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Four Poems: Harvest of Apoplectic Horses [Katrinas Pathway]

Four Poems: Katrina’s Pathway

Harvest of Apoplectic Horses
((Dedicated to: Katrina)) crisis)

It has happened before:
Nearby and afar,
Where the four-horses of
Apocalypse
With their flaming nostrils
Breathed in the fury of the winds
Only to vomit out, disaster; -
Then galloped away,
Against pale faces!…

#824 9/2/05

The Vanishing
[Dedicated to: Katrina]

For a time, I left my body-
Behind me.
Still,
I resided in my darkroom-
"There is good in the world," I said,
The spirit of the world begins
To move-slowly, after Katrina.
I closed my eyes, thinking
New Orleans, Mississippi
(a prayer, if only for one).
Women’s hands, loaves of bread?
Appear?eyes of men tired with dread
Burgundy faces, huddled
Together?appear.
I say: thank God it’s not winter.
The world is silent (mostly)
A few friends hear our cry
But they are just shadows
Turned away from the sun.
The only thing worse than death,
Is this-the vanishing.

#825 9/2/05

Bones in Water
(The Gem of the South; Katrina)

Birthday Messages

I WANTED TO SAY IT WITH A BUNCH OF FLOWERS
A CARD WOULD HAVE SUFFICED.

I WANTED TO SAY IT WITH A PACK OF SWEETS
A’ HI’ WOULD HAVE SUFFICED.

I THOUGHT TO SEND A POETIC WISH.
POEMS ARE MEANT FOR MEN & WOMEN

DOES A POEM NEED A POEM FOR A WISH?
I WOULD SIMPLY SAY…..,

HAPPY BIRTHDAY !
************************************************
Morning I went to the church
The priest looked at me in awe
I never visit the church in mornings
“Father!”I tell him
“Today is her birthday”

On the way back the Sun I saw
Was shining brighter.
The birds flew high chirping love
I tell myself,”They might have known,
that today is her birthday”

All my friends were happy
For a dinner I gave as treat
A curious friend asked me why
“Dear”I tell him
“Today is her birthday”

I will never be dull even when the Sun is at West
For I knew very well
that I will live for the same day
to come again the years to follow
for this day will always be your birthday

HAPPY BIRTHDAY
************************************************
If you are married
your wife will be happy
for you were born this day.

It Was Not Me

It was not me as I am now.
It was not me as I was then.
It was then when God was truly in me.
When God was in me, I was a young man.
A young man with hope, will and desire.
Desire to give my love and the gift of God to the ones in need.
You see, that was me.

Thus, it was not me who hurt you so,
But it was me as I was then.
It was then when God was not in me.
That is when I hurt you though.

Now I can really see it was not me, who scarred you so.
Your innocence, your trust in me, the weak moment in your life,
Was abused by me.
But that was not really me.

You have to see it was not me as I was before,
Or as I am now,
Or as I will ever be.
No! It was not me!
It was he who was not me.
It was he who will never be me.
It was he and me who hurt you so.
No! It was not really me, who hurt you.

I Shall Wait…

I Shall Wait..

On all the new mornings, and every singking evening, I wear a small crescent, in the finest of my accent…

Those memories come up storming, that tender touch so warming, That lovely soothing weather, Feeling as light as a feather, With hands across each other, And nothing else to bother…

With a feeliing as to fly, in the open blue sky, That lonely bank of the river, and a mild wintery shiver,

With silence all around us, and the huge Eucalyptus The water flowing faster with our murmur and our laughter, Those cascading whispers, Calm nature being a listener..

The sky appeared timid, and the rivir far too vivid, That firm hug under the vine, Sent chills down my spine.

A flicker on the nose and a peck on cheeks, and then apart for several weeks, I miss, so much the warm affection, Soul to soul- a pious connection, The care in your eyes and a tickle on chin and those caresses par satin…

It’s lonely sans you, Oh my dear! Being far away, I feel you near I feel your sound right within, Like droplets sound on the terrace tin.

Give Me a Lily Pad & The Continuum [two Poems]

What can I do to keep this world in its orbital spin? I gave up trying to win the hearts of the many-. Throw the meat-balls against the wall, stop, stop!! Trying to make them spin, like God did in the heavens!

Sexual longings-a pathway to anger and rage- Turn the page to the cheap hotels, turn the page Give it a pathway to run, tell your friends, they’ve won. And don’t answer to anyone; hang up the phone?!

Don’t go outside the house, become dulcimer- Hit the hammer, the hammer, the hammer, stop, stop! The darkness of the night is coming, open the window I’ll, I’ll disappear, no air, no air inside her-anywhere!

Neck bones look weak, like honey over thawed meat: Everyone’s neck bones, everyone I see, even me? I’ll be a guest of hell soon, the land of no vegetables Or balloons?just neck bones, everywhere: everywhere.

