Three Poems (While in Transition/English and Spanish)
Here are three more poems by the author, Dennis Siluk, while traveling througout Central and South America.
Three Poems
While in Transition
(In Spanish and English)
Poem One
English Version
Orange Timid Moon
O´er the Copan sky
an arch of shadows
weave their webs
with low-lights,
as the moon rises...
orange and timid-
as one more night
passes by...
by the shadows
of the Maya gods
de antigua Copan!...
Note: written while at the Copan Ruines, in Honduras, April, 2005.
Versión en Español
Luna Tímida Anaranjada
Por Dennis Siluk
Traducido por Rosa Peñaloza
Sobre el cielo de Copan
un arco de sombrasteje sus telas
con bajas-luces,
como la luna se levanta...
anaranjada y tímida -
como una noche
más que pasa ...
por las sombras
de los Maya dioses
de antigua Copan!...
Nota: escrito mientras estaba en las Ruinas de Copan, en Honduras, Abril de 2005.
Poem Two
Cyclye of the Buterfly
First they were an egg
Then a worm without legs
Then a Butterfly;
Then the new cycle begins
We´re back to the egg again.
But who was first?
The Butterfly or the Worm?
As all things are, it seems...
It was the rib of the butterfly,
Like Adam and Eve.
Note: written while at the Butterfly Conservatory, in Copan, Honduras, 4-24-2005.
Poem Three
The Simple Things
I was trying to think of great things to write
But I can only come up with simple things,
-perhaps, that is where it is at?
(that being:)
The humming of the plane
An attendent´s voice saying:
"Can I help?"
What greater gift has God given, than
The flow of little, simple things...(?)
How often do we meet kings?
Fly around the world?
Win the lottery?
It is the simple things you see!
That keep us wise and healthy-;
Busy, and free from mischief!
And so I shall close my eyes
And listen to the movie on the screen
While waiting in this flying machine...
(flying from Panama to Lima)
...sitting in this damn plane
Waiting to get home to do little things!...
Note: While flying from Panama to Lima, Peru, the author wrote this poem, waiting to get home to his casa in Lima, 4-26-05.
Poet and Author Dennis Siluk, is presently in Lima, Peru finishing some poetry he has written while in the Andes, and Honduras, and Peru in General. Waiting to go to Colombia.
Web site: http://dennissiluk.tripod.com
MORE RESOURCES:
 New York Times | In a Poetry Event's Title, Fuel for Debate on a Slur New York Times Sandra MarÃa Estevez is participating in El Museo's poetry series, although she dislikes its title. Now that word forms the title of a poetry series — “Spic ... |
 Times LIVE | Brown professor wins national poetry award Providence Journal AP / Tina Fineberg The night before he won the National Book Award for poetry for his experimental work, “Transcendental Studies: A Trilogy,†... Providence Poet Wins National Book Award Novelist Colum mccann wins book award Colum mccann wins major US fiction prize |
Politics needs poetry – so hooray for Herman Van Rompuy guardian.co.uk First let me say this: on balance, I would far rather that people in politics were writing poetry than not. Where are the poets in the House of Commons? ... |
 Spicezee | GCU resonates with Faiz's poetry Daily Times Prof Dr Nabeela Kayani of the English Department presented a paper, describing Faiz as a pillar of Urdu poetry. Faiz rejected fascism, she said, ... Faiz's poetry - a beacon of light for oppressed GCU pays tribute to Faiz “Faiz was a revolution who is evergreen†|
Pick-Up Lines In Rome: Sexual Harassment Or Poetry? Huffington Post (blog) It was a beautiful summer day and that sentence was a joyful verse of poetry. I wasn't at all offended by it: it felt more like a serenade rather than a ... |
Poem of the day – Death of a little girl StarNewsOnline.com A PLACE FOR YOU TO SHARE YOUR POETRY, ANYTIME, ANYWHERE. Welcome to our online community of poets! I am an aspiring poet myself and would love for us to ... |
Poetry with a passion Honolulu Advertiser This was the venue for October's First Thursday Slam Poetry event. Over 25 poets read their work. Poems ranged from graphic to heart-wrenching to beat ... |
