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June 15, 2005 1. Night in Jamaica [Peruvianism: 1810] It was a rainy night they say When don Simon Bolivar Slept in the arms of beautiful —Luisa Crober (of Jamaica); thus an Assassin missed his mark When he stabbed Major Amestoy Sleeping in the dark In Bolivar’s hammock!... 2. Sacred Something Love for love curse for curse what you plant (in the furrow): is what you get tomorrow. 3. Epitaph in El Dorado Ride high, ride high The shade replied Over the mountains To the valley There upon a cliff You’ll see A placed called El Dorado His madden brain Was sick with pain Beholding to the shadow But he found the gold And then was told You’ll never leave The valley… And so it was That he grew old Sitting there in the Valley Counting gold Eating toads… And I’m sick of this poem But it needs an end So my friend, I must say This epitaph was is his story. 4. Epitaph of a Shoeshine Boy [A Macabre poem] I cannot sleep, I cannot sleep In moon struck ebony, My ghostly hands upon my knees— The dead are dead you see. The earth is warm under my feet; As seasons come and go. I am, am neither wise nor bold, But cold, am I you see. I cannot sleep, I cannot sleep I look upon a bed I must still love the living best: Who hate the ghostly dead? Whereas, I walk alone again Wandering, aimlessly I was a shoeshine boy, you know But who remembers me (?) Note: When I was a boy of 11 to 13, I used to go from bar to bar in St. Paul, Minnesota and shoeshine (l958-61). I made money that way, until I was 14-years old, at which time I worked for what is now the “Fitzgerald Theater”; where Garrison Keillor (whom I met twice) has his show, “A Prairie Home companion.” 5. Lyric Rain [A Minnesota Poem] Ah! Last night it was a night A night of lyric rain The trees were swaying, swaying— Every which-way… I so love the wild rain Un-refrained Its cool breezes, sharp fangs, Fangs, and empty-eyed; Replenishing earths strains Washing away all the grime— And secretly, nurturing This rhyme… . Note: It rained out last night (a storm), in St. Paul, Minnesota, USA; 3:30 AM. My mother used to be frightened by such storms, but I cherished them it seems; odd are we not, so different in what we value. ------------ About the author: Mr. Siluk is a world traveler, a lover of the mysteries around the world, and has visit many World Heritage Sites, his most recent being Easter Island, the Galapagos and Mesa Verde. His books can be seen on/at Barns and Noble.com, Amazon.com, Wal-Mart, Abe.com Alibis, Boarders and several other sites and book stores. Many of his books can be purchased through the English Bookdealers. He spends his time between Lima, Peru and St. Paul, Minnesota, and has just finished working on two new books: "The Macabre Poems,” and “Perhaps it’s Love,” and continues to work on "Curse of the Abyss Worm,” a suspenseful mystery, and “Cold Kindness,” a tragic love affair. Visit http://dennissiluk.tripod.com Email: dlsiluk@msn.com Tell a friend about this site! ------------ All articles are EXCLUSIVE to Useless-Knowledge.com and are not allowed to be posted on other websites. ARTICLE THIEVES WILL BE PROSECUTED! |
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