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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. Grandpas House & From Iraq with Love [Two Poems] Grandpa's House [The ole Real House]The house needed painting Sun-blistered and flaking Grandpa started to have us Boys-Mike and I- start Doing some scraping-While he, pealed off the ole Paint, and started painting?Just a humble wooden house With several rooms, but Strong enough to keep the Winds and winter snows out, How he loved that ole house!.. The Crusader: A Search for the Virtue Inside (an excerpt of an Epic Poem) On through the darkness she searches the bones Seeking 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 blood Of the warriors disfigured and maimed; She carries no hope for the life of her love - For naught but his body she came. Ode to: The Ice Maiden of Ampatos Summit [now in: English and Spanish] Dedcate to Antonio Castillo. L. Five Poems from Home [And a view on the planet vs. the poet] Five Poems from Home1) Remembering: Dorothy Parker [Dedicated to the 1920s Poetess]Let it be said, Dorothy Parker lies dead, cremated to ash and poetry; thus, she died at the ripe old age of seventy-three-.The tiny woman with a big mouth, who got caught in the rain and couldn't get out: continued to play the game, all the same, like drops of rain upon a pane. Two Poems and a Short Story 1)dying in the bar [sluggishly]yet, I would crawl too upto the bar, it was everything, the dampness the carved wood the zoned-out-ness in my head dreaming; it was better than death? then I took another drink?so many I never moved much, like dead fish. my head split like an ass it was numb and, nothing else numbness was my homeacross the street, dancing on the patio the moon was out. Colorful Talk "I heard what you said, Red. Yet, I have to disagree. Looking Out the Rear Window The funeral rite concluded With the pastor shaking hands, Offering words of comfort I didn't quite understand.The undertakers came forth And summoned pallbearers' four. 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. Africa AFRICA (to africans in diaspora)africa here i come, africa africa of the black soul the soul of an ancient culture the culture of your timid tribes.its your voice i hear africa your voice of the talking drums your beaded drums and the royal trumpeter the metal gong of your town crieri have come to see your music dance i have heard of your ageless minstrels have i not heard of your swinging hips! i have heard enough and have come to watch wouldn't you dance for me africaafrica here i come africa would you not show me to your tribes the timid tribes of your sweetened tongues the varied tongues of your virtuous menafrica, black soul africa tell me about your gods your gods of the sky and of the mother earth your gods of the hills and of the rivers aboundshow me to your kings africa your kings of the ancient dynasty the ancient dynasty of rusted spear and shield africa, here i come africaHEAVENLY GUESTheavenly guest heralding thunderously in its own awake pelting on men as well, the gods gathering itself drop by drop. 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 air Underneath 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 it Until the hour comes?When the sun goes down!?When,Things get a little dim;Yet the Gorriones keep on swimming Gracefully, swimming, in the wind-Under the Lima sky? . 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. 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. Barriers There are many times I set up barriers and walls, invisible unless you come too close, And then you hit them.You wonder what happened. 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. Why I enjoy Writing? During interviews and general conversations with the public,one of the most difficult questions for me to answer(timely and thoroughly) is,"Why do you enjoy writing"?So due to the challenge manifested in such a question,I pondered on creating an answer. Many reasons came to mind,but after digesting much"time for thought",I managed to condense my response to three items. 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!. 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. In Poetry: Meaning of Words [And ...Rocket-belt] In Poetry: Meaning of WordsWhen I write poetry, I check out the meaning of words for too often they sound the same, but once written, and if spelled wrong, in consequence, give a complete different meaning of what I had intended; this I call a moment of damage control. If my rhyme is flat, and my cadence is off, so what, I can survive, as long as the meaning of my words are not; and are as I meant them to be. Walt Whitman, Romance With a Stranger The concept of brief encounters, even romantic encounters, with a stranger recurs often in the verses of Walt Whitman.Take, for example, these lines from one of the inscriptions that Whitman wrote to his 1860 edition of Leaves of Grass.
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