Ceasar Vallejo: Black Roses [In English and Spanish]
Cesar Vallejo: Black Roses
Bow down your head ol' poet-To face God's grace aheadThere are no more trenches
To 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.
Closer, closer, I see you nowEh! a moving satanic cloud-I see a festival of black-roses,I hear clamor in the crowd.
Bow down, bow down, Ol' poet?I hear your applause!
#666 [5/15/2005]
Versión en EspañolTranslated by Nancy PenalozaEdited by Rosa Penaloza
César Vallejo:Rosas Negras
Inclina tu cabeza viejo poeta-Para encarar la gracia de Dios adelanteNo hay más trincheras Para cavar hoy ?En el bosque de tu cabeza,
Entonces-:
Inclínate, inclínate ¡Viejo poeta barbárico!La muerte monta el caballo adelanteOigo el crujido de un azoteVeo los ojos enloquecidos de la muerte.
El te emplaza a su guarida-El demonio y su viento,
Entonces-:
Inclina, inclinaTu frente manchada de sangreEl te tomará al borde.
Más cerca, más cerca, te veo ahora¡Ah! Como una nube móvil satánica-Veo un festival de rosas negras,Oigo el clamor de la muchedumbre.
Inclínate, inclínate viejo poeta ¡Oigo tus aplausos!
#666 (15 de mayo del 2005)
Dennis Siluk's poetry is known worldwide, and has been in many newspapers; his first book, "The Other Door," now a rare book to find, of which only 750-copies were made, is a treasure for many seeking one if they can find one. His new book coming out in October will be Peruvian Poems [in Spanish and English] look for it...see his site at http://dennissiluk.tripod [this poem wil be in the book]
MORE RESOURCES:
 findingDulcinea | Bards at the Inaugural Gates Wall Street Journal - Ms. Alexander comes from a political and academic family and is a champion of politically engaged poetry. Her father, Clifford L. Alexander Jr., ... Elizabeth Alexander, President-elect Obama’s inaugural poet |
Poetry reading to honor Paul Cuffe SouthCoastToday.com, MA - To mark the 250th anniversary of his birth, there will be a poetry reading in the "Ocean Voices" series, 7 pm Jan. 13, at New Bedford's Ocean Explorium. ... Hoagland to give reading at explorium |
FREE AND CHEAP / Memorial poetry reading for John Stone Atlanta Journal Constitution, USA - A free poetry reading at Callanwolde will celebrate the life and work of John Stone, an Atlanta physician well-known for achieving balance between science ... |
Tucson weekend: Wooden Ball, Craig Ferguson, poetry slam and reggae Arizona Daily Star, AZ - Spoken-word competitors will step to the mic at 7 pm Saturday for Ocotillo Poetry Slam’s “The Coronation Slam.†Featuring JW Baz and hosted by reigning slam ... |
Pelham Library Announces Political Poetry Prize Contest Westchester.com, NY - Pelham, NY - The James J. Nicholson Political Poetry Prize enters its second year with a new judge and an expanded contest. There will be three competitions ... |
Edmundson's January Term Class Offers the Gift of Poetry University of Virginia, VA - January 9, 2009 — It takes only seven days to begin to learn to read poetry well, said University of Virginia English professor Mark Edmundson. ... |
Students sought for poetry contest Statesman Journal, OR - SALEM — Students 5 to 18 years old may enter Mission Mill Museum's fifth annual Victorian Valentine's Day Poetry Contest, part of the museum's celebration ... |
 New York Daily News | Gloomy Poetry: Governor does his best with a disheartening message The Post-Standard - Syracuse.com, NY - David Paterson tried to stir them Wednesday with poetry and calls for shared sacrifice. At the start of his meticulously memorized, hour-long speech, ... Governor Says New York Is in a Perilous Situation If only Paterson's plan was as good as his fancy words A call for greatness |
KTRU pick of the week: Poetry on Record: 98 Poets Read Their Work The Rice Thresher, TX - Poetry on Record features a diverse collection of poetry on four discs chock full of readings by the poets themselves. The poetry ranges from incomplete ... |
Verse & Harmony: An Evening of Open Mic Poetry & Music Newspaper Tree, TX - Bring your poetry, songs, music instruments (with 1/4" cord if applicable), friends and good karma. A PA is provided. ... |
Poetry - Google News
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Colorful Talk
"I heard what you said, Red. Yet, I have to disagree.
