1?The Muttering Souls
I awoke from a dream, dark and somber
(I was back in the arctic again)?
profound it was, to find out a single
arctic door, with a cryptic murmur
(muttering souls)
stubbornly opened up?all filled with pillars
and ice cold floors: adorned me evermore.
Layer, upon layer: laid, stood, and paced,
were the dead!...
(With folded arms and sunken in chests.)
Half frozen in the halls of hell; and thus, I
feared the wisdom of each silent shape!
(For I knew my life was complacency.)
#1084 1/18/2006
2?O Quiet Dust
And so we changed at last!
Ah! From changeless years
we seemed to have had
noisy with life, we grew old).
O quiet dust, have you settled yet?
Life gnawed at heart and soul,?
And you bore the pain (if so).
Are we not all a mystery??
Here comes the: day, hour, minute?
Ah! who will meet me at the
Pathless gate??
#1084 1/18/2006
3?The Land of Forever More
[Dedicated to the aging with dignity group]
Wholesome snowflakes of winter blow
And squirrels hide avoid the snow,
In this city I roamed as a boy,
Carefree and many years ago.
Strange even to myself, am I!
For the lads that roamed with me,
(Years ago); are changed I see
Like me?gray and some are dead.
And now as I look out, from my porch
Memories haunt the hollow past,
And yes, I still hear voices, echoes,
Old dreams, old friends vibrating back.
I wait now for the path and sunrise?.
I who will journey, beyond the stars;
I notice the light is not so very far:
I see it now, in a land called?forever more!
#1083 1/18/06
The Poet?s House
1?A Lone Poet
A poet is a gift from God
(I heard said once);
listen to him said Jeffers
(back in ?63); but for the sake
of God, let him be?do not
kill his art, his play, like you
did to Keats and Hemmingway.
A poet is one who has learned
and whispers back what
Faulkner dare not say! And thus,
lost his way.
#1083 1/18/2006 [Inspired by Robinson Jeffers]
2?The Basalt Hunchback
Death, the black basalt hunchback
(The Poet of Volcanic realism):
Strolls through the countryside,
City pathways: servant to no man,
Avoided by all men who want to live?
You sits and watches us labor?victors
go home, while others stay.
No one but death knows their fate:
Except Christ!
#1083 1/19/2006
See Dennis' web site: http://dennissiluk.tripod.com
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