Hobbies

1) End Poem

Wherever you are today-
Is where you were meant to be;
It’s where God, dotted the
‘i’ and the ‘t’?!

2) God’s Angels

God asked his angels:
"Why do you look so sad?"
Responded one angel:
"Sir, we can’t find the shade."

3) An Empty Space

Out of wisdom one will wait,
travel far for love; the thirst
will not kill them. When death
arrives what will you tell it-
explain: why the empty space?

Shyness and fear will not
explain your surrender to your
mysterious veil. Out of wisdom
one will wait, travel far for love;
the thirst will not kill them. But
they will find it, be it in a winter
blizzard, or a cozy restaurant.

4) Onto the Mountains
(The Andes)

I shall blend-in, into the

Mountains-
Into the faintest thin

Shadows

of the mountains!
Like the moss on moistened

Stone

Like a leaf blown far from

Home?

(freshly fallen)!
I shall blend-in, clinging

To the mountains-
Into its faintest thin

Shadows

5) Dead Children

Breaking stones-
Who breaks stones?
Only shadowy faces
With grieving bones.

Lima,
City with the Stretched out Wings

It’s an ink-black night: no stars: a moon in sight

Just dots of: red, green and white-white lights

As the plane descends, descends, slides down
On the long-drawn-out-spun-out lingering city of lights
Uneven as a crumbled cake, lit up like a Christmas tree-

The sleepless city, with its stretched out wings

Stretching from the mountains to the sea-
Winding through the valley’s, forests, and streams
Stretches, stretches its naked wings-endlessly

As,

I’m descending, down, over and around the city
(descending, descending, and sliding to the ground)

The city with stretched out wings-and endless lights
Down, behind, around, the ground, it’s immune to me
I’m just part of its evening, a baptism in its inky sea

Invisible people: cats, dogs, birds, and rats-infinite

Uncountable: dots; streams of lit dots, dot-lights;
People: walking, talking, sleeping, eating by the dots
People: waiting, killing, robbing, praying, by the dots

For tomorrow, tomorrow and another tomorrow

They say-:

you are ruthless, and I know this to be true

And they tell me you have thieves and murders-

Let’s follow the poet to his
Hell and heaven! Count his
Ghosts and dilemma’s?

Reach out to touch his
Stretched-out skies; let’s follow
The poet to see where he lays.

Let’s follow the poet to his end;
To see if he can?whatever
He wants to do, do over again?.

Let’s find the poet’s soul, and then
Once found, let it go; And watch the
Afterglow! His indelible impressions?.

"Hurry! Hurry-up!" or we’ll be late
"Don’t worry," he doesn’t’ care
If we’re near-he’s too busy.

"What does a Poet do?
You ask,
"Besides write?"

He thinks all night. Leans against
A fence; moans and groans a little
Thinking how it should have been.

Shakes out rugs: too much pencil
And lead; then tries to clear his Head!
Asks God for forgiveness.

He rides the wind in his dreams.
He just came back from Egypt it
Seems; with more impressions!

"Dennis, I hope you’re not bragging
In this little poem; incidentally,
Do poets have homes?"

What Hides behind the Minute?

What hides behind the minute?
It seems, no one really knows;
How many times will we wakeup,
To count the minutes gone?

The rose was dead when I arrived;
The sword, was rusty and dull;
The window curtain was open,
And there was music in the hall.

Oh lovely minute, where art thou?
One, is not like the other-:
Whirling in an earthly orbit,
As the boundless world discovers.

#675 5/18/05 [at the bookstore café; Roseville, MN USA]

12) Vietnam: Shrapnel

Here under the ball of blood
In Vietnam, the moon rises
The battlefield reeks with flies-
I swear I’ll come out in one piece,
Or die?

The air-is melting Hot!
The heavens vomit shrapnel out.
A towering inferno-
My helmet, ashes and stones
Shrapnel rips by my face
The ground shakes.

You know you’re all alone
With the blast and heap of metal.
One dies today, trapped?
In the middle of the blast;
Two wounded!…

#671

The Monkey Man of Lima
[Miraflores]

Sorry would be a start.

Though you cant take back your mistakes,
and you cant unravel time,
you’d think there would be remorse,
for such a self serving crime,
to send others out to die,
to pay the blood price you have decreed,
when its purely posturing and posing,
all about vanity and greed,
to secure a perceived niche in history,
glowing down the years,
is the extent of your ambition,
is the puny limit of your fears,
when those you have sent to die,
believing implicitly in you,
leave relatives behind who see,
that nothing you said was true,
there is no thought now for those,
whose number you dont count,
they are yesterdays forgotten,
though daily they still mount,
no thought of resignation,
no apology to those left behind,
just onward with the ego,
fast forward from those times,
as if nothing ever happened,
as if your lies are quite ok,
as if now is what to focus on,
and then was another day,
lost back in the mists of time,
obscured by clouds half seen,
not an affront to the living,
not impeachable and obscene,
you may want to move on now,
and ignore your past infamy,
but you should be tried for treason,
and jailed for blasphemy.

