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.
The Bear-men of Qolqepunku
(or: the magical ice of Peru)
High up in the Andes of Peru
The Ukukus wander on
Glacier, frost and snow
Dressed in furry clocks and masks
They trek to find the mountains ice
Of sacred healing powers
The Bear-men, they are called:
In the old language of the Quechua;
Guardians of the ice
They cut the ice in solid blocks
Carried on backs, down mountain paths,
To family, friends, and livestock
Ah! Sixteen-thousand feet high, comes
A pilgrimage Qoyllur Rit i' ?
Year, after year, after year.
The Bear-men-, silently watch
Their glacier, slowly disappear
As if in thin air!...
They've now decide to leave the ice
The magical ice of Peru, in place
As warming temperatures rise?
This is helping the Ice Cap
Evaporate, in the 21st Century-
Perhaps this is a whisper?
"Is this the world's end?"
I would show you love in a handful of clouds-
Could I find the clouds, and find the love;
And is it love one is really looking for?
Fallen angels had love from heaven,
And chose lust in place, on earth?!
In hell one loves lust and thus, would be
Unhappy in Heaven I imagine?;
Ah! Maybe allusions is the strand we're
Looking for?? We're living for?
We live in the age of imagined howling
?with aches and pains in the mind
Fear of death-nymphs (well dressed)
Schoolmasters serving children a blotted
Light; perfect pitch, more questions than
Answer; disrupting the harmonic balance!...
Poet Dennis Siluk
To My Friend, With Love
All is still; all quiet; The world seems to be at peace. My soul is singing its rhythmic melodyAnd I'm led like in a trance to write its tunes.
You make me smilelike I've seldom done beforeYou give me a reasonto want more and more..
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.
The Power of Eating Disorders
I want to get closeI am afraid.Afraid of what you might see.
Learn About Love From Poet Rumi
Learn about love by reading poetry by a long dead poet named Rumi. No need to look for ancient texts hidden in caves.
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.
Satirical Poetry About Tony Blair
All Hail.Is your hospital full of aliens, despite new cleaning firms,Antenna waving buggies, And creepy crawly germs,Then dont waste another second, now were into election spin,Just complain, over and again, and up pops smiley smiley grin.
Because of You
You are to me my lifelinemy security.That scares me.
Two Poems: Black Poncho, and Spirits of de Copan [in English and Spanish]
English Version12) Black Poncho(of Saint Cosme Hill, by Lima, Peru)Lost in the grottos of Peru-By the hills of HuancayoBlack Poncho was given A treasure of gold?;By none other than, Demonic goblins!?in the form of scorching fruit;Hence, Black Poncho fooled The goblins of oldBy using his poncho to pullThe sizzling golden fruitThrough the Andes to Lima, Peru!?Henceforward, he was swindledBy a jeweler of dire repute.Thus, his life changed (as so often they do);And now he lives with:Thirty-five dogs, on San Cosme Hill.
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? .
Ambiguity and Abstraction in Bob Dylan's Lyrics
To many people contemporary poetry is a turn-off. The reason for this is that the majority of these poems are boring.
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.
Since Youve Been Gone...
My life has changedin so so many waysIt seems to always bein a state of disarray..
The Goat and the Rope [a Poem: in Spanish and English]
The Goat and the Ropewhere there were devils I saw none.nothing.
Three Poems [Lima; Judges and Evils Creation]
1.Evil's CreationThou knowith evil clingsTo tender peace-;Nor does it heed one's drowsyUn-enthralled grief?But softly it darkens Twilight's dunes-;With sprinkling shadowsStraight from the moon.
The Poets Corner [Three Poems with a review]
The Poet's Corner[Three poem/ see review of poetry under the poems]The Poets CondorThe condor fly'sAmongst the hillsIn open skiesOf San Jerrónimo,Near Huancayo?Forbidding anyTo near his path-Lest he dareTo risk a attack,Near Huancayo!..
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!..
Feelings, O How Glorious!
Sometimes we feel hard-pressed, Our backs against the wall; Sometimes we feel lightheaded, As if we are going to fall.Sometimes we feel fierce angerAt those who misuse guns; Sometimes we feel ashamedOf how we treat God's little ones.
Stone Beds [A Poem and an Advance]
Stone Beds[Pompeii's surge]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.
Kafka lands resurrected in Crewedeposited by a silvery alien craft,And whilst he is wondering what to doHe is asked to show his passOr pay an instant one off fineAt a cash dispenser of his choiceAnd they are checking all the timeOn 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 rankedHe is surely not like you and me.