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Poetry Information |
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Poetry Information
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A Hundred and Fifty Dead [Korean War--l952] There I sat, ninety-five degree weatherOutside; the bookstore café, was cool.An Old Timer stood by me, explaining:"There were two-hundred of us on the Island,Near North Korea, back in '52-We guarded 16,000-prisners?"All of a sudden, all hell broke looseThree-hundred North Koreans cameOver the bob-wired fence, in pursuit"It all happened in a matter of secondsThe machineguns killed 150-of themThat's all I saw in the war of '52. Robert Burns Love Poem: A Red, Red Rose Robert Burns, a poor man, an educated man, and a ladies' man, is representative of Scotland, much like whisky, haggis, bagpipes, and kilts. He lived a life shortened by rheumatic heart disease, 1759-1796, but his life journey through poverty, informal education, disappointed love, nationalism, and literary and financial success can be identified by all Scots and common men the world over. 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. Ole Bulky Jeeps & Paper, Ink and Rain [two Peoms] Ole Bulky JeepsThrough late summer's heat These bulky shaped jeeps Ride by house and farm City and barn-Hungry for Spring-again, hoping to avoid The Slipping and sliding Of winter's ice and wind?[s]Their weighty legs are dirty From moving dust and rain (Here and there, everywhere) Through all kinds of terrain Like moving clouds caught In the foliage of the woods? They never slow down a ting They have a duty, and give.It's part of how they live- In military-, bulky ole jeeps!. Two Poems: San Jeronimo Brook & [in English and Spanish] Fair Andes! Thy arms reach highOf iron-woven solid stone Thu 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 tremble Beyond 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!.. Daybreak at Pikes Creek [a Poem] Daybreak at Pikes Creek [Summer of 2005]Daybreak by Lake Superior Rising out of the woods like: A swamp mist I'm waiting for breakfast(at the B&B) I pace the grounds The scent of green shrubbery: Trees, flora, flowers-rain Intoxicates me- Branches like big brown arms Descend? The embankment, to the right Blue eyed, like mine-reflect From the creek beneath me (my wife says 'be careful' she went to get the camera) The greens and blues touch My face and blue jeans- Reflections mirrored like Musical notes of a symphony (I'll see them later in pictures) For now, it's daybreak In Minnesota.#813 8/26/2005Note: the author, Dennis Siluk, took his wife Rosa [me: on my birthday] to Lake Superior, this summer, and I adored the biggest lake in the world. Famous Poets Quotations - Top 30 Poetry Quotations by Famous Poets "For this reason poetry is something more philosophical and more worthy of serious attention than history."-- Aristotle"Every American poet feels that the whole responsibility for contemporary poetry has fallen upon his shoulders, that he is a literary aristocracy of one. 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 Zimbabwe Looking down from the Hill ComplexFrom on top, of an Ancient Rock O'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 high That 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 workersCarry Quotas of ore-up hundreds of feetOf rope laddered-steps For don Francisco de ToledoAnd King 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. Savage Nature: The Life of Ted Hughes One of the most important poets of the post-war period, Edward James Hughes (1930-1998), was drawn towards the primitive. He was enchanted by the beauty of the natural world, frequently portraying its cruel and savage temperament in his work as a reflection of his own personal suffering and mystical beliefs - convinced that modern man had lost touch with the primordial side of his nature. San Francisco [Almost a Sonnet] (The city by the bay of Northern California, near which the Pacific Ocean resides; the year is 1967)Mid October seemed like some spring day,When through the poised waters, dry as lead, The ferry, like vague shadows that stand the dead,Slipped down the curved coast of Frisco bay, Rounded the Golden Gate,-and San Francisco lay, Before me, that gay city, pink and red, Hippies covered Haigh Asbury's homeless head,-My home, to be, I found stirring and grey.The waves busted on the wooden-sides; fishermenNearby with long necks, looked and cast again. Wars, Air of Ambiguity [for: Lt. Laura Walker] in SPANISH and English Wars, air of AmbiguityDedicated to 1st. Lt. Colorful Talk "I heard what you said, Red. Yet, I have to disagree. Farewell to Lester Graybill I never met a man, who could shake my hand, and make my heart feel like a hearth afire.I never met a man, who could smile so easy, real honest. Thank You To Our Soldiers And A Tribute To Old Glory And A Prayer For Peace Thank youDedicated to soldiers and their loved onesFor those who have laid in fox holes,carried guns,marched for hours.For those who have had cold sleepless nights,endless days of discomfort. 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 arctic Seem silently stone frozen!Here, here is where you find Peace and the beast within-! Remote, no ears or wordsTo clutter the mind To entrench the throat; Here, here is where you die?(for a moment).Here, the sky has eternal eyes Eyes with cosmic tides Tides that never rest: they warWith the Universe- Likened to a dark deep abyss; Endless and never resting?Here my eyes seek and search In countless hours, ebbing and Sweeping the heavens aboveNumbing, changeless- Are the cosmos, the heavens? Here resides a strange peace?Here, resides a strange peace With an army of stars to defeat Shinning, 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 bridges One star bridging the next-as if,If Kings and Queens were Guarding them-the Hosts- O-Yes! A strange, strange peace?Ah! Praise, praise be to thee, to thee Flaming, blazing firmaments-ye, Ye, remind me not, of the wars I left,Of the foes, divine immortals?The enemies that never rest Ah! 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. The King and Delka & Moiromma: the Cold Planet [Parts 25 and 26] #25The King and Delka [Split Mawkishness-on Moiromma /Part V]Sickly SentimentalityI have sought out friends Only to find rawness Of their passion; And the uniformity Of their vision.Who out there can know My cerebral verve?(Only the long dead)By King Moir I[Of Moiromma]Ah! the aimless cosmos come back to his mind as he stands on his balcony looking up into he eerie dark. Ocean Heal Me Ocean Heal MeOcean heal my wounds Let your waves curl and foam on my body Wash away blood, heal scarsOcean renew me with your power As unceasingly you roll Giving strength that's been drainedOcean keep me warm Wrap me in your brine Caress me with your tidesOcean disperse my tears As they flow in you I cleanse my soulOcean let me grow in your depths Color me vibrant blue, coral, green Clear = revitalizedOcean your spray anoints me Cool and refreshed My spiritual renewalOcean be my friend Hold me flowing in your currents Ever moving, ever changingOcean, heal me.© 1983 Susan BaconSusan Bacon is a researcher, author and teacher. In the Mountans of Haiti [A Poem: in English and Spanish] In the Mountains of Haiti(In the City)-July is a hot month-sweating Poverty out on every street (In Port de Prince); mixingMemory with desire causes stirring. Not much rain in Haiti (in 1986); Summer kept us busy, building A medical clinic, in the mountains?. The Game of Life When your life becomes unbearable And the light of promise ceases to glow, When all your dreams and aspirations Lie dormant on ambition's death row.When you feel that all is hopeless, Life troubles just seem to abound. An Old Wood Pile [a poem with notes] Old skin, once held tight Against her skeleton- Rose no more, just draped Loosely over unpadded flesh; Un-tightened muscles, and tissue, Lost its courage, no-fortitude-, Gone are the days and years That stood against the Indomitable elements; The skeleton, now a landmark Hidden under flesh and blood Guts and moral fiber, backbone? Collapsed from drudgery Time, time: cascading inside-. Bones now leaving impressions Accepting fate Like tarnished silver!.
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