The Gaul of La Laguna de Paca
Part One
I tell you a legend of long agoOf the sunken city of La Laguna de Paca,(Where I had met a lingering ghost)Within this region of Huancayo--Peru;Truth lies, but only the soul knows.
Part Two
So the legend goes, of long ago:During the rising of the full moonThe Mermaid of La Laguna de Paca, appearsAnd to the nearby towns folks, she echoes...Echoes: her cries and moans!!
Then when one thinks all is well--The enchanting rings, the rings...!Of the bells, the Great Bells, bellsOf the sunken church of La Laguna de PacaAre heard by the folks of the town.
Part Three
But there is more to this legend:For it is said, wherein the dark night(The ink dark macabre star-lit nights)Wherein the Errieness of the full moonEbbs across the Laguna Paca, gives birth,To the Great Bull,who scrotches the hillside
Scrotches the foliage to its bones...!Scrotches its with fire and brimstone.
Part Four
And now I tell you of my tale--A tale of that took place but a few days ago,By an embankmnment along the Laguna de Paca.
Here I stood, stood within its grip,trance:Aloft in the eldritch dark it lingeredThis shadowy configuration of the Gaul, The gaul of the lake, Laguna de Paca--.
And there in the giant eucaliptus (tree)It shifted and swayed, looking at me...Then at forth glance, it disappeared,As if it sank in to the great lake...La Laguna de Paca!...
#624 (4-13-05)
Poet-Author Dennis L. Siluk
MORE RESOURCES:
 NJ.com | Southaven student in poetry contest DeSoto Times Today The competition, presented in partnership with the National Endowment for the Arts (NEA) and the Poetry Foundation, is part of a national program to ... Hampshire's Poetry Out Loud Contest - Finals Kingston's Selvidge to compete in state poetry finals MHS student takes love of poetry to state contest |
 Telegraph.co.uk | Tiger Woods news: From sponsors to sex toys to Vanity Fair poetry (it just won ... Orlando Sentinel Tiger Woods won't have a new sponsor on his bag at the Masters, and his Joslyn James sexting text messages have drawn mixed reviews, including an ... Tiger Woods' Sexting Texts: Free Verse Poetry |
 New York Times | Charles Muscatine, Chaucer Scholar, Dies at 89 New York Times Charles Muscatine, a scholar who transformed Chaucer studies by turning attention to the French models for Chaucer's poetry, ... |
Ethel A. Smith, waitress and poet, dies at 101 Baltimore Sun In 1971, Mrs. Smith began writing poetry, and a copy of her poem, "Turn Back to God," which she sent to Barbara A. Mikulski, prompted a 2001 note from the ... |
Poetry in motion Stockton Record The fortunate young person was designated Friday night, when Stockton's 2010 All-City Slam Poetry finals were held at the Plea for Peace Center. ... |
 New York Times (blog) | New Shel Silverstein poetry coming in 2011 phillyBurbs.com The first posthumous collection of never published poetry and illustrations from beloved children's author Shel Silverstein is set to be released in the ... More Silverstein Poems New Shel Silverstein On the Way |
College of Poetry offers spring workshops Goshen Chronicle Warwick — The College of Poetry, at 7 West St. in Warwick, will offer two workshops during the spring term to run from March 20 until May 8. ... |
Premier with a flair for poetry vows commitment to China Malaysia Star LAST year Chinese Premier Wen Jiabao used four Chinese classical phrases and anecdotes in his regular meet-the-press session after the close of the annual ... |
Angry Young Man New York Times A few years back, he did time at San Quentin for beating up a mugger; now he lives off the beneficence of a rich Haitian who wants to support his poetry ... |
Art exhibit St. Louis Post-Dispatch Artwork in the show is inspired by poetry produced by students in the America SCORES St. Louis. Proceeds from the event will support the youth development ... Seductive Myths of Lightness (Sightscapes of an Insomniac) I, 2009. Image ... |
Google News
Memoirs of a Wastelands Rim [a Poem: now in Spanish and English]
Memoirs of a Wasteland's RimIt still was light when she paused at the wasteland's rim-Over, the rim rest like a sleeping brute, a wooden frameAdjacent to the blue where early stars hung like oil lampsHanging from old beams and shade?the wooden frameHer footing caught the beams, as she had fallen onto itAlone, she watched the forenoon, climbing around herA drifter woman, marked by life, and slanting dreams With appearance of hurt and molded muscle on her faceHer figure etched against the wooden frame,She tried to jump, and lost her balance, hanging like a birdNow sipping the gloom in the ledge and shattered hopesShe yielded before the sluggish advance of sunsetBlood dripped, with her dying darknessAnd a crimson moon hurled a flame acrossThe shadowy clouds, burning throughout the skyThe tormented sky above her?Crossing the valley's floor her eye gripped itRocky images, highest pointsThrusting herself up boldly from to the ledgeThe painted morning blushed over the rimHer brows and nose, face against the granite stoneMassive injuries was taking form,Her silhouette floating so indolently across the sunIt was too great a task-to die alone?she wished nowShe had not jumped?a thousand feet below, yet to go.Too much for any woman in a lost worldOut of the weak wood her mind had peace; She knew soon it would all be over-alasMute and protesting against life's uselessnessA narrow path lay below her slender bodyBetween death and attainment, a careless footThe rocks beneath her weakening, she plungedPlunged to her death, in the carving hands of the valleyThinking of it, as she fell, thinking with a smiled,Saying, looking up-dead before her echoes: 'Time is short?time is short?time is short!'When they found her, her face was unafraid of falling.