Cowboy poetry gathering at Whitman center Grand Junction Sentinel Two days of poetry, music and stories will fill the Whitman Education Center for the Grand Junction Cowboy Poetry Gathering. The Museum of Western Colorado ... Cowboy poets gather for weekend performances |
Provacative PR hosts tea-tasting and poetry event The Daily Titan A Spot of Josephine and Jane, a tea-tasting and poetry event, will be held this Sunday at the MUZEO, an Orange County museum. ... |
bad poetry a hit CU Columbia Spectator The Philolexian Society kicked off the 24th Alfred Joyce Kilmer Bad Poetry contest tonight to celebrate the shameful pleasure in good bad poetry. ... Bright life in US inspires Amherst poet In Litchfield, Poets Are Gathering |
Google News
Two Poems: San Jeronimo Brook & [in English and Spanish]
Fair Andes! Thy arms reach highOf iron-woven solid stoneThu art a condor to the skyOf glory hidden in thy heartSo many paths, a maze of art?In thy old, Mantaro ValleyWhere adobes, breathe and trembleBeyond your rustic shadowsThere lays the prettiest of brooksIs my heart, within its stream!My image deeply carved, rippledIn its undiluted shallow watersWaiting, just waiting for me?As it opens up, opens up my soulMy rippled soul-searching-eyes!..
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.
Cruel World
Azra, Azra,Wake up Azra.Wake up Azra,It is time to go.
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.
Ode To Quetzalcoatal [Now in Spanish and English]
Ode to QuetzalcóatlQuetzalcóatl the GreatNo one knew his true name, so theyCalled him Quetzalcóatl-feather SerpentHe and his crew of nineteen: facesStrange faces, images of a prince, a lord:King of the Yucatan in the year 986 ADHe was a tall man; long cloths, sandals;White as day, with a long beard, black hair.Some say red: some don't say?But they called him priest, Lord, kingAmongst many things: god!.
Superman
So many looked to you for inspiration,Unlikely hero for the wheelchair nation.Proudly you fought and proudly you believed,Everyone loved you Christopher Reeve.
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 people of this land pray and understand-for He cometh! Thereof, toss yourself to thy knees, for the roar of rebellious men will bleed: black blood, through the vines of Jeremiah.
Kens Poem
How wonderfully sweet to be a dwellerdwelling on the road of goodbye.Bittersweet tears fall as I thinkof all the places I'll never see,all the faces I'll never know,all the joys I'll never share,as I head for the unknown.
I Saw the Universe
I can see the cerulean blue of the skiesOr the indigo 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 annual trekAlternately awakening the life in the earthAnd then fading 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 beyond 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..
Breathing-in, Minnesota [a poem: now in Spanish and English]
In early fall, in Minnesota, the rain falls, falls, In buckets, buckets and more buckets-: dropsLikened to music from its many streams-landOf ten-thousand lakes; moistened gravel, gravelEverywhere?Grandpa sits on the porch-daydreaming of, ofSomething, perhaps winter around the corner-;As the flies disappear, with the mosquitoes?Leaves will soon vanish, shadows will come earlyMaybe he's thinking about summer: miles and milesAnd miles and miles of cornfields; his childhood nowLong gone, he hums a hymn, a song; looking at theMetal-piped fence, he made, with three poles, on theEmbankment, leading up the steps to the porch;It's worn-out like him.The winds in Minnesota smell fresh, fresh from allThe foliage, there's a lot of it.
Rules for Writing Poetry
You've been writing poetry since that first assignment in your high school writing class. You know the rules about writing poetry, right? Are there rules? Well, if you frequent the poetry forums across the Internet as much as I do, you'd find that there are a lot of amateur poets who adamantly declare that there are no rules for writing poetry and if someone even suggests reading poetry or books on poetry, many of the amateur poets will throw up a defensive front.
