The Ballad of: Brawling Mad-dog Sergeant Rook [Now in: SPANISH and English]
English VersionA bunch of us guys in the hutIn ?Nam
Were playing cards, singing songs;
In a solo-room, back of the hut
Lay mad-dog, Sergeant Rook;And watching from a distance
Was his sidekick, Corporal Cook.When out of the night, he wantedTo fight
This bully of six-foot-two
Dog-drunk, smelling like a skunkI wanted to fight him too.
Ode, to the Mighty Midget Omac [In English and Spanish]
Midget HistoryI am thirty-six inches tall, that is all-Honest to god I am
My hair is green, my eyes red, and IHave a very thick neckMy eyebrows are thin, and my beardHas three hairs?
And I bore abuse, when I was youngYes! It happened to be; day by day??folks laugh at me, my appearanceYou see?I make them appalled.
Four Poems: Grendels Nature...the Racetrack...Counting days...[Now in English and Spanish]
English Version1) Grendel's DivorceYou must know that I do not hateAnd that I hate you,
Because everything dead has twoSides;
A sound is one arm of the quiet,
Ice has its warm half.I hate you in order to start hating you
To begin life again
And never to stop hating you:
That is why I do not hate you yet.
Two Poems and an Analysis ['Witness,' & 'An Old Love']
Two Poems and an Analysis ['Witness,' & 'An Old Love']WitnessMy face belongs to whoever sees it
Everything has a meaning but life
Even the bugs strive for existence
God saved man, from God
Ghosts have lonely sins
Her bones are stones
Up and down the hill
I can not
Lord Byrons She Walks in Beauty
Lord Byron's opening couplet to "She Walks In Beauty" is among the most memorable and most quoted lines in romantic poetry. The opening lines are effortless, graceful, and beautiful, a fitting match for his poem about a woman who possesses effortless grace and beauty.
To My Friend, With Love
All is still; all quiet;
The world seems to be at peace.
My soul is singing its rhythmic melody
And I'm led like in a trance to write its tunes.
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.
Five Poems from Home [And a view on the planet vs. the poet]
Five Poems from Home1) Remembering: Dorothy Parker
[Dedicated to the 1920s Poetess]Let it be said,
Dorothy Parker lies dead,
cremated to ash and poetry; thus,
she died at the ripe old age
of seventy-three-.The tiny woman with a big mouth,
who got caught in the rain
and couldn't get out:
continued to play the game,
all the same,
like drops of rain
upon a pane.
Four Poems: Two for the Devil, Two for Peru
Here is some witty poetry (not sure if that is the proper word: witty, but it will do): one poem on the Aztec year 2012, a year that has been in the public's eye quite a lot; one on cloning, and the biblical end time events--which, if I may add seems ripe for the monster events that are said to take place; and two poems dealing with some tradtions of Peru; one imparticular, on vacationing, where not to go; all the makings for some thought.Aztec BabyOn December 25, 2012 AD
The Devil had an idea-
He'd clone himself
In the form of a baby;
Called the Antichrist.
Do you ever stare at the paper, waiting for poetic inspiration? Well, you can stop waiting and start using systematic techniques for creating poetry. If it seems too mechanical or artificial at first, don't worry.
Poetry in Turbulence
To many non-specialists of literature, poetry is deeply unsatisfying. There are several reasons for this, but two in particular come to mind.
Mechanical Poetry; Part Two
What do you do when you want to write poetry? I hope your answer is "I start writing." Even writing a bad poem is better than waiting for the "right words.
Five Mixed Poems, with Notes [now is Spanish and English]
1.Night in Jamaica
[Peruvianism: 1810]It was a rainy night they say
When don Simon Bolivar
Slept in the arms of beautiful
(of Jamaica); thus an
Assassin missed his mark
When he stabbed Major Amestoy
Sleeping in the dark
In Bolivar's hammock!.
Two Poems on the Traditions of Peru [in English and Spanish]
[Peruvian]Sometimes, it's not wise
To share your wisdom
---as did, Atahualpa
(The Inca King) in the
Game of chess; thereafter,
He was condemned to death.6/6/05 #713Note: Atahualpa, was the most famous of the Inca Kings, in the 16th century of Peru, I do relieve, and was held for ransom by the Spaniards.
Two Poems: San Jeronimo Brook & [in English and Spanish]
Fair Andes! Thy arms reach highOf iron-woven solid stone
Thu 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 tremble
Beyond 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!..
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