Poems have different cores, or so I believe, and can only be structured well for certain figurative language-heart beats; like all counselors are not made for all clients, so all poems are not made for the same person, or purpose; when we read we all have our likes and dislikes; I do not necessarily know what poetry is per se, but I do know what the greatness of poetry has, and great poetry is close to an illusion?it carries an echo I do believe-figurative yes, at best, and questionable yes, by far. Here are five poems I've recently wrote, all with a different core, focus and style.
1) The Beehive [Poetic cut-ups]
[Paper] "USA Today," 75 cents, March 18, 20, 2005: '?it was acceptable in the l980's?as a cup of coffee?what I will not do is participate...to be clear, I have never taken illegal drugs?In my 19 years in the big league?Around the World in 8, days?.McGuire said repeatedly?recent spat of vehicle accidents in Iraq?Rice Reaches Out?Quest for Fame?Jules Verne 100th anniversary?Peterson to San Quentin?Jackson's young guests?Stun guns?'
[Sound] In the background of the café-bookstore, I hear the music of Nat King Cole: '?we are not too young to know?' Now I hear trousers hitting legs?Dishes in the dishwasher [café] ?a laugh, I think its Erica behind the café counter?squealing of galoshes?a cough in the background? .
[Sight] Three girls went to the counter?lady beside me writing?Michelle came up to my table, talking about her boyfriend?Mark waved goodbye for the day, just left his music area?lady in the front of me whispering?large woman with a thin sport jacket on at the front ordering food, talking to the servers (some food to go I think)? .
[Dreams] Voices that let you roam at your will, but to receive the voices one must stop all the echoes, shadows, aggravations-find silence. The subconscious can hear ever operation going on. I am like all warm blooded mammals: we all dream: bats, bears and beasts-like humankind. Dreams are the keys to keeping the heart beat, beating; stop the dreaming, you stop everything. Last night I dreamed of writing this poem.
[Epilogue] The mind, the mind, the mind: papers, sounds, sights and dreams-come in and out from all sides of me: day and night, and night and night and day, every which way. From all sides of me, like a movie; computer, filing, filing them all away, "?for what you say?"
2) Old Charlie Edwards
Old Charlie Edwards had an office About one and a half miles from town Most cars that came by you'd know why He owned all the real estate In town He never smoked cigarettes Nor drank alcohol He never gambled with his money From what, most folks can recall, during his formative years And until his High School Prom He'd play Monopoly year round And whip everyone Fine, as you may foretell He made his money just that way It was like playing chess, he'd say And he'd never rest, play all day And owned half the town Well, Old Charlie Edwards' Office Was always in the white Until the town's committee Voted to build an interstate Just to spite Old Charlie and his ways Yes, Charlie had to move From that old spot As you may have guessed And thereafter, Charlie sold all His real estate After that, all the towns folks Ran to his office to look around As if he may have left some treasure Laying about But Old Charlie Edwards Simply moved out of town Laughing and Giggling Buying more real estate in St. Paul!?
The Last Second
Angels come (sometimes) within arms reach but dare not touch the heart's beat; beyond its sacred melody? for your sake!...
Sid M. [l966]
Long forgotten is my friend Forty-year ago this spring- He died when he was twenty, And I was but nineteen.
I see us in our High School Halls, With boyish hopes and dreams; His face was always high-brow But he never looked down on me.
To him who died so very young, And now, so very long ago? In memory, unsought, I say: I have never forgotten you!
The Scent of Paris
Calm as a Paris?river's afternoon Warm in the month of June And filled with spirits, crimson people, Pervaded with a scent that could lead One's illusional dreams-to be!
A ghoul's cologne haunts my hands As I glimpse the bridges: land to land As I touch the hidden flutes of memory The scent of Paris-comes back to me.