The place where no one cares, no one cares, no one: Like unfed fish, fish, unfed fish-nibbling at nothing; In a four-sided aquarium, with-with piranhas? Give me a lily pad to sail away, today, today, today!…

#819 8/29/05

The Continuum

Contract of Death [Now: in SPANISH and English]

Contract of Death

I heard today, the preacher say:
"Daniel has warned us long ago,
Of the trials and tribulations we
Are now facing, with our foes?"

He says the ‘Antichrist’ was now
In Europe crying: ‘peace,’ and the
‘Axis of Evil,’ had already placed
Hidden Atomic Russian weapons

Under our feet, here in the good
Ole heart of the United States;
‘Palestine’s cry for peace,’ he adds,
Is a loaded Gun for Revelation 3:10;

America. A ‘Contract for Death,’
Is what he called it. Now what can
I say? If I turn the channel, I get
Mickey Mouse, if I stay here, I get

The shivers. But the truth of the
Matter is: are we not simply just
Waiting for the next trigger?the

Then, suicide atomic blast!…

#817 8/29/05

Note by Rosa: I do not think Dennis wants to get into preaching, rather he was concerned on how the connections were being made with today’s events and the prophet Daniel, whom he has studied, and the preacher was quoting. He of course put into his poetic form. He does it all the time, but doesn’t often share it. Kind of watches where it is all leading to, if you know what I mean. So for those who are not biblical, it may not be of interest, and for those who are, the preacher quoted a lot of the book concerning Daniel Chapters 9, 7, and 11. Rosa Penaloza

The Goat and the Rope [a Poem: in Spanish and English]

The Goat and the Rope

where there were devils I saw none.
nothing. the air is hot. milky substance.
I am and we are looking at this deep.
souls lost. we are looking at this terrain.
the moon is dead. over my head. like
a shadowy curtain. hanging. most of
the kings in westminister abbey are
here. all the rest of us are on the hill.
no ice-cream down here. we are the
discarded. the seduced. most of us slept
through our earthly lives. they’re still
sleeping through the whole thing. like
a fat cat rolling over for mama. pass out
the beer. slide one under the door. Use
the bible for wrapping paper. once you’re
dead, you’re dead. woooo. here comes
the torture. give me chloroform. quick.
I am dead. but something tells me I’ll still
feel it. there are no carcasses down here.
only the feathered weird. they move their
wings like crippled wasps. they sweat
like a bull snorts. they seem satisfied.
they’ve been in the dark way too long.

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 8/26/2005

Note: 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. We stayed at a Bed and Breakfast, just outside a few miles from Bayfield, Wisconsin. As we had gotten up for breakfast, we walked outside and into the woods in back of the B&B, and then back towards the Mansion [Pinehurst Inn], and discovered to the side of us was an embankment, and the poet, my husband, had to climb down the twenty feet to the Creek, and I took a picture of him gazing into the creek, a most captivating picture with all the reflections of daybreak in it. It will be used for the new book of poetry: "Peruvian Poems," to be out next month. Rosa Peñaloza

Blind Designs [a Poem] and a Note by Rosa on The Other Door

Blind Designs

Born today, gone tomorrow
Like a butterfly with no stomach
Born n the morning, dead by night
Oh-let me whisper
Oh-let me cry
What man has not learned?
What man will not learn!
In his pomposity, his rhetoric
With his abstract concepts
With his intellect
With his creativeness
He has become enslaved
By-them?
By them all, he will fall.
Ah! Yes-abstract concepts
Bombast and rhetoric
His intellect
His cleverness
This he leaves behind
To his decedents!…

(he has not learned he

has detached himself
dangerously from reality).

#814 8/24/05

A note by Rosa Peñaloza-Siluk, "The very first book Dennis wrote, "The Other Door: Poetic Exhortations", appears now on Ebay and Abe, and Alibis books, and elsewhere as a keepsake. It was 25-years ago he wrote the critical praised book, in classical poetry. Since then it has become a sought-after title for the author, with few circulating copies left. There was only 750-copies made, and 400 of them signed, a short classic in his genre. It is vintage Siluk, poetry-about people who love and get hurt, and travel, just about the whole gamut of life. He has been thinking of republishing the book with a new introduction by his wife [me], because besides his books on drugs and alcohol, "A Path to Sobriety?,"has proven that it will outlast him and myself, with all respect intended for my husband. Rosa

Ole Bulky Jeeps & Paper, Ink and Rain [two Peoms]

Ole Bulky Jeeps

Through 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!…

#814 8/24/05

Paper, Ink and Rain

This year they are half the size
of a pen top I keep at home
to mark off the place I stopped,

and precisely, the color of red,
of the ink leading back across
the dry paper, underlining?

past the next word, I’ve yet to read
you hear the rolling of the pen
slipping out ink drops like rain.

#813 8/23/05

— Next Page »

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