Joined
JOINEDHeart beat of manpounding - yet unheardjoined becomes thebeat of a nation.Words of man written - yetunreadjoinedbecomes a proclamation.
A Happiness Poem
If a happiness poem could bring forth a smile, Then my face would always dress in style.If my ears could hear my computer screen,From one to another, they, too, would grin.
Mechanical Poetry - Part Three
Have you ever read the lyrics of a Simon and Garfunkle song? Pure poetry. Want to write poems like that? Start copying them.
The Butcher of Lima and Footprints to Mantaro Valley (Two Poems)
Footprints to Mantaro Valley(Peru; in English and Spanish)In what retreat art hid?-Where falling mountains groanIn shadow and amongThe rapids of the Rio?Is not your name Mantaro Valley?Beyond the footprints of the Andes--?I can hear your voice in echoesI can hear thy voice, divinely low.I do but know thy by a glanceAs the clouds above me know? .
Ode to: The Ice Maiden of Ampatos Summit [now in: English and Spanish]
Dedícate to Antonio Castillo. L.
Death & the Supernatural: Poetry/Five Poems
Supernatural PoetryHere are five poems,-what I call-death and supernatural poems. Perhaps a bit bizarre, a few stanzas may be, but with unfailing subtlety of course, and a ting of acuteness, but we have to hag on if we want a good ride:1.
Three Poems and Paradise Lost [One for Hell, One for Heaven one for an Inca King]
The Torrents of HellHell's furnace-Likened to a chimneyVomits her torrentsOf flames-Into the airThrough earths crustAnd the earth's trembles-!Agitated, she projectsA thick curtain of smokeTo heat the feet of thoseWho provoke her every wish.Like molten ironShe waits for the soul(the moment)Then molds, into her enclosureHuman serpents?Out of savage flesh!No storm, no struggleNo eruption, no typhoon,Just a terrible phenomenon,Hell is capable of producing;And upon death,Back into the AbyssThey melt!.
Four Poems: Harvest of Apoplectic Horses [Katrinas Pathway]
Four Poems: Katrina's PathwayHarvest of Apoplectic Horses((Dedicated to: Katrina)) crisis)It has happened before:Nearby and afar,Where the four-horses ofApocalypseWith their flaming nostrilsBreathed in the fury of the windsOnly to vomit out, disaster; -Then galloped away,Against pale faces!..
Burning Autumn Leaves [a poem in Spanish and English]
Burning Autumn Leaves[1950s in St. Paul, Minnesota]My long steel pointed rake punctured And twisted through tons of autumn leaves(back in the '50s);And there's a hill yet, I didn't rake, I seeBehind it, two embankmentsLeaves I didn't rake a day ago;The essence of fall sleeps on the ground.
Footprints to Mantaro Valley (a poem in Spanish and English)
Footprints to Mantaro Valley(English version)In what retreat art hid?-Where falling mountains groanIn shadow and amongThe rapids of the Rio?Is not your name Mantaro Valley?Beyond the footprints of the Andes--?I can hear your voice in echoesI can hear thy voice, divinely low.I do but know thy by a glanceAs the clouds above me know? .