About the author: Mr. Siluk is a world traveler, a lover of the mysteries around the world, and has visit many World Heritage Sites, his most recent being Easter Island, the Galapagos and Mesa Verde. His books can be seen on/at Barns and Noble.com, Amazon.com, Wal-Mart, Abe.com Alibis, Boarders and several other sites and book stores. Many of his books can be purchased through the English Bookdealers. He spends his time between Lima, Peru and St. Paul, Minnesota, and has just finished working on two new books: "The Macabre Poems," and "Perhaps it's Love," and continues to work on "Curse of the Abyss Worm," a suspenseful mystery, and "Cold Kindness," a tragic love affair.
"For this reason poetry is something more philosophical and more... Read More
now is not the time to open open that great... Read More
Since my wife and I are moving, or preparing to... Read More
The light of all eternity shines with me now /... Read More
"All bad poetry springs from genuine feeling."--Oscar WildePeople write poetry... Read More
Poetry is more than just rhyming and prose that is... Read More
We were exiled from the Garden of Eden. Its... Read More
"I heard what you said, Red. Yet, I have to... Read More
(The city by the bay of Northern California, near which... Read More
Fair Andes! Thy arms reach highOf iron-woven solid stone Thu... Read More
Time goes by to quickly to hold your feelings inside... Read More
Footprints to Mantaro Valley (Peru; in English and Spanish)In what... Read More
The Exit Poems [And Socrates]Iron and FireIron can be... Read More
You can show your poem to your mom, your spouse,... Read More
Ole Bulky JeepsThrough late summer's heat These bulky shaped jeeps... Read More
BoyhoodOh me! Thy glorious days have flown! I mealy noticed,... Read More
English VersionA bunch of us guys in the hutIn ?Nam... Read More
Asha of DarfurCry, cry-oh little Darfur woman For your sister... Read More
English VersionAnd the Death God said: "Let it rise to... Read More
Isn't that what they say?But what does that mean?There's no... Read More
"Beautiful Dreamer" was written by Stephen Foster just before his... Read More
Writing Poetry for TomorrowWhat does a man need to be... Read More
Kafka lands resurrected in Crewe deposited by a silvery alien... Read More
Amy King's first full-length collection, Antidotes for an Alibi, insists... Read More
Thank youDedicated to soldiers and their loved onesFor those who... Read More
[Episode Five]Arizona Blue-GunfighterThe Wolves Nest-in the North[Episode Five]Northern Minnesota Area?Winter... Read More
"How Do I Love Thee?" by Elizabeth Barrett Browning was... Read More
You are to me my lifeline my security. That scares... Read More
Part oneI see them in the skies I hear them... Read More
the disease of extremism is infectious-; whoever cannot think of... Read More
I Shall Wait..On all the new mornings, and every singking... Read More
Atahualpa's Game [Peruvian]Sometimes, it's not wise To share your wisdom... Read More
The Epic Poem:A Death in Cajamarca, Peru [Atahualpa, in Cajamarca]Advance:... Read More
Supernatural PoetryHere are five poems,-what I call-death and supernatural poems.... Read More
In Poetry: Meaning of WordsWhen I write poetry, I check... Read More
Take some time to stop and look at nature. Pick... Read More
She probably can't remember and I know I can never... Read More
Happy, Sad, Mad and Glad, Moved in down the streetCautious... Read More
Kamalakanta was born in Burdwan India in the late 18th... Read More
1.Night in Jamaica [Peruvianism: 1810]It was a rainy night... Read More
When I am climbing up, you are stepping down. When... Read More
Poems have different cores, or so I believe, and can... Read More
One of the most important poets of the post-war period,... Read More
How I wonder what he's doing as I sit alone... Read More
Burning Autumn Leaves [1950s in St. Paul, Minnesota]My long steel... Read More
I want to get closeI am afraid.Afraid of what... Read More
The Goat and the Ropewhere there were devils I saw... Read More
War bombs may explode demolishing man and land. Hurricanes may... Read More
Two Poems and an Analysis ['Witness,' & 'An Old Love']WitnessMy... Read More
My eyes opened. I am still alive; Living on... Read More