Friday, February 03, 2012

Ceremony Doctor Honoris Causa for Dr. Dennis L. Siluk by the UNCP, Part ...

Ode to the Perils of Yorkshire Coast (1066 A.D.)








Three hundred sails
(That of a Norwegian fleet)
Appeared off the Yorkshire Coast (1066 A.D.)
Ravaged the inland some…

The English King (Harold)
Hearing of this—headed north
To face the invasion: the Wind
On his sails, this served him well!

Thus, the English King
Arrived in York in time to prevent a
Pervading disaster!

The battle was fierce—Viking
And Englishmen…hewed at each other
Over the war bloodied ground

—until,
The Norse Army was annihilated

(Which no Anglo-Saxon chronicle can deny
Or defend?...)

Exterminated them like infected mice;
As the few who escaped, with their lives
Fled on only twenty-four ships!

Note: 3258 (11-9-2011)


Labels: , , , ,

The World Was Blackened

We were nothing but little bugs
on the earth—back then,
thinking we were much, much more
—when it all ended…
when the world was blackened
and was drained of sound and color
Fading into multiple grays and blacks!

Then suddenly, there was a
patter and the thud of thunder
that rambled, and echoed
throughout the atmosphere,
covering the planet like a shroud—
where once were many passing footsteps!

Then darkness thickened again
layers upon layers,
filled the planet like a rising tide?...
It seeped from the earth
fell from the sky
It was the changing of the planet! ~

Eyes came out of dimness.
Hunger followed the eyes.
From far and near, came
pulsating sounds…vibrations
on the ground…

We were all vacant, vagrants
Nothing was understand by
anybody or anything…
on earth’s surface—
under it, above it: it was all strange
so very strange, as if we never was!

Them that lived were ably to
smell and see, mutter.
Everyone had forgotten what was
where we all had came from…
Our minds vacant like vagrants
we had lost our language…
our right to be

((Animals, insects, nature, humanoids,
odd shaped beings, strange
everything strange, nothing…nothing
was the same)(even the oxygen,
atoms, blood, bacteria—all changed)).

I was one of the few that remained
the same, could remember,
how it used to be.
Perhaps it was better now, better
not knowing a thing!

Labels: , , ,

Ode to the: Race of the Old Yonah

(April, 1862—The Civil War)

James J. Andrews, finessed his way
through tight places, avoiding clashes
with the south (a Union Spy)
where a flinch of an eyelash
meant death—!

His quest, had now been to take the Engine
General, and its three boxcars
at the depot called – ‘Big Shanty’ at
Marietta, Georgia—race onto
Bridgeport, Alabama, with thirty
armed soldiers,

—thus, the race began, heading westward;
Conductor William A. Fuller in pursuit!

The Yankees only eleven minutes ahead!
Heaving and pulling iron rails loose
until they snapped—to slow old Yonah down,
Fuller still behind…

One mistake Andrews had made along the way,
was not to destroy the old engine Yonah,
thinking, it had its day…
which would seal his fate, write his epitaph
(for that was the engine Fuller used to
start his race…)!

Consequently, capturing Andrews along the way
and most of his squad;
hanging Andrews
eleven days before his wedding,
leaving his bones in Dixie!


Note: Those who have not been in war, will never understand the simplest of friction, it can produce with the simplest of things, distortion in the mind (miscalculations); you see the mind doesn’t always function the exact way you’d expect it to. Especially when making moment to moment decisions as in the: “…Race of the Old Yonah” (12/21/2011)

#3360 (12-20-2011)

Labels: , ,

Dead End (In English and Spanish)


English Version



Dead End

To keep his children, He lost his Dignity!
To keep his dignity, he lost his children!
What he didn’t do, is perhaps, what he should have done!
Now, it’s way too late!

#3365 (12/31/2011)




Versión en Español


Callejón sin Salida

¡Él perdió su dignidad, por mantener a sus hijos!
¡Por mantener su dignidad, él perdió a sus hijos!
Lo que él no hizo, es talvez, lo que él debió haber hecho.
¡Ahora es demasiado tarde!

#3365 (12/31/2011)

Secret Writing

aabaa ababa abbab aabbb abaaa ababb

aaaaab babba
aabbb abaaa baaab
babaa abaaa ababa ababa

Labels:

Thursday, February 02, 2012

The Ancient Huacrapuquio Tiger (English and Spanish))







Versión en Inglés

Legend of:
The Ancient Huacrapuquio Tiger


I wonder
If he was afraid of dying—found
Deep in a stone crevice (bones complete)
In what one day would become the
Village of Huacrapuquio—
But now,
All day long, I have been walking among
Their dirt and stone streets,
Trying to keep still, silently
Listening,
To old residue—echoes that linger in
The shifting dust and sand—patiently I am
Gathering, the slow, the empty
Echoes of the past…

And of the secret shelter where this
Ancient tiger fell to his death
10, 000 BC…
Fell to his earthly grave, until the day
The city dug up the old dirt road, to
Put in plumbing.

