Stone Beds [A Poem and an Advance]
Advance: after the great eruption of Pompeii's nearby volcano, Vesuvius, some two-thousand years ago in the heyday of the Roman Empire, what was left of the city were mostly ashes of stone from an unleashing furnace; it is hard to imagine what the people went through (none, not one person survived). I can only guess from the looks of the city today, and in its early excavations, its people were baked alive or asleep, like pottery. In many cases, beds were turned into stones. I have been to Italy twice, and Pompeii, most be the most blazing archeological sites in the world.
For those not familiar with Pompeii, (the city, for there was also a General in the Roman Army, called Pompeii, whom gave his name to the city), for those folks, let me clarify: just the name stimulates deep slurs if not down right nightmarish emotions.
Pompeii is located by the Bay of Neapolis. The time of the eruption, was A.D. 79. Pompeii, was a resort city, as you might think of Los Vegas. It was the Roman Empires richest city, with luxurious villas, and all seemed to live a most enjoyable lifestyle. This city reminds me of the Titanic, and Sodom and Gomorra. Yes, Pompeii was a most corrupt and violent city, or town-let, as some would have it.
Skulls stained from
Red cerebral matter,
Like a glass that shattered;
Dim and faint was their fate.
The shapes of bodies?;
Like eggs packed,
In clay pottery!...
Note: 5/8/05 #642
Author/Poet Dennis Siluk, http://dennissiluk.tripod.com
I WANTED TO SAY IT WITH A BUNCH OF FLOWERS A CARD WOULD HAVE SUFFICED.I WANTED TO SAY IT WITH A PACK OF SWEETS A' HI' WOULD HAVE SUFFICED.
Azra, Azra,Wake up Azra.Wake up Azra,It is time to go.
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.
A Different Place...
I wish we had met 20 years ago..
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!..
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.
Let Your Feelings Be Your Guide
The light of all eternity shines with me now / My feelings light up my life / How I find my way is determined by them / They illumine my path and show me who I amWhen I was young, I felt so many things / Then came the day when I could not stand the pain / My world was chaos then, filled with sorrow and grief / So I closed up to protect that fragile Self withinYears would go by before I could open again / I was forced to by circumstances beyond my control / Life dealt me blows which I later recognized as my own / To awaken me to that sorrow deep within my SoulI worked hard to find my way back to the Light / To that place within where I could feel once again / There my Heart shone forth with a brave face / And shed light on all that I had concealedNow I see how I closed that tender-hearted Self / How I froze in the face of my destiny / Troubles swirled around as a constant source of grief / And I fell to sleep out of fearI am awakening now to the deep void within / Where I've stored all those troubles and pain / I fight my way back to that center once again / So I can come forth completely and be trueMy life moves forward as of this day / When I committed to finding my true Self / I've engaged all manner of demons on this journey / To return to that Source deep insideI wish for life to fill me now and bring all it can / I am thirsty for experience and for growth / I want lavish riches from my Soul to fill me / So that I can truly enjoy all that I beholdThis work is sometimes difficult as I have learned / But no more than any task requiring Love / This journey enriches me with its purpose / And fills me with Life and SoulThis is my gift to myself, my own holy Soul / To have, to hold and to behold / This Heart that bled is now healing its wounds / And can prosper again from what Life bringsLet there never be a return to where hurts cramp me up / And fill me with bitterness and pain / I am awake now, yes, and can move ahead / To appreciate all that Life has assignedOh glory to you, my Sweet Soul, for coming this day / I thank you from the bottom of my Heart / We two can sing together the praises of Love / That take us forward on this journey through timeNever let it be said that one so deserving / Could not find his or her way Home / All whom will follow shall see this Light in turn / And know that their journey can be wonI take you with me now, my Sweet Soul / For you are here in my hands / Where I can behold you / And together, we can be so bold"Move on," you say to me. "Move on, my love / The Light wishes for us to do so" / And my Heart sings with the possibilities / So that "Yes" is the answer I can render with easeMy Heart is filled with Love and joy in this moment / Knowing that I am with you, my Soul / My feelings tell me you are there and always were / Till that sleep came over me earlier onBy awakening to your touch do I know You / And find my own truth there in your eyes / You show me through Love what my purpose can be / I am inspired by this attentive designI am pleased we are here together, in this life / I am pleased that our love is so strong / For now I can reach you, my Sweet Soul Sublime / When you call to me from deep within my HeartI have your answer Dear, and know this to be true / That you and I are forever to be born / In this life or another, we join with each other / And We Soar .
