Stone Beds [A Poem and an Advance]
Stone Beds [A Poem and an Advance]
Stone Beds
[Pompeii's surge]Advance: after the great eruption of Pompeii's nearby volcano, Vesuvius, some two-thousand years ago in the heyday of the Roman Empire, what was left of the city were mostly ashes of stone from an unleashing furnace; it is hard to imagine what the people went through (none, not one person survived). I can only guess from the looks of the city today, and in its early excavations, its people were baked alive or asleep, like pottery. In many cases, beds were turned into stones. I have been to Italy twice, and Pompeii, most be the most blazing archeological sites in the world.For those not familiar with Pompeii, (the city, for there was also a General in the Roman Army, called Pompeii, whom gave his name to the city), for those folks, let me clarify: just the name stimulates deep slurs if not down right nightmarish emotions.Pompeii is located by the Bay of Neapolis. The time of the eruption, was A.D. 79. Pompeii, was a resort city, as you might think of Los Vegas. It was the Roman Empires richest city, with luxurious villas, and all seemed to live a most enjoyable lifestyle. This city reminds me of the Titanic, and Sodom and Gomorra. Yes, Pompeii was a most corrupt and violent city, or town-let, as some would have it.The Poem:Stone BedsSkin vaporized
Bones incinerated
Brains boiled-Then exploded!Skulls stained from
Red cerebral matter,
Like a glass that shattered;Teeth disintegrated.Dim and faint was their fate.Suffocation
Decomposed
Solidified-:The shapes of bodies?;Contorted positions-
Buried alive:
Like eggs packed,In clay pottery!...Note: 5/8/05 #642Author/Poet Dennis Siluk, http://dennissiluk.tripod.com
Eds Poem
Eds Poem
Ed Gallagher Dec. 11, 1907 - Sept. 5, 2004This poem was written for Ed Gallagher, a good friend and neighbour on the day his wife called me to let me know that he was in the hospital and wasn't expected to live. I was asked by the family to read this at the gathering after the funeral service and copies were given to all his family members.It is important to recognize that we will miss our loved ones, despite the fact that they have lived to a good age, and especially when they die young.People will say
That you lived a good life
You had many years
With your kids and your wife.You lived a good life
Yes, it is true
But that doesn't mean
We won't miss you.The sound of your voice
The pace of your step,
These are things
We won't forget.Your years on the farm
Were not spent in vain
You raised quite a crew
Through your toil and strain.Though your sight and your hearing
Had begun to dim
Your mind was as sharp
As a tack or a pin.Your head was filled
With all kinds of facts
Sports, people, farming,
Living life to the max.When I came to visit
You expected a hug
And a simple kiss
On your smiling mug.The light in your eyes
When you talked with a friend,
Those are the memories
That will never end.You will be missed
Of that there's no doubt
And we'll think of you often
When we're out and about.Or when we are watching
A game on tv
And hear them announcing
He scores, or strike three.You lived a good life
Yes that is true.
But that doesn't mean
We won't miss you!copyright September 2004Fran Watson
"Expert Author"
http://www.franwatson.ca
http://www.mormunny4u.org
http://www.diet-basics.org
Daybreak at Pikes Creek [a Poem]
Daybreak at Pikes Creek [a Poem]
Daybreak at Pikes Creek
[Summer of 2005]Daybreak by Lake Superior
Rising out of the woods like:
A swamp mist
I'm waiting for breakfast(at the B&B)
I pace the grounds
The scent of green shrubbery:
Trees, flora, flowers-rain
Intoxicates me-
Branches like big brown arms
Descend?
The embankment, to the right
Blue eyed, like mine-reflect
From the creek beneath me
(my wife says 'be careful'
she went to get the camera)
The greens and blues touch
My face and blue jeans-
Reflections mirrored like
Musical notes of a symphony
(I'll see them later in pictures)
For now, it's daybreak
In Minnesota.#813 8/26/2005Note: the author, Dennis Siluk, took his wife Rosa [me: on my birthday] to Lake Superior, this summer, and I adored the biggest lake in the world. We stayed at a Bed and Breakfast, just outside a few miles from Bayfield, Wisconsin. As we had gotten up for breakfast, we walked outside and into the woods in back of the B&B, and then back towards the Mansion [Pinehurst Inn], and discovered to the side of us was an embankment, and the poet, my husband, had to climb down the twenty feet to the Creek, and I took a picture of him gazing into the creek, a most captivating picture with all the reflections of daybreak in it. It will be used for the new book of poetry: "Peruvian Poems," to be out next month. Rosa Pe