Out of the eight poems provided here [all previously unpublished], four are Poetic Prose, a few Visionary [what I call Vsionary anyhow], a few Free Verse, and a few with more form and structure, more closely to the Auden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
last minute cleaning help Arlington Heights ..The Monster Mash The Graveyard SmashHave you heard of the... Read More
Out of the eight poems provided here [all previously unpublished],... Read More
Little girl from HuancayoDo you really, really know? Just how... Read More
The funeral rite concluded With the pastor shaking hands, Offering... Read More
Truth is stranger than fiction according to many people who... Read More
Once upon a midnight dreary, coffee cold and vision... Read More
She raised me like I was her own daughter from... Read More
English Version1) Grendel's DivorceYou must know that I do not... Read More
What can I do to keep this world in its... Read More
now is not the time to open open that great... Read More
Happy, Sad, Mad and Glad, Moved in down the streetCautious... Read More
Burning Autumn Leaves [1950s in St. Paul, Minnesota]My long steel... Read More
In the midst of darkness, there is light. In... Read More
Bells for Belphegor!...Where immortal veils never meet Belphegor, Arch devil... Read More
How wonderfully sweet to be a dweller dwelling... Read More
Part OneI tell you a legend of long ago Of... Read More
Is poetry too complicated for the average reader? Is it... Read More
Kamalakanta was born in Burdwan India in the late 18th... Read More
BoyhoodOh me! Thy glorious days have flown! I mealy noticed,... Read More
AFRICA (to africans in diaspora)africa here i come, africa africa... Read More
Advance: in Mr. Siluk's poetry one finds symbolist values, sensuous... Read More
When I am climbing up, you are stepping down. When... Read More
[As Told by the Last] King: it was in the... Read More
Chicken Soup is good for a coldSleep is good for... Read More
Note: written 4-15-05, while driving through the Andes of Peru,... Read More
same day cleaning service Wilmette ..AFRICA (to africans in diaspora)africa here i come, africa africa... Read More
To many people contemporary poetry is a turn-off. The reason... Read More
Poetry is more than just rhyming and prose that is... Read More
Contract of DeathI heard today, the preacher say: "Daniel has... Read More
Explore the meaning of poetry and the motivation of poets... Read More
My life has changedin so so many waysIt seems to... Read More
Storm Rising along the Lima Coast [Summer of 2002]?wind was... Read More
The Poet's Corner [Three poem/ see review of poetry under... Read More
Footprints to Mantaro Valley (Peru; in English and Spanish)In what... Read More
I AM SO GRATEFUL for simpler times. Stores were closed... Read More
(The city by the bay of Northern California, near which... Read More
I can see the cerulean blue of the skiesOr the... Read More
Have you ever sat there staring at the paper, ready... Read More
What Hides behind the Minute?What hides behind the minute? It... Read More
Have you ever experienced infatuation with someone you know is... Read More
You speak simple, completley understandable justifications I respect them, respect... Read More
Sometimes we feel hard-pressed, Our backs against the wall;... Read More
Here is some witty poetry (not sure if that is... Read More
Is poetry too complicated for the average reader? Is it... Read More
Part OneI tell you a legend of long ago Of... Read More
Take some time to stop and look at nature. Pick... Read More
Have you ever read the lyrics of a Simon and... Read More
[As Told by the Last] King: it was in the... Read More
I never thought I would have to say GOODBYE to... Read More
Hammers. Timbers. Iron. Steel.They're laying down a mighty keel.As ant-like... Read More
Poetry |