Ballade of an Inca King
Ah! Leave the gold, wealth and landSays the Inca King?;In Spain, they leave the bustling streets,For sail to Peruvian shores;The murmur of the gold is sweet,It glows and glistens like the sunA mountain of gold, or the graveAwaits the human, Inca-god?!Spaniards sing their songs of victoryWhere breaks the green Peruvian sea;Who now, worships the Inca King (?) Guarded behind prisons doors-?They chatter about his golden ringsThey watch the winds cross the shores?They count the days that idle by,For gold they worship and will die.Envoy.
Three Love Poems [all wicked]
Advance: Mr. Dennis Siluk's poetry can have its fire-hearted twists: as with 'Lovers'.
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.
Welcome to the Town of Feeling
Happy, Sad, Mad and Glad,Moved in down the streetCautious watched them, from her window,Wondering, which one should 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 Welcome the new neighbors to Feeling.
JOINEDHeart beat of manpounding - yet unheardjoined becomes thebeat of a nation.Words of man written - yetunreadjoinedbecomes a proclamation.
Testimony to the Night [In English and Spanish]
In the quiet of the arctic night-In its deep northern skies,Dim are the lights, in its coldEvening frost?!Even the stars of the arcticSeem silently stone frozen!Here, here is where you findPeace and the beast within-!Remote, no ears or wordsTo clutter the mindTo entrench the throat;Here, here is where you die?(for a moment).Here, the sky has eternal eyesEyes with cosmic tidesTides that never rest: they warWith the Universe-Likened to a dark deep abyss;Endless and never resting?Here my eyes seek and searchIn countless hours, ebbing andSweeping the heavens aboveNumbing, changeless-Are the cosmos, the heavens?Here resides a strange peace?Here, resides a strange peaceWith an army of stars to defeatShinning, silently in the darkThe ebbing, eldritch dark;Time has no relevance here,Here, resides a strange, peace?Cold and oddly numb are my feet,As I look up, upon the many bridgesOne star bridging the next-as if,If Kings and Queens wereGuarding them-the Hosts-O-Yes! A strange, strange peace?Ah! Praise, praise be to thee, to theeFlaming, blazing firmaments-ye,Ye, remind me not, of the wars I left,Of the foes, divine immortals?The enemies that never restAh! Praise, praise be to thee, to theeI hear music, harmony from afar (there)There are storms hidden in a storehouse,For tomorrow-war beyond, beyondOrion's dust?perpetual dust;There, there the sun is dim to bleak.
Shaking out the Rugs [Following the Poet]
Let's follow the poet to hisHell and heaven! Count hisGhosts and dilemma's?Reach out to touch hisStretched-out skies; let's followThe poet to see where he lays.Let's follow the poet to his end;To see if he can?whateverHe wants to do, do over again?.
Chan Chan and The Gorriones (Two Poems in English and Spanish)
The following two poems, one in English, the other in English and Spanish were done during this ongoing trip in Peru, while in Lima, although the poem concerning: Chan Chan was oriinally started last year,while at the ancient site in Northern Peru, it was just finished recently.The Gorriones of LimaIt is fall all around me-The Gorriones are swimming in the airUnderneath the Lima skyAs if-, if fish could fly?Summer has gone its wayIt is fall again I say!The birds-, they just walk on byLooking, as if, if on parade-AndThe world keeps spinning;They just do not see itUntil the hour comes?When the sun goes down!?When,Things get a little dim;Yet the Gorriones keep on swimmingGracefully, swimming, in the wind-Under the Lima sky? .
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 person to do?It is not bacteriaAlthough it can eat away my soulIt is not a virusYet, it can keep me from feeling wholeI know what will do the trick,What will put me back on top,A great big bowl of Ice CreamWill really 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 getting 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 seeThe Fears I want to killI will do, whatever it takesTo keep the monsters still.
You make me smilelike I've seldom done beforeYou give me a reasonto want more and more..
Exalted Poetry; Two poem [and commentary]
Bells for Belphegor!..
The Last King of Mars [A Poetic Mytho]
[As Told by the Last] King: it was in the year 23,700 BC that one of the two moons of earth was hit by a meteor that of which, a great part of the moon broke off and hit earth's surface with a devastating impact. Thus the solar system absorbed a cataclysm in unimaginable proportions, from Jupiter to Mars; knocking Earth out of its 100,000-year Ice Age.
I Hate The Wait (Weight)
I get up in the morningAnd want to stay in bedOh, so nice and warmLike fresh from the oven bread.My day is oh so busyI wish that I could stayIn the quiet of my houseIf only I could play.
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