The Treasure of Catalina Huanca (In English and Spanish)
Note: written after seeing the little adobe 16th century church San Sebastian, in San Jeronimo, by the mountains of Huancayo, Peru, after being taken there by the Wandering Quechua guide, Enrique (4-13-2005).The Treasure of Catalina HuancaWritten by Dennis L.
Song of the Great Zimbabwe, and Silver and Inca Blood [Poems and notes]
"Song of the Great Zimbabwe"Across the African, winter's skyIn the Southern edge of ZimbabweLooking down from the Hill ComplexFrom on top, of an Ancient RockO'er the mountains steep-:A, vista I've longed to see, residesA site, I've longed to meet-;Thus, dwells, within this African Valley,Among the greatest of man's feats?The great, Great Zimbabwe (Enclosure).A million-stones, built these ancient wallsSome twelve-fathoms, fathoms highThat seems to reach unto the sky;Some say: a fortress, and palace, it is;And perhaps-, the legendary 'Ophir!'#747 7/2/05Silver and Inca BloodIn the Great Silver mines of Potosi-(Inca Indians)Conscripted mine workersCarryQuotas of ore-up hundreds of feetOf rope laddered-stepsFor don Francisco de ToledoAndKing Philip II, of Spain-;A farcified vision to becomeRich-off Inca blood,In the year-1571?#744 7/1/05Notes: (The Inca Empire): the assumption is often that the Inca Empire was a large enterprise of its self; a common mistake at best; complicated for sure; but for the most part, the Inca Empire was comprised of ethnic groups who were subjugated into the Inca Empire, similar to the Roman, which was a city nation [Empire] you might say, who subjugated the whole world into its Roman Empire; likewise, so did the Incas of South America.
Poetry "Reborn" Emerges In Thriller Mystery Novel
Since Mohamed Ali-then Cassius Clay-announced that he had written "The world's shortest poem," I have known that I would be a poet. "ME? WHEE!" His triumphant proclamation evoking shivers within my troubled teenaged identity, for I reasoned in rhyme.
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 thereinare, as it was, closed again.So, often are those misled?by luxury and pride,who push humility aside-:thus, redemption their vanityand perfection their virtue?and in the end, they all collided.
A Death in Cajamarca, Peru (Atahualpa, in Cajamarca ((in English and Spanish))
The Epic Poem:A Death in Cajamarca, Peru[Atahualpa, in Cajamarca]Advance: This is a version, not a translation of any kind, on the incarceration and death of Atahualpa the Inca King of the Inca Empire, in the 16th century (Peru).Atahualpa, enduring in CajamarcaGreeted by De Soto, his free friend from Spain!"Be Calm! These times will be tolerant to you.
Shakespeares Sonnet XVIII, Shall I Compare Thee to a Summers Day?
Shakespeare's sonnets require time and effort to appreciate. Understanding the numerous meanings of the lines, the crisply made references, the brilliance of the images, and the complexity of the sound, rhythm and structure of the verse demands attention and experience.
Infected Ideologies [a Poetic Portrait]
the disease of extremismis infectious-;whoever cannot think oftheir childgrowing up without itis part of the phenomenon! (the choice of the day).fanaticism,--with a powerful ideologyare seeds for suicide!murder: givingreasons to rage!.
Three Poems: Liberty, Death, and a Frog [with Commentary on Liberty]
Frog SummerSummer grows hot, for theNew-blooded frogs;The bugs are thin, yet theFrogs stay fat, young and sassy.In these palsy times-they Only listen, as we wither away.
New Poetic Work By Ethiopian Immigrant Promotes Respect, Courage And Cultural Sensitivity
McLean, VA - "The Healing Conscious" tells the story of an Ethiopian immigrant boy on his fascinating journey to America and adulthood. Author Kifle Bantayehu, a 23 year-old second-generation Ethiopian immigrant, recounts this poignant tale in poetic format.
