Waiting for the Tide (Parts I & II/A Dramatic Epic Poem)
http://dennissiluk.tripod.com
Poeta Laureado De San Jerónimo de Tunan, Perú
Awarded the Grand Cross of the City
Awarded the National Prize of Peru, "Antena Regional": The best of 2006 for promoting culture
Los Andes University (Peru): Recognition given to Dennis Siluk for his poetic and cultural contribution
Waiting for the Tide
Part I
The Tide
A day the full-sun was like a spinning-top,
Yes, like a young boy’s first full-dollar
Hidden in his pocket deep from the eyes of many,
Young Ferdinand drove his Ford along the sea-beach;
When he stopped, prompt; then he trembled, drove
The face of the little Ford’s wheels deep
They felt the mud; the car with four slim tires
On a pavement of sand pivoted like an elephant,
Jerked him from the sinking soil, wet down, wedged, skid;
Then, the sharp agitation finished, thickening him
Slid with his young lady rider over the car’s hood,
Shot from utter torment and a ruined automobile
His body and hers out now waiting for the tide.
The day you know time-honored with no show of passion for the little mishap; grave
Joana
Moved toward the undressed mountains, the day moved to twilight, the fast pulse of
the sea behind
Echo, the slow wind came in across the icy stones of the mountain; the dead Ford
wedged in tightly wearily on shore
He felt for the girl; Ferdinand’s restful eyes came back from the wakening, and
curiously knew
The mountain’s cold touch, now sucked into the walls of bodies, its timeless ruin.
Inside him, pain and dizziness, overwhelming
Bloated, and a hopeless wish to heave, and likewise his girlfriend, again
The cold hands of the mountain passed, likened to icy fingers, passed and crept over them, lay on each side of them, he slept sideways
She felt the weight of the mountain and waited an hour he lay still.
Then came a surge of whistling noises
The tide came in from the sea, to the edge of the mountain,
their bodies limp and cold
They crawled in further, like worms, between the groves of the two mountains, as
if they had rubber for bones, she lifted up his face
Their they lay, as if in a freezing chamber, with the tide in
She woke him from his callous sleep; he rose and made a face, the moon lit
like a lamp, cold like the sea, night equal to the days sun, in reverse,
Night and day were touching each other, ‘twilight’s in-between,´ (she thought): she
remained quiet, for it seemed a nightmare
For half the night long, she became a child’s mind and frequently sleepless, with the
other moaning
Within the gorge, the tide remained out, yet at its knees.
To Ferdinand it seemed that she was making love to him along the shore
With her, who said “Here we are, pushed into this mountain gorge, blood on your forehead, and you, you daydreaming of me on shore, dearest vainly…for here I am bad girl and all…come out of your dream and with your hooves of passion, dreadful passion, dreaming .” And he awoke completely, again.
Intense his eyes were, now upon hers
When the waves stopped, it got quieter, she slept lightly, and he all night through,
not a slump, or wink of an eye opened
Joana from her mountain view, likened to a window view, saw the cloudy light of the
sun rising deep in the East, mist overhanging
The lower part of the gorge had overflowed last night, but the waters were receding.
#1754 3-20-2007
Part II
In the Valley
Ferdinand rode his Model T Ford through the city, up into the mountains, to the
valley pastures noisily southeast catching the wind from the hills
Many times he wanted Joana to show him some new beauty within the
valley, the river or perhaps the old warrior sites
Quickly they rode through the bleak cobblestone passages, elbows touching, winds whistling, black shaded areas following as if a shadow was caught on the back of
the car
(areas to the side of the lower hills, smothered with undergrowth)
There was a dotted beauty to the black, gray and white substances
mixed into the layers of rock, gleaming from the rays of the sun
And then they found her father’s cottage, in a quiet valley among the
mountains, the winds still echoing as they seeped through the passages,
Now gazing quietly, he turned to Joana; she returned his look, both
looking at the cottage and the valley mountains (each other)
Saw the tips of the immense mountains possessing the entire valley,
enveloping it, as a mother guarding her child
They could see the barn-roof and red shingle-stone house roof
Like a ship anchored off shore; he thought now of Joana.
Towards twilight he and she drove to the house; Manual
Was leaving it and young Ferdinand said, “Listen, Joana,
We’ve had nice times together and drove all day.
I’m tired; I don’t wish to see any of our friends this weekend.
Tell them to stay away.” “Of course,” said the other
“as you wish, but I shall only tell it to your friends,
do you think my mind is not well yet, think again?”
Ferdinand drove down the embankment, to the cottage
She, wondering why his face was quivering
A jerk, contracting almost, with red anger; Joana
Wondered why he got out of the car and went
Directly into the cottage without a word spoken
Straight faced and squinting eyes
Could it be: jealousy or passiveness in him; her father
Met her at the door, she told him the news of their
Distressful night caught between the tides.
Assured him, Ferdinand was faithful, did not
Abandon her, nor take advantage of her—
“There is a fest at ‘Pablo’s Inn,’ this evening,
You’ll enjoy it, you and Ferdinand,” he said
thinking she’d go to it
“Go down the valley, Joana, drive the car slow,
have a good time,” he added.
“But he doesn’t want to go this evening, or any evening,
I believe he wants me all to himself!”
“Better you go to the fest down in the valley, lest you,
you put your young life in a box
“The devil’s in the box, Joana, the devil,” then her
Father lit the oil lamp, on the table, “just an
old man’s words, come winter you will be in the
house, save there is no other place to be.
Make your life pleasant, if you squabble now, how
will it be when you are old?” The old man
Smiling at her, “Let him daydream, go live!”