His frame tells me his short, but
Lively life’s story—!
He was young, strong, lean, but careless—
He would leap at his prey, with those
Strong short hind legs; and with his
Long front arms—limbs that had
Paws like small boulders—and
Talons, sharp as giant thorns—
He would maul his prey; then with his
Sabre-teeth, he would put them to sleep!

#3105 (10-1-2011) While visiting the village of Huacrapuquio, in Huancayo, Region Junin, in 2007, about eleven thousand feet up in the Andes of Peru, the Mayor of the village showed me the bones, and location where the ancient tiger was found, considered among one of the few, if not only complete set of bones in the world, of such a tiger, and thus, the structure of the tiger, was amazingly different than expected by experts on this subject, and thereafter I drew a picture of the tiger from its remains.


Versión en Español

Leyenda del:
Milenario Tigre de Huacrapuquio


Me pregunto
Si él tuvo miedo de morir,
Fue encontrado
—en la profundidad de una grieta de piedra
(sus huesos completos) —
En lo que un día sería
El Pueblo de Huacrapuquio.
Pero ahora,
He estado caminando todo el día
Entre sus calles de tierra y piedras,
Tratando de mantenerme tranquilo,
Escuchando silenciosamente,
A los antiguos restos
—ecos que persisten detrás del polvo y arena cambiantes—
Pacientemente estoy recolectando, los lentos,
Los silenciosos ecos del pasado…
Y del secreto refugio donde este
Milenario tigre cayó a su muerte
10,000 antes de Cristo…

Cayó a su tumba terrenal, hasta el día
En que el gobierno cavó en el viejo camino de tierra,
Para poner tubos de desagüe.

Su cuerpo me dice: de su corta,
¡Pero enérgica historia de vida!
—Él era joven, fuerte, delgado, pero descuidado—
Él se lanzaría a su presa,
Con esas fuertes patas cortas traseras;
Y con sus largas patas delanteras
—miembros que tenían patas como rocas pequeñas,
y garras afiladas como espinas gigantes—
Él agarraría a su presa, luego con sus
Dientes de sable, ¡él los mataría!

#3105 (1-Octubre-2011) Mientras visitaba el pueblo de Huacrapuquio, en Huancayo, en la Región Junín, a más de 3,200 m.s.n.m. en Los Andes de Perú, en el año 2007, el Alcalde del pueblo me mostró los huesos y el lugar donde este milenario tigre fue encontrado. Considerado entre uno de los pocos tigres dientes de sable en el mundo encontrado casi con la totalidad de sus huesos. Así, la estructura del tigre, era remarcablemente diferente a lo que los expertos en este tema esperaban. Después de verlo hice un dibujo del tigre (de sus restos).

Labels: , , ,

Red Ants in Satipo (English and Spanish)

Versión en Inglés

Red Ants in Satipo
(Central Jungle of Peru)


I push; rise slightly, between the thick jungle foliage—
I do not want to alarm the large red ants
who are walking single file back and forth on the plant’s branch
(in the Satipo Jungle)—carrying small to large loads
of petals.

I want to pick a piece of fruit off the branch—I try and a few
leap onto me—racing up my fingers, and beyond…they have
sharp teeth—!

Then Rosa (my wife)—standing nearby—pulls me back,
watching the red ants thrive … she cries: “Let it go!”
I let the fruit branch go, step back—she’s relieved—so am I.


No: 3111 (10-5-2011); dedicated to the people of Satipo, its Mayor Cmdte, (R) Cesar Augusto
Merea Tello, and David Peñaloza Tapia.



Versión en Español

Hormigas Rojas en Satipo
Selva Central de Perú)


Empujo, me alzo ligeramente entre el follaje espeso de la selva
—no quiero perturbar a las grandes hormigas rojas
que están caminando en fila de uno yendo y viniendo
por las ramas de las plantas (en la Selva de Satipo)
llevando pequeñas y grandes cargas de pétalos—.

Quiero recoger una fruta de la rama
—lo intento pero unas cuantas saltan sobre mi
corriendo arriba de mis dedos, y más allá;
¡ellas tienen dientes afilados!—

Entonces Rosa (mi esposa) —parada cerca—me jala,
viendo aumentar a las hormigas rojas …ella grita: “¡suéltalo!”
Dejé la rama de fruta, retrocedí—ella está calmada—
y yo también.


No: 3111 (5-Octubre-2011): Dedicado a la población de Satipo y a su Alcalde
Cmdte. (R) César Augusto Merea Tello y a David Peñaloza Tapia.

Labels: , ,

The Dying Puya de Raimondi (English and Spanish)








The Dying
Puya de Raimondi



Today I stood by the largest
Flower in the world
Thirty-six feet tall (if not more)
One-hundred years old
It was dying—
Shedding its six-million seeds
Flying in the wind every-which-way
Especially below its knees…!
I witnessed its progeny
But three months old (so the Mayor told me)
A tiny, tiny thing—
I caressed its thorny limbs
Then when I looked up to see its height
I knew that it knew,
It was equal to the Condor in flight!