Caught in the Arms of ED
YOU MIGHT THINK I AM STRONGI THINK YOU GOT IT WRONGI LIVE LIFE DAY TO DAYHOPING IT WILL GO MY WAYI HAVE MY FRIENDS AND MY FOOD PLANMY THERAPIST AND MY THOUGHTSMY EXERCISE AND MY EXCITEMENTTHEN SOMETHING HAPPENS AND I GET CAUGHTCAUGHT IN THE ARMS OF EDTURNING MY EYES AWAYFROM MY FOCUS TO WIN THE FIGHTTHAT I THOUGHT WAS GOING TO STAY.HE TELLS ME THAT I AM SELFISHTHAT I SHOULD DOUBT MY EVERY MOVEONE MINUTE I AM HAPPYDO I HAVE A RIGHT TO FEEL THIS GOOD?DOUBTING MY STRENGTH AND CONFIDENCEAS ED ALWAYS KNEW I WOULDI AM LOSING INCHES AROUND MY WAISTAND MY PANTS ARE FALLING OFFI SEE THE FACE OF ED IN MY HEADAS HE BEGINS TO LAUGH AND SCOFFYOU THINK YOU ARE GOING STRONGYOU THINK YOU GOT ME BEATLET ME SEE YOU LOSE EVEN MOREYOU WILL SEE THAT YOU WERE WRONG.
Never Ever More
Once upon a midnight dreary, coffee cold and vision bleary, all night sat there writing COBOL, coding spread across the bed sheets, changing syntax for the mainframe,having checked my final line, I took the floppy from the drive.Typing with a steady hand,I then invoked the SAVE command,but there below my effectuation,appeared the cryptic communication,"Abort, Retry, Ignore" and nothing more.
Mother, I Dont Mind The Pain
I am among those who know that one never recovers from the loss of one deeply loved. We come to accept the death and adjust our lives - rather begrudingly, but we do not recover, we survive.
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.
The Ballad of: Brawling Mad-dog Sergeant Rook [Now in: SPANISH and English]
English VersionA bunch of us guys in the hutIn ?NamWere playing cards, singing songs;In a solo-room, back of the hutLay mad-dog, Sergeant Rook;And watching from a distanceWas his sidekick, Corporal Cook.When out of the night, he wantedTo fightThis bully of six-foot-twoDog-drunk, smelling like a skunkI wanted to fight him too.
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.
Two Poems with Triggers [and a commentary]
So Many Einstein'sThe morning mist, insists there is a God.The earth remains faithful to its orbit.
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.
The Crusader: A Search for the Virtue Inside (an excerpt of an Epic Poem)
On through the darkness she searches the bonesSeeking the hand of her love;Deep in the stillness, the maid searches on,Petitioning help from above.Onward she gropes through the flesh and the bloodOf the warriors disfigured and maimed;She carries no hope for the life of her love -For naught but his body she came.
Ole Bulky Jeeps & Paper, Ink and Rain [two Peoms]
Ole Bulky JeepsThrough late summer's heatThese bulky shaped jeepsRide by house and farmCity and barn-Hungry for Spring-again, hoping to avoidThe Slipping and slidingOf winter's ice and wind?[s]Their weighty legs are dirtyFrom moving dust and rain(Here and there, everywhere)Through all kinds of terrainLike moving clouds caughtIn the foliage of the woods?They never slow down a tingThey have a duty, and give.It's part of how they live-In military-, bulky ole jeeps!.
My Final Defeat - Fixed Competition
She probably can't remember and I know I can never forget..
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.
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.
Barriers
There are many times I set upbarriers and walls,invisible unless you come too close,And then you hit them.You wonder what happened.
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.
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.
Whats A Prisoner to Do?
What's a prisoner to do when justice fails and the innocent is escorted off to jail?What's a prisoner to do once stigmatized,caged and abandoned and ostracized?What's a prisoner to do there's no one to trust;the system fails and the outcome unjust?What's a prisoner to do when family decidethe punishment is warranted and justified?What's a prisoner to do while confined in a cell;the perpetrator's free and faring quite well?What's a prisoner to do once his reputation is deadand his life has been ruined because of what someone said?What's a prisoner to do when he's not believed,though he's telling the truth, he's thought to deceive?What's a prisoner to do as he sits all alone,no one seems to care; former friends all gone?What's a prisoner to do sitting lost and idleand most of one's thoughts become suicidal?What's a prisoner to do when freedom's taken awayand the will to live diminishes each day?What's a prisoner to do when hedged in by strife;with no escape possible; no chance for a new life?What's a prisoner to do when he can no longer seethe beauty of the sky or the waves of the sea?What's a prisoner to do when the sun he can't feel,nor the breeze of spring because his fate is sealed?What's a prisoner to do when doomed to despairbut still praying to escape the electric chair?Tell me, what's a prisoner to do?Rev. Saundra L.
The Gaul of La Laguna de Paca
Part OneI 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 TwoSo 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.