#1755 3/20/2007
Poeta Laureado De San Jerónimo de Tunan, Perú
Awarded the Grand Cross of the City
Awarded the National Prize of Peru, "Antena Regional": The best of 2006 for promoting culture
Los Andes University (Peru): Recognition given to Dennis Siluk for his poetic and cultural contribution
Waiting for the Tide
Part I
The Tide
A day the full-sun was like a spinning-top,
Yes, like a young boy’s first full-dollar
Hidden in his pocket deep from the eyes of many,
Young Ferdinand drove his Ford along the sea-beach;
When he stopped, prompt; then he trembled, drove
The face of the little Ford’s wheels deep
They felt the mud; the car with four slim tires
On a pavement of sand pivoted like an elephant,
Jerked him from the sinking soil, wet down, wedged, skid;
Then, the sharp agitation finished, thickening him
Slid with his young lady rider over the car’s hood,
Shot from utter torment and a ruined automobile
His body and hers out now waiting for the tide.
The day you know time-honored with no show of passion for the little mishap; grave
Joana
Moved toward the undressed mountains, the day moved to twilight, the fast pulse of
the sea behind
Echo, the slow wind came in across the icy stones of the mountain; the dead Ford
wedged in tightly wearily on shore
He felt for the girl; Ferdinand’s restful eyes came back from the wakening, and
curiously knew
The mountain’s cold touch, now sucked into the walls of bodies, its timeless ruin.
Inside him, pain and dizziness, overwhelming
Bloated, and a hopeless wish to heave, and likewise his girlfriend, again
The cold hands of the mountain passed, likened to icy fingers, passed and crept over them, lay on each side of them, he slept sideways
She felt the weight of the mountain and waited an hour he lay still.
Then came a surge of whistling noises
The tide came in from the sea, to the edge of the mountain,
their bodies limp and cold
They crawled in further, like worms, between the groves of the two mountains, as
if they had rubber for bones, she lifted up his face
Their they lay, as if in a freezing chamber, with the tide in
She woke him from his callous sleep; he rose and made a face, the moon lit
like a lamp, cold like the sea, night equal to the days sun, in reverse,
Night and day were touching each other, ‘twilight’s in-between,´ (she thought): she
remained quiet, for it seemed a nightmare
For half the night long, she became a child’s mind and frequently sleepless, with the
other moaning
Within the gorge, the tide remained out, yet at its knees.
To Ferdinand it seemed that she was making love to him along the shore
With her, who said “Here we are, pushed into this mountain gorge, blood on your forehead, and you, you daydreaming of me on shore, dearest vainly…for here I am bad girl and all…come out of your dream and with your hooves of passion, dreadful passion, dreaming .” And he awoke completely, again.
Intense his eyes were, now upon hers
When the waves stopped, it got quieter, she slept lightly, and he all night through,
not a slump, or wink of an eye opened
Joana from her mountain view, likened to a window view, saw the cloudy light of the
sun rising deep in the East, mist overhanging
The lower part of the gorge had overflowed last night, but the waters were receding.
#1754 3-20-2007
Part II
In the Valley
Ferdinand rode his Model T Ford through the city, up into the mountains, to the
valley pastures noisily southeast catching the wind from the hills
Many times he wanted Joana to show him some new beauty within the
valley, the river or perhaps the old warrior sites
Quickly they rode through the bleak cobblestone passages, elbows touching, winds whistling, black shaded areas following as if a shadow was caught on the back of
the car
(areas to the side of the lower hills, smothered with undergrowth)
There was a dotted beauty to the black, gray and white substances
mixed into the layers of rock, gleaming from the rays of the sun
And then they found her father’s cottage, in a quiet valley among the
mountains, the winds still echoing as they seeped through the passages,
Now gazing quietly, he turned to Joana; she returned his look, both
looking at the cottage and the valley mountains (each other)
Saw the tips of the immense mountains possessing the entire valley,
enveloping it, as a mother guarding her child
They could see the barn-roof and red shingle-stone house roof
Like a ship anchored off shore; he thought now of Joana.
Towards twilight he and she drove to the house; Manual
Was leaving it and young Ferdinand said, “Listen, Joana,
We’ve had nice times together and drove all day.
I’m tired; I don’t wish to see any of our friends this weekend.
Tell them to stay away.” “Of course,” said the other
“as you wish, but I shall only tell it to your friends,
do you think my mind is not well yet, think again?”
Ferdinand drove down the embankment, to the cottage
She, wondering why his face was quivering
A jerk, contracting almost, with red anger; Joana
Wondered why he got out of the car and went
Directly into the cottage without a word spoken
Straight faced and squinting eyes
Could it be: jealousy or passiveness in him; her father
Met her at the door, she told him the news of their
Distressful night caught between the tides.
Assured him, Ferdinand was faithful, did not
Abandon her, nor take advantage of her—
“There is a fest at ‘Pablo’s Inn,’ this evening,
You’ll enjoy it, you and Ferdinand,” he said
thinking she’d go to it
“Go down the valley, Joana, drive the car slow,
have a good time,” he added.
“But he doesn’t want to go this evening, or any evening,
I believe he wants me all to himself!”
“Better you go to the fest down in the valley, lest you,
you put your young life in a box
“The devil’s in the box, Joana, the devil,” then her
Father lit the oil lamp, on the table, “just an
old man’s words, come winter you will be in the
house, save there is no other place to be.
Make your life pleasant, if you squabble now, how
will it be when you are old?” The old man
Smiling at her, “Let him daydream, go live!”
#1755 3/20/2007
posted by Dennis and Rosa Siluk at 4:59 PM
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