Advance: in Mr. Siluk's poetry one finds symbolist values, sensuous impressions; verbal magic and even childish jingles; at times the popular 8-syllable verse (ballad metre). Free verse, with lamenting poetic moods, even satire (poems inside-out). Here are a few more of his recently written poems. Rosa Peñaloza.
Lamenting Poetic Moods
(Six Poems)
By Dennis Siluk
Spring Scene: Rain
[Along the Mississippi]
Dusk descends. A mist
shows nothing of kindness.
And now, as the sun falls,
a dead pale gleam, hardly
seen...
covers the city, along the
Mississippi--;
With tarnished spring rain--!
Everything is cold and gray.
No moon at all, just pale drab
rain...
Bleak rain, all night and day;
Pale-bleak rain, along the
Mississippi--.
Note: #670 [5/16/05]; inspired by the rain;
in St. Paul, Minnesota; and Juan Ramon Jimenez.
Wariwilca
[Ancient ruins by the Andes of Peru, 700 AD]
Ancient ruins, hidden away
In the Mantaro Valley
Huancayo...
A scent of silence...resides
In the quiet skies
Of Wariwilca!...
A cheerful breeze clashes my knees
As I kneel down
And Drink from its spring...
In the quiet corners of
The ruins, spirits still linger
Unruffled....
#671/5/16/05
American Society:
Yellow moon-light
We are Christians, but have
Not faith--!
We are ecclesiastical but
Not spiritual--!
We have no roots, but we
Have big feet!
It is a land of everyone
Ruled by everyone
Even mystics--!
We have the mountain and sky
And we all try to fly--!
We love God, with or
Without Him--!
It should be made clear--
We are preoccupied with:
Death, money and beer!
(And most folks hate poetry
At best.)
Our youth and Congress
With long grass and low skies--
Are on a road that leads to lies!
As for me--
Books, New York City, just before
Dawn: yellow moon-light shines through
My empty room....
Farewell, farewell; next stop
My poems becomes alive
With cosmic crap--!
#669
White Peril
Weakness rides the humans of life!
Humans against the anguish of Satan!
He feels wronged and thus, suffers
Madly with his blemished soul!
They are many; but they exist, they
...paint white fences for weak humans.
The poor...the poor! He slaps their face;
Puts them in place; gives gilt filled destinies.
Weakness rides the humans of life!
Madly with the blemished soul of Satan...:
Crazed eyes, shoulders high, high:
He summons us...to his den nearby!...
#668
Cesar Vallejo's:
Feasible of Black Roses
Bow down your head ol' poet--
To face God's grace ahead
There 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 ahead
I hear the crackling of a whip
See the crazed eyes of death.
He summons you to his den--
The devil and his wind,
So--:
Bow down, bow down
Your blood stained brows
He will take you to the edge.
Closer, closer, I see you now
Ah! a moving satanic cloud
I see a festival of black-roses:
Hear a clamor in the crowd;
Bow down, bow down, Ol' poet
...I hear applause!
Forgive me Lord, I tired
In the afternoon of my life--
But souls are seized by devils
And black-roses at festivals:
On days that 'you are sick!...'
#666 [5/15/2005]
Evangeline of Lima
Evangelina of Lima,
Awoken in her breasts
Warmth at the request
For her hand in marriage
By the handsome young captain
Don Fernando--!
But obsession to gamble
Woud tare his heart away
As he squandered her fortune
And her diamond solitaire ring.
But fortune would have it so,
She died a solid wife--
To save her husbands honor
In the middle of her life.
Note: Inspired by Ricardo Palma, and his "Peruvian Traditions". Being a licensed counselor for many years, and schooled in psychology, and addictions, this case he writes about, was most interesting to me, and therefore I wrote my poem with it as an example. I do not feel I have taken anything away from his writings, and was careful to observe this.
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