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

Little girl from Huancayo

Do you really, really know? Just how fast those feet will grow,

On the streets of Huancayo.

Little girl with jumping jacks

On the street, looking back; Back to see whose watching her,

A little boy with a bird.

Little boys and little girls,

Playing in the Huancayo world

Do you really, really know?

Someday you will have to grow?

Grow-up to, be-big like me

Then you will know many things; But tell then, I’ve got to go

See you soon in Huancayo.

Little Girl from Huancayo

Do you really, really know?

Note: While visiting Huancayo in April of 2005, I noticed a little girl on the street playing; jumping from square to square. And she had a few kids around her, and so she was my inspiration for this poem. I even took a picture of her, and did a drawing. It is a fresh, fresh feeling to see young people enjoying the simply things of life. #665 5/15/2005; it’s a simply poem with a little beat, but a pleasing one for my soul.

in Spanish

Niña de Huancayo

Have you ever experienced infatuation with someone you know is not a good match for you? Or how about an interesting relationship that roots itself deep in your memory… Here’s my double take on someone who caught my eye years ago and invited me to play footsies in a work cafeteria. Although nothing ever involved from this infatuation, he has never left my thoughts.

Joining
Of
Hearts
Never

Mixing
Our
Tender
Illusions
Fantasy
Fires

Roses are red
Or are they pink
Since laying eyes on you
All I do is think

Of holding you close
And touching your face
The fun we could have
In a different place

Yet somehow I managed
To let you see
An image that scared you
That really isn’t me

So I guess I’ll just wait
Til the timing is right
Keep believing in fate
And dreaming at night

(c) 2005

LEO/LIBRA
Leo and Libra: a fire and air sign together. Naturally empathetic to each other, these two although differing in method usually have the same long-term goals. They share visions. They complement each other beautifully. Leo will, purely by his nature, tend to be bossy and domineering. Libra will endure this good-naturedly, to a certain point. If the Lion pushes the relationship too far, Libra will make a quick exit and later on will punish the Lion.

Phantom of the Rocks

[Huancayo, Peru]

Night falls deep

Upon the traveler!

Low, over the Andes

By Huancayo-;

They know a legend,

Not of this earth,

Where evil lurks

(Over Palla-Huarcuan!…)

"The Phantom of the Rocks";

Should you pass thru there,

At night-be aware:

Expect not to return!…

Note: There is a rock in the form of an Indian Maiden; this is considered the evil spirit of the area. #657 5/13/05

Lady from Lima

[Dona Ana-1668 AD]

Dona Ana-but twenty-nine

Years old- Ruled Lima, Peru, with

Diamonds and gold. Haunted with pride and

Nobility? She dressed in splendor

For all to see! And pardoned a friar

Who was quite thirsty!

#659 5/2005

Bell Ringer: de Copan

In the cathedral de Copan the Bell Ringer was a boy- and his only job

(to my knowledge was), was to the ring the bells? in the town-let of the cathedral.

It so happened that (one night

around dusk) , the lad, with mortal anguish, inspired madness-in the

delirium

of the moment: rang the bells like Holy Hell!!

Kamalakanta was born in Burdwan India in the late 18th Century. From an early age he expressed an interest in spirituality and later in life Kamalakanta received initiation into Tantric Yoga from a Tantric yogi named Kenaram Bhattacharya. His songs made him famous during his lifetime and because of his fame as a singer poet the Maharaja of Burdwan, Tej Chandra asked Kamalakanta to be his Guru. Kamalakanta became a great devotee of Kali and composed many impassioned and devotional love poems to the Mother.

It is said that the Divine Mother in her aspect of Mahakali wishes her sincere devotees to make the fastest progress. Kali is often depicted as the great destroyer of ignorance and hostile forces. The poetry of Kamalakanta displays this heroic attitude of imploring Kali to destroy limitations and bondage. The poetry of Kamalakanta also displays a profound faith in his all powerful Kali.

“The earth quakes under Your leaps and bounds.
You are frightful with that sword in Your hand .”

Whilst Kali is often depicted as a black and terrifying form, this however is just one aspect of hers as a destroyer of ignorance. Kamalakanta also alludes to the other aspect of Kali as he states in his poem - “Is my Mother Really Black?”