Thursday, September 14, 2006

The Messiah (in English and Spanish)

The Messiah


Advance notes: The Messiah original was published in the books, “On the Threshold of a Dream,” First Edition, 1988 (from the National Library of Poetry). The Messiah was also published in the book “Sirens” by the Dennis L. Siluk, 2004. And thus far has won two International awards (Editors’ Choice Award for 1988)) it was one of the 135-pome3s out of over 10,000 to be so honored.)) It graphic imagery must be felt, it is beyond description.

In addition to this poem being one of the author’s most favored, it has provoked the most controversy in the past. Written in November, of 1987, the controversy stared at once; some of the controversy was between Minnesota Christian Churches, but after reviewing it closer, and asking how the author got the descriptiveness within the poem, and his answer being “In a vision (1983),” the controversy stopped (right after the vision, the author had written down the panorama of the picture he kept in his mind). Thus the author simply tried—to the best ability—to describe the scene. The author also had stated at the time, “It was so bad I almost started vomiting and had to ask the Lord to stopped the scene, at which time He did.” #115 (11/1987)


(The poem: The Messiah)


Like pelts stretched from side-to side
On a wooden cross, undressed, alive—
The Messiah hung, like a wild beast:
Uncouth, uncrowned, no dignity.
De-boned—like fish—His body hung;
Lifeless, deformed: —in silent pain.
Dried blood upon His ransomed face,
Eyes decaying, hardly seen:
Pours hemorrhaging with a gloss of sweat—
Skin like mounds of inflamed tar
[like boils reflecting off dark shaded ice]
Deep distress around His soot-covered veins,
A mixture of Saliva, Dirt and shame;—
Ugly as sin, beyond recognition
[like open incisions of an autopsy].

Acquainted with grief, yes, oh Yes!
As the prophets foretold, long ago.
A new scene, we became redeemed!!



Spanish Version

(El Poema: El Mesías)



Como pieles estiradas de lado a—lado
Sobre una cruz de madera, desnudo, vivo—
El Mesías colgado, como una fiera:
Grosero, destronado, sin dignidad.
Deshuesado—como pescado—Su cuerpo colgado;
Sin vida, deforme: —en dolor silencioso.
Sangre seca sobre Su cara rescatada,
Ojos descompuestos, apenas vistos:
Vierten hemorragia con un lustre de sudor—

Piel como los montones de alquitrán inflamado
[como furúnculos relejando la sombra oscura del hielo]
Profunda angustia (dolor) alrededor de Sus venas cubiertas por hollín,
Una mezcla de Saliva, Suciedad y vergüenza; —
Feo como el pecado, más allá de reconocimiento
[como incisiones abiertas de una autopsia].


¡Enterado con pena, sí, oh Si!
Como los profetas pronosticaron, hace mucho.
¡¡Una nueva escena, nos hicimos redimidos!!

Tuesday, September 12, 2006

Satan, Forsaken [an eight part poem]

The Somber Sun I

What has thou seen O Sun,
Of love or of hate
I will not be surprised,
If thou close thy eyes
And find it, within thy sky filled heart
To wipe all forms of memory—
And hide unto the dark.

#1379


Prophecies of the Wind II

The winds, the winds, the winds
What tiding do you bellow in?
Bring forth your tears sigh again
So all earthlings will understand
The prophecies are in the winds:
The earth shall tremble, quake,
And fate will ultimately win!...

#1380


Oblivious Night III

I slept a short sleep: and woke unto the night
To far to see, my hand in front of me
Beneath the Moon's ghostly hallow light
Here the living world lost its voice
Lo! The dim, grim night struggles in
Trying to find its way, behind the grave,
Like a fish swimming into the deep—
I then went back into my sleep.

#1381


Summer's Heat IV

The Summer's heat
The air intensifies with life
Then seals the icy winds

You can hear the lifeless spirits
Amongst the fields of Summer's heat
Murmur, quietly...

Stirred with secrets!

#1382


Satan, Forsaken V

"All earth is now my throne—!
For I have lost my heaven—
And now I stand-alone.
Man's obedience
Has supported me
Unjudged I stand before he:
Yet God forsakes me
Forgotten in the wistful
Echoes of eternity..."

#1383


The Prophet VI

The prophet rides no more
Across the heavens and the stars
'Tis God's emptiness
He cast a spell upon us:
With our incredulous years!

#1384


The Poet VII

The poet marvels at his life
As if he found a magic brook!
And then by suicide
He takes his life,
Like lost echoes in the woods.

#1385


Power VIII

Power: Oppression
Limitless
Tyranny
Influence
Obedience—!
A tempest
Hard to keep
Under ones
Enormous feet.

#1386


[7-11-2006] Poems I thru IV, written at the "4d, Gelateria Italiana, Café," in Miraflores, Lima, Peru; poems V thru VII written at the "Favorite Café," in Miraflores, Lima Peru.