Version en Español

La Moribunda
Puya de Raimondi


¡Hoy estuve cerca a la flor
Más grande del mundo
Once metros de altura (talvez más)
Cien años de edad,
Estaba agonizando,
Derramando seis millones de semillas
Que volaban con el viento en todas direcciones
Especialmente debajo de ésta…!

—presencié su progenie
de sólo tres meses de edad
(eso me dijo el Alcalde)
una diminuta, una cosa muy pequeñita—

Acaricie sus ramas espinosas
Luego miré arriba para ver su gran tamaño
Yo sabía que ésta sabía,
Que era igual a un Cóndor volando!

#3367 (3/Enero/2012) 2nd poema de este año. Dedicado al Alcalde de Canchayllo,
Econ. Pedro Pablo Arias y al Sr. Antonio Ayala
(En la foto de la Versión en Inglés, el Poeta está parado al costado de la planta,
mirando a su gran tamaño)

The Puya de Raimondi (English and Spanish)




The Mayor of Canchayllo (Pedro Pablo Arias), and Dr. Siluk, by a young
Puya de Raimondi (10-years old, they grow to be 100-years old) 1/2012


Poemas de la Región Andina de Perú
Poems out of the Andean Region of Peru

Versión en Inglés

The Puya de Raimondi
(Of Canchayllo, Jauja, Peru)





The Puya de Raimondi—is
a rare and giant flower indeed!
twenty-four to thirty-six feet tall,
grows only in Peru and Bolivia—

Lives to be one hundred years old,
then dies—gives birth to death;
in that, —out of six-million seeds
it will produce but one, that will
survive to bear fruit for another.
And only turn out one flower,
at the ripe old age of a hundred
then pass on…

This rare and giant flower, lives
10,000 feet above sea level; it has a
bitter life indeed, but at full growth
it is tall and beautiful—and I believe,
selected by God, as one of the chosen.

No: 3104 (October 1, 2011) Note: the Puya de Raimondi of Canchayllo, Jauja, Peru, high up in the Andes, is a most wondrous sight to see…a classic, that is: one of a kind. Canchayllo is a district of Jauja, Region of Junin, Peru, with about 1800 inhabitants. The flowers grow at a height of 13,000 feet, on top of a mountain overlooking the township, where you will find a forest of them, along with wild life, camping, etc., I along with our team of five others went 12,500 feet, to discover one of the oldest of the flowers, just shedding its seeds, giving birth to its offspring, as you can read in “The Dying Puya de Raimondi.” Dedicated to Antonio Ayala Egoavil and the Mayor of Canchayllo, Econ. Pedro Pablo Arias Atanacio. Dlsiluk



Versión en Español

La Puya de Raimondi
(de Canchayllo, Jauja, Perú)

La Puya de Raimondi es una rara
y gigante flor ¡de verdad!
de ocho a doce metros de altura,
—crece sólo en Perú y Bolivia—

Vive hasta los cien años de edad,
luego muere—dando vida a la muerte;
es decir, de seis millones de semillas
sólo una crecerá, la que sobrevivirá
para dar frutos para otro.
Y sólo se volverá una flor,
a la edad madura de cien años
luego morirá…

Esta rara y gigante flor, vive
a más 3,300 metros sobre el nivel del mar;
tiene una vida amarga ¡de verdad!
pero alcanzando su madurez
es alta y hermosa—y yo creo,
seleccionada por Dios, como una de las elegidas.


No: 3104 (1 Octubre 2011) Nota: La Puya de Raimondi de Canchayllo es una planta muy asombrosa para ver, y única en su clase. Canchayllo está en la Provincia de Jauja, Región Junín, en los Andes de Perú, tiene una población aproximada de 1800 habitantes. Esta planta crece a más de 3300 metros sobre el nivel del mar, y en Canchayllo crece encima de una montaña mirando hacia el pueblo, donde hay un Bosque de Puyas de Raimondi, junto con vida silvestre donde se puede acampar. Nuestro equipo de cinco personas, llegó hasta los 3,800 m.s.n.m. para encontrar una de las plantas más antiguas, justo diseminando sus semillas, dando nacimiento a sus rebrotes, como lo puedes leer en “La Moribunda Puya de Raimondi”. Dedicado al Sr. Antonio Ayala Egoavil y al señor Alcalde de Canchayllo, Econ. Pedro Pablo Arias Atanacio. Dlsiluk

En la foto de la Versión en Inglés está el Alcalde de Canchayllo, Eco. Pedro Pablo Arias con el Dr. Dennis Siluk, cerca de una pequeña Puya de Raimondi (aproximadamente de 10 años de edad, ellas viven hasta los 100 años de edad). Enero 2012

Labels: , ,