Live For Today...
Isn't that what they say?But what does that mean?There's no definition that mayanswer that question..
The Spirits de Copan
Part oneI see them in the skiesI hear them in their hellsThey whisper and they moanAnd never are alone-The Spirits and the Ghouls?The Spirits de Copan!They are shadows in my worldEchoes in my dreamsA mystery and a forceTo a cosmic happening!The Spirits and the Ghouls?The Spirits de Copan!..
Storm Rising along the Lima Coast
Storm Rising along the Lima Coast [Summer of 2002]?wind was blowing furiously It never left for a moment Bursts of fury I found it difficult to keep My feet placed, thus, I clung to my knees For one blissful moment I could not now disguise it From myself Some subtle feeling Manifested itself Then the current drew Sharply away from me With her mystery-Back out into the open sea Yet-, still it roared back at me! It was an expressed release It made my head swim I noticed it kept-step With my exultation!?#761 7/14/2005Notes: There are mysteries to the sea, at times it seems as to have its own mind, its own character; as if nature was plugged into all that exist. Earth itself being an entity with its own lively soul.
Poetry and Popular Culture
Is poetry too complicated for the average reader? Is it too cryptic, scholarly? If you ask a large group of average people what they like or don't like about poetry, you'll get a few different answers, but there is an overwhelmingly common category of responses.One of the main reasons that people say they aren't addicted to contemporary poetry is that they feel it is too cryptic.
Banana Republic
Like a cat I slumber, blissfully unencumbered,Through eighty per cent of my allotted span,Occasionally awoken, when dissent is spoken,And I invent another cunning five year plan,Lately it was pensions, that were being mentioned,So I borrowed from the French and Robespierre,Scrap all that went before, saved by tooth and claw,And let my all equal Citizens appear,Currently it is time, for me to be in my prime,For there is another election looming,I have to appear sincere, for part of this coming year,And assure everyone that everything is booming,Never mind strict quotas, Ive imported multitudes of voters,And told them which party let them stay,Though Ive rigged the postal vote, and defamed everyone of note,You never know what might happen on the day.So to be on the safe side, I swallow all my pride,And allow my people to hear my hallowed voice,And roll out the charade, put on the facade,And even make believe they have a choice,Next time around the crown, will be trampled underground,House of Lords and Lord Chancellor history,With the other Chancellor gone, I alone will soldier on,Yes, then there will only ever be me,Ill hold elections for you, as all dictators do,And fill positions with those that grease my palm,As for civil unrest, there is always house arrest,Or secret imprisonment for those that mean me harm.
Three Poems: Dona Leonors Revenge; The Old Moon; Common Sides [All in Spanish/all in English]
1) Doña Leonor's Revenge [1627 AD]Rafael Ortiz's fateWas on the plateOf Doña Leonor'sWhen she arrivedIn Lima, Peru;To taste revengeFor the beheadingOf her husband.And so the plot?was now played out(in an alleyway)As she gutted her trout!In SpanishTranslated by Nancy PenalozaLa leyenda de:La venganza de doña Leonor(1627 después de cristo)El destino de Rafael Ortiz Estaba sobre el platoDe doña Leonor.
Tale of the: Old Hunter and the Golden Hare [In SPANISH and English now]
There once lived an old man and his goodwifeOn the edge of the thick of the woods;They lived in an old run-down shackFor forty-years and some.The old man hunted for his living,And his wife sewed on her lap.
Ceasar Vallejo: Black Roses [In English and Spanish]
Cesar Vallejo: Black RosesBow down your head ol' poet-To face God's grace aheadThere are no more trenchesTo dig today?In the forest of your head,So-:Bow down, bow down,Ol' barbaric poet!Death rides the horse aheadI hear the crackling of a whipSee the crazed eyes of death.He summons you to his den-The devil and his wind,So-:Bow down, bow downYour blood stained browsHe will take you to the edge.
Three Poems: The Monkey Man of Lima, Plus Two More
What Hides behind the Minute?What hides behind the minute?It seems, no one really knows;How many times will we wakeup,To count the minutes gone?The rose was dead when I arrived;The sword, was rusty and dull;The window 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 earthly orbit,As the boundless world discovers.