Article Source: www.articledigger.com

About The Author
Dennis Siluk is an International Poet and Author who lives in Peru and, the USA, in Minnesota, he has 33-books out, 1460 poems, 255-short stories,and some 900-articles. He is a world Traveler, and lives with his wife Rosa.

The Sighting of Mary(The Miracle at Sapallanga))1820s))In English and Spanish

Written by:
Dennis L. Siluk



(In English and Spanish)

The Sighting of Mary
(The Miracle at Sapallanga))1820s))




I


In silence and
forevermore, I stood
upon a mountain top
where many stood before,
and blue gold and
yellow gold were the
clouds upon the sky…
startling it was, as a
mist, enfolded, descended
the mountain top
like a lake where
marble angels stood,
held like ruby-stones
in Heaven’s hand.

And there I beheld her
as she stood in her grace,
stars upon her lovely face,
and whence she come
there was no trace.


II


Holy, holy was the
young Seraph´s
words,
cast in love by Christ.
Fair, fair was she as
Venus of the sky,
starlight in her eyes;
weak with the sight
I leaned upon a rock
listened to my soul,
music rendered (somewhere)
from the unknown….

It was as if she stood
in a silent shrine—
and she sent forth her gaze
—which descended
throughout the mountain top;
then she sent forth
her soul…
to the little town
called Sapallanga—
below Heaven’s silver breasts
(and so—, now the
legend is told…).







Notes: #1459 (9/12/2006) On top of the mountain called, St. Christopher, near the town-let called Sapallanga, perhaps ten miles from Huancayo, Peru, in the Mantaro Valley, twenty-children in the early 1820s saw a vision of the Virgin Mary, the Mother of Christ; thus, since—once a year a festival is held in her honor and for that special happening.

The Chutos parade down the streets of this little village, with the Chonguinadas, as they hack, slice, and slash their whips as the protectors of these dancers, as the festival goes on for approximately three days.

Poem: dedicated to the Mayor of Sapallanga, Luis Alberto Perez Peralta, who was kind enough to welcome and escort me and my wife around the city and inform me of the legend, and point out the mountain and its pilgrims that hike up to the top to the little church to give homage to the event (and special thanks to Lily Unchupaico, for her tour of the fest).


















Spanish Version
Translated by Rosa Peñaloza de Siluk

La Aparición de María
(El Milagro de Sapallanga))1820s)




I


En silencio y
por siempre jamás, estuve
sobre una cima de montaña
donde muchos estuvieron antes,
y oro azul y
oro amarillo eran las
nubes sobre el cielo…
asombroso era, mientras una
niebla, envuelta, bajó
la cima de la montaña
como un lago donde
ángeles de mármol estuvieron de pie,
sostenidos como piedras de rubíes
en la mano del Cielo.

Y allí la contemplé
mientras ella estuvo en su gracia,
estrellas sobre su cara encantadora,
y de dónde ella viene
no había ningún rastro.



II


Santo, santo era las
palabras del Serafín joven,
moldeado en amor por Cristo.
Muy bonita, muy bonita era ella como
Venus del cielo,
luz de las estrellas en sus ojos;
débil por la visión
me incliné sobre una roca
escuché a mi alma,
música dada (en algún sitio)
del desconocido…

Era como si ella estuvo de pie
en un santuario silencioso—
y ella envió en adelante su mirada fija
—que descendió
en todas partes de la cima de montaña;
entonces ella envió en adelante
su alma…
a la pequeña ciudad
llamada Sapallanga—
bajo de los pechos de plata del Cielo
(y entonces—, ahora la
leyenda es contada…).





Apuntes: # 1459 (12/Septiembre/2006) Sobre la cima de la montaña llamada San Cristóbal, cerca de la ciudad pequeña llamada Sapallanga, quizás a diez millas de Huancayo, Perú, en el Valle del Mantaro, veinte niños a principios de los años 1820 vieron una visión de la Virgen María, la Madre de Cristo; así, una vez al año un festival es llevado a cabo en su honor y por aquel acontecimiento especial.

El desfile de los “Chutos” abajo de las calles de este pequeño pueblo, con las Chonguinadas, mientras ellos tiran sus azotes como los protectores de estos bailarines, mientras el festival continúa durante aproximadamente tres días.

Poema: dedicado al Alcalde de Sapallanga, Luis Alberto Pérez Peralta, quien fue bastante amable en darnos la bienvenida y escoltarnos a mi esposa y a mí alrededor de la ciudad e informarme de la leyenda, y enseñarnos la montaña y sus peregrinos que van de excursión hasta la pequeña iglesia que está en la cima para dar su homenaje (y gracias especiales al Lily Unchupaico, por mostrarnos el festival).