Out of the eight poems provided here [all previously unpublished], four are Poetic Prose, a few Visionary [what I call Vsionary anyhow], a few Free Verse, and a few with more form and structure, more closely to the Auden style of: stanza, metrical rhythm, and rhyme. In saying that, I do believe all the poems are conveying a rich network of meaning, some of them painfully close bond between pleasure and destruction. They should appeal to the senses and create images in our minds, for poetry is just that kind of language that most complexly and effectively qualifies.
Escape
Let me flee from
My vision, my world
My melancholia
My subjectivity;
My world which is
Now a prison-.
I shall change
My poetic harmony
From flesh to spirit
I shall be? a?
I shall be a poem
Yes, O yes a poem
?eternally!...
Moon-Path
As the fire goes out
And the moon comes in!
The flickering skies darken,
Makes a ghostly moon-path?
With the moon upon my face
A skull-like grin takes place
I choke the roaring dark,
To save the flickering moon-path.
Life on a Finger
If this is life on a finger
Why do I feel so dead?
Why does my soul whisper?
Life is more than this.
What has my life been plotting?
While the world cringes and reeks
Humanity clinging so tightly-
As it hides and silently weeps.
differences
I love fruit
and she loves candy
he loves beer
and she loves brandy
everyone makes such
a fuss?
everyone wants
to please-
and toothless
and hairless?
are most people,
I just want
To leave!...
Prose Poetry
[A view]
Poetic Prose: can be musical, without rhythm or rhyme, and still rugged enough to adjust to the impulses of the soul or conscience; or so I believe, and so saying, here are a few I think may qualify for such a test, four in particular:
First of all, I do not claim to be a critic or scholar of Prose Poetry, but I like writing Prose Poetry when I like to wipe fantasy to the side, for some reason it seems less essential for me during this stage. I'm also allowed-or, so it seems-to be a bit more moralistic, in the brief; my imagination can comb my travels more, people more-spontaneity is fresher with Prose Poetry for me. I'm even a bit reckless or eminently, or vividly uninsightful in the sense of hanging on to-or trying to- make a point. Thus, my prose might be called a critical essay, but it is not.
Even Shakespeare tried his version of Blank Verse with Prose. Victor Hugo, whom I visited his house while in Paris one afternoon, and whom is a great poet, as is Baudelaire-in my eyes, used metrical innovations to create prose, where I use very little. But hope to get the same effect. But I have learned in poetry, and perhaps the hard way, it is what occurs to you, that makes it all worth while, and obviously to the reader, who marks its worth; not what occurs to the other person; we have too much of the copycat crap. So here are a few new, freshly out of the oven poems in prose:
Co merchant Wisdom
[End of a life, cut ups-l997]
"?to glance at me?fine carpets on walls?Fish Fly around the room?the fart?water pills?funerals?age often keeps quiet?order a plate of bratwursts?pass out in the vomitorium?we got old?(and he shit in his pants)?water pills (ease heart stress)?boxer shorts?who is God? (he heard his voice once, it sounded like his)?Ah war bigness addiction?the poet aging on the stool?LSD?MTV?Jackson?Dylan?Elvis?Sushi?FBI? (the poet dies ((l997))?Beethoven?is about one man?Genocide?Skeleton?" In the beginning?:
The Brooklyn Bridge
[3/2000] Prose Poetry
The Brooklyn Bridge: she's on a bike, I'm walking. She screams:
"Get out of my way! Get on your own side! Read the damn Sign!" I say: "Fuck you!" (A pause)
It was a burp (kind of)-first words out of my mouth, out of anger?. Then I moved slowly to the proper side of the bridge, its street like walk; and enjoyed the rest of the March skies-
3/21/05 [#573]
A Tired Kiss
Poetic Prose
A kiss of a tired woman: lips of soapsuds, no lip pressure-; tired so long her mind forgot how to tell her lips to form a kiss?. Now soapsuds dance on her lips: form bubbles-depart like ships on voyages. Her kiss forms into a flabby kiss? then more like a hand-shake. Her husband (firm and frank) no longer looks at them; to him they are like dark-clouds about to rain. At one time her husband said: "You were the best!"
#571 [3/19/05]
Benevolent Furniture
Prose Poetry
I own furniture that dream-you know, like it has a life of its own; they speak their own language-; like everything else that circles the sun.
There is no soul involved though, only some, some awareness, with windows and doors; the cascading of rain and snow; assignment to a certain room, things like that.
