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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 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!. Two Poems: San Jeronimo Brook & [in English and Spanish] Fair Andes! Thy arms reach highOf iron-woven solid stoneThu 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 trembleBeyond 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 SuperiorRising out of the woods like:A swamp mistI'm waiting for breakfast(at the B&B)I pace the groundsThe scent of green shrubbery:Trees, flora, flowers-rain Intoxicates me-Branches like big brown armsDescend?The embankment, to the rightBlue eyed, like mine-reflect From the creek beneath me(my wife says 'be careful'she went to get the camera)The greens and blues touchMy face and blue jeans-Reflections mirrored like Musical notes of a symphony(I'll see them later in pictures)For now, it's daybreakIn 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 ZimbabweLooking down from the Hill ComplexFrom on top, of an Ancient RockO'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 highThat 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 workersCarryQuotas of ore-up hundreds of feetOf rope laddered-stepsFor don Francisco de ToledoAndKing 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 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. 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 friendsOnly to find rawnessOf their passion;And the uniformity Of their vision.Who out there can knowMy 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 woundsLet your waves curl and foam on my bodyWash away blood, heal scarsOcean renew me with your powerAs unceasingly you rollGiving strength that's been drainedOcean keep me warmWrap me in your brineCaress me with your tidesOcean disperse my tearsAs they flow in youI cleanse my soulOcean let me grow in your depthsColor me vibrant blue, coral, greenClear = revitalizedOcean your spray anoints meCool and refreshedMy spiritual renewalOcean be my friendHold me flowing in your currentsEver 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, buildingA 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 aspirationsLie 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 tightAgainst her skeleton-Rose no more, just drapedLoosely over unpadded flesh;Un-tightened muscles, and tissue,Lost its courage, no-fortitude-,Gone are the days and yearsThat stood against the Indomitable elements; The skeleton, now a landmarkHidden under flesh and bloodGuts and moral fiber, backbone?Collapsed from drudgeryTime, time: cascading inside-.Bones now leaving impressionsAccepting fateLike tarnished silver!.
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