
Dennis Siluk is a poet, and author. He is working on his 30th book called, "The Treasure of Catalina Wanka," and will have a presentation of it in Lima, Peru in November at the Ricardo Palma house, under the director Luis Cuillermo Guedes Ontaneda, so he looks forward to seeing those whom may be passing through, or perhaps live there. His site: http://dennissiluk.tripod.com
Live For Today...
Isn't that what they say?But what does that mean?There's no definition that mayanswer that question...
Two Poems, with Figurative Language
Says Mr. Dennis Siluk, when asked to review his poetry somewhat, for he hesitates all the time when I ask him to so; I can tell you. Anyhow, he said to me (responding more on poem #728, "Derivative Echoes"): "Figurative language, meaning words used to refer to something that you don't really mean, is used here to make noises, as are metaphors sometimes. Probably the reason I used figurative language imagery here was to tie the ideas and feelings my poem [s] expresses [ness] to the physical world in which I want it to exist." He lost me somewhere along the line, but it sounded good when I read the poems. Rosa Penaloza.
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.
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. This is part of the story told in my article The Man who Loved Jail.
Caught in the Arms of ED
YOU MIGHT THINK I AM STRONG
Walt Whitman, Romance With a Stranger
The concept of brief encounters, even romantic encounters, with a stranger recurs often in the verses of Walt Whitman.
Our home was warm in the shade of the trees or when the sun was not upon it.
Ceasar Vallejo: Black Roses [In English and Spanish]
Cesar Vallejo: Black Roses
Africa - Wheres The Profit?
A poetic comment that just welled up inside my head ? why cant we just do something ? before many more are dead?
The Dead God of Copan (in English and Spanish)
Three Poems: Liberty, Death, and a Frog [with Commentary on Liberty]
Two Poems: Black Poncho, and Spirits of de Copan [in English and Spanish]
Looking Out the Rear Window
The funeral rite concludedWith the pastor shaking hands,Offering words of comfortI didn't quite understand.
It Was Not Me
It was not me as I am now.It was not me as I was then.It was then when God was truly in me.When God was in me, I was a young man.A young man with hope, will and desire.Desire to give my love and the gift of God to the ones in need. You see, that was me.
Poetry in a Nutshell
Poetry is more than just rhyming and prose that is in meters and verse. It is an art form. It is something that can not be judged by its cover and can not be critisized to the point where it just "sucks." Poetry is about expression. Poetry expresses the way we feel on a certain subject through imagery and other senses. It helps us deal with our daily problems, be it good or bad.
Poems have different cores, or so I believe, and can only be structured well for certain figurative 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 necessarily know what poetry is per se, but I do know what the greatness 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 recently wrote, all with a different core, focus and style.
Four Poems: Harvest of Apoplectic Horses [Katrinas Pathway]
Four Poems: Katrina's Pathway
Savage Nature: The Life of Ted Hughes
One of the most important poets of the post-war period, Edward James Hughes (1930-1998), was drawn towards the primitive. He was enchanted by the beauty of the natural world, frequently portraying its cruel and savage temperament in his work as a reflection of his own personal suffering and mystical beliefs - convinced that modern man had lost touch with the primordial side of his nature.
Daybreak at Pikes Creek [a Poem]
Daybreak at Pikes Creek[Summer of 2005]
The Time Has Come and Buzzing
Most of my poems are written late at night, often, as this one was, after I have turned out the lights to go to sleep. It seems that is the time when I am most creative. I hope you enjoy these two poems that talk a little bit about where my ideas come from.
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