I don't know what infuriates them, other than the impudent man. So, idol they remain, each to its own, I suppose; waiting for curiosity or admiration to bloom, anything!...
#578 [3/22/05]
Poems to come:
Girl and the Ox
The Cab
Curse of the Toucan Bird
The Lost Ant
The Baggage Room
Staggering
Dennis Siluk lives in the Midwest with his wife Rosa, and in Lima, Peru where he spends a few months out of the year. He has been writing poetry for over 40-years, and has had his poetry published in a number of newspapers, magaziens,books and in about every corner of the world. In l981, his first book was published, "The Other Door: Poetic Exhortations" now worth several times its original value, as seen recently on Ebay, and abe.books, launched a love afair with poetry. His website is: http;//dennisiluk.tripod.com
Rolling Meadows Cadillac Escalade rental .. Lockport Chicago limo O’HarePart oneI see them in the skies I hear them... Read More
Hammers. Timbers. Iron. Steel.They're laying down a mighty keel.As ant-like... Read More
Tale of the Brick Maker, Of San Jer?nimo, Peru... Read More
Advance: Mr. Dennis Siluk's poetry can have its fire-hearted twists:... Read More
It's dark, it's cold, its' just six thirty,thoughts of sleep... Read More
Time goes by to quickly to hold your feelings inside... Read More
Ded?cate to Antonio Castillo. L. Of. Los Andes UniversitarioOde to:The... Read More
1.Night in Jamaica [Peruvianism: 1810]It was a rainy night... Read More
Iquitos & the Amazon Part OneIt was December 2, l959,... Read More
Like a cat I slumber, blissfully unencumbered, Through eighty per... Read More
Have you ever read the lyrics of a Simon and... Read More
English Version12) Black Poncho(of Saint Cosme Hill, by Lima, Peru)Lost... Read More
In Poetry: Meaning of WordsWhen I write poetry, I check... Read More
Since Mohamed Ali?then Cassius Clay?announced that he had written "The... Read More
Amy King Antidotes for an Alibi BlazeVox Books ISBN 0-9759227-5-0... Read More
I will never think twice nor will I roll the... Read More
Fair Andes! Thy arms reach highOf iron-woven solid stone Thu... Read More
I WANTED TO SAY IT WITH A BUNCH OF FLOWERS... Read More
Wars, air of AmbiguityDedicated to 1st. Lt. Laura Walker (From... Read More
Writing poetry is an art, a way of expression, finding... Read More
"Beautiful Dreamer" was written by Stephen Foster just before his... Read More
In early fall, in Minnesota, the rain falls, falls, In... Read More
Poems have different cores, or so I believe, and can... Read More
Man UnbowedUnbowed by sin, the world of man, stands Upon... Read More
Most of my poems are written late at night, often,... Read More
Des Moines rental limo ..Since my wife and I are moving, or preparing to... Read More
What do you do when you want to write poetry?... Read More
BoyhoodOh me! Thy glorious days have flown! I mealy noticed,... Read More
Thank youDedicated to soldiers and their loved onesFor those who... Read More
The Monster Mash The Graveyard SmashHave you heard of the... Read More
AFRICA (to africans in diaspora)africa here i come, africa africa... Read More
A poetic comment that just welled up inside my head... Read More
One of the most important poets of the post-war period,... Read More
Have you ever thought about how nice it would be... Read More
Writing poetry is an art, a way of expression, finding... Read More
Amy King's first full-length collection, Antidotes for an Alibi, insists... Read More
Black Blood, in Jeremiah's Vines [A Dream Poem]And I heard... Read More
How I wonder what he's doing as I sit alone... Read More
"Beautiful Dreamer" was written by Stephen Foster just before his... Read More
English Version12) Black Poncho(of Saint Cosme Hill, by Lima, Peru)Lost... Read More
English VersionThe Merchant of Copan [480 AD]Advance: The ballgame at... Read More
In the quiet of the arctic night- In its deep... Read More
English VersionAnd the Death God said: "Let it rise to... Read More
Like a cat I slumber, blissfully unencumbered, Through eighty per... Read More
Ed Gallagher Dec. 11, 1907 - Sept. 5, 2004This poem... Read More
If you are serious about seeing your work published by... Read More
The Exit Poems [And Socrates]Iron and FireIron can be... Read More
Chicken Soup is good for a coldSleep is good for... Read More
Cesar Vallejo: Black RosesBow down your head ol' poet- To... Read More
The Torrents of HellHell's furnace- Likened to a chimney Vomits... Read More
Poetry |