November's Writings [by: D.L. Siluk] Part 4. Poems from Afar Part II

November’s Writings, 2006
[by: D. L. Siluk]
Part #4



Poems from Afar
Part II

Borobudur

I have touched the summit of Borobudur
And based in its splendor
Found peace and beauty
Wisdom and light—
There looking down was earth
And looking up heaven
And in-between man and nothingness
What God created it all from?

9/19/99 Written after seeing the 9th Century Buddhist Shrine in Java, it makes you think. Out of all the places I’ve been, Borobudur is one of the few that has given me Pease as I’ve walked its ground.



The Sphinx of Egypt

I touched each one of its paws
Felt along the sides of its inner parts
Its legs
Touched the stone plaque in the center
Then with a glow of the moon
Looking up upon its ancient face
As if—it had wings upon its ears
It seemed indifferent to me
Almost arrogant
I knelt and thanked my God
For this opportunity
I knew then
These stones as old as they maybe
Were haunted with the invisible past
They didn’t breath, I said,
And that was when I saw its arrogance—
They begged for breath
As I climbed its breast…



Written while in Cairo, 12/2/98; only a few people are allowed to go to the Sphinx, after Midnight, if you have $1400-dollars to pay off the guards (and you know the right people), and then you might be allowed to do what I did. The sphinx I do believe is close to 13,500 years old. There is a stela in the middle of the Sphinx, between its legs, King Thuthmosis IV recorded on it, that he fell to sleep in the shadow of the Sphinx. It told him to remove the sand that covered it, and he world be rewarded. He then became King of Egypt. The Greeks believe that the Great Sphinx was Evil, and perhaps it is, it does have a haunting to it. It is said that Oedipus answered its riddle and killed himself.


The Stones
(At Stonehenge)


I stood in front of its three-monumental windows
[Tons of stone] its faces got into the moment
(They have faces you know).
The dark clouds above:
Likened to a canopy, a mystic crown:
It all got into my bones…
Chilled them.
I felt as if I was in the halls of Westminster Abbey,
I could see the countenance of their faces—
On these aged old stones…that chilled my bones.
They even whispered to my soul: with wisdom
And arrogance, “I will you…” they started to say,
And I quickly left, they tried to pull me back…!


Note: written 3/24/99 [3:30pm] after visiting the site, wrote the poem out here hours later in Bath, England.

November’s Writings, 2006 [by: D. L. Siluk] Part 2. "Poems from Afar"

Poems from Afar

Poems out of Istanbul, Cairo, Tanger,
North Korea, & America



Song for Cairo

They swallow their vices like vultures,
Akin to vultures, I say
(I seen it all in 1998):
All smiles, like dead camels,
At the dusty market
Outside of Cairo…!

Dedicated to those guarding the
Mohammad Ali Mosque, in Cairo; #1541 10/27/2006


Song in Tanger

Oh, I know William Burroughs
And his mate, Ginsberg, too,
Met in Tanger, many years ago
(Here lies a sea of fools);
Glad I went in ’92.


Dedicated to the gay community, and W.B, and his mate.
#1542, 10/28/2006

Hail Pyongyang

(Sometimes you get what you ask for):

Doom and desire,
Pentacles unseen
Dare the dire—
America!..

Dedicated to North Korea, and their king,
Kim Jong II and his tender ego #1543



Epitaph for a US Presidency
[Dedicated to: G.W. Bush]

Out of the attic comes the fool
No abysmal smell, just suffering from dismal;
Erratic he became, seeker of dreams;
Pluck the poor fellow
Out of the White House.


Note: It is sad at best, to see the downfall of what could have been the greatest
Presidency of the 21st century drop down such a deep abyss. #1544 10/29/2006




Song of Istanbul

I saw a belly dancer shake her breasts,
Holding tight onto the hilltop—
And a friend from New Zealand
Had her sit upon my lap, back
In 1996: I wasn’t sure what was
His quest? The Turkish woman
Had beautiful saber teeth, and all
The rest—and I just prayed the sultan
Wouldn’t come in…!

Dedicated to: the Belly Dancers in Turkey #1540 10/28/2006

November's Writings [by: D.L. Siluk] Part 1. Mixing Poetry with Prose

November’s Writings, 2006
[by: D. L. Siluk]
Part 1.


Mixing Poetry with Prose


In writing modern, or contemporary verse it is easy for anyone to make fun of, or point out what they feel is obscure to their eyes in poetry, as it can be in any writing I suppose, but verse seems to get its share of pro and con, in more than sufficiently amounts, normally attacked, mostly by those not all that interested in verse in the first place. I am not about to turn this writing into some kind of account, but I do want to say a few words on this issue. Some modern poetry is what I call defeatist, grant you, and perhaps too fantastic, and too abstract, or too unreal or perhaps too eccentric—beyond the psychological reality of mans mind. I try not to go in that direction, but I do like plays and prose mixed with poetry, a good narrative in poetry is real life at its highest expressions. And produce good ideas in verse. This freedom I use, and others have, is not new, it was used by Homer, and even the poem of Gilgamish, have threads of this mixture; Shakespeare does it quite well also.
Yes, it is obvious that poetry and prose are different. Prose can flow actually better, free from poetic hang-ups; Poetry on the other hand seems to have more solid points to it, and is slower to read usually, and write of course. In prose you can bring up issues, or matters in the moment, in poetry, you are working on moving the individual, emotionally, more so than in thinking. Nowadays, people have a hard time understanding modern poetry, in comparison to thousands of years ago. Perhaps we lost the plot, theme and insight into much of the story in poetry, and need to make adjustments, and so in prose mixed with poetry we can do that, as long as we remember the poetic value resides in the solid elements it brings.

Commentary on Poetry and Prose: 10/28/2006