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- The Advantages & Disadvantages of HomeschoolingBy: tilak raj
- Poetry speaks to the Whole Family ChildrenBy: alvina khan
- Purpose of a Poem (and a Poem)By: Dennis Siluk
- Two Poems and a Commentary (...Mad City & Halo for Hell)By: Dennis Siluk
- Fantasy/Controversy or My Reality: CaptivatesBy: Ruth Garnes
- The Misty Poets [three Poems]By: Dennis Siluk
- Poetry ExercisesBy: Devrie Paradowski
- Four Poems: Harvest of Apoplectic Horses [Katrina's Pathway]By: Dennis Siluk
- Birthday MessagesBy: Francisraj Bonaventure
- 22 Steps to Poetry - FreestyleBy: Sheryl Joy OlaÃ±o
- It Was Not MeBy: Zora Teofilovic
- I Shall Wait...By: Shilpa Malaiya
- Give Me a Lily Pad & The Continuum [two Poems]By: Dennis Siluk
- Contract of Death [Now: in SPANISH and English]By: Dennis Siluk
- The Goat and the Rope [a Poem: in Spanish and English]By: Dennis Siluk
- Daybreak at Pikes Creek [a Poem]By: Dennis Siluk
- Blind Designs [a Poem] and a Note by Rosa on "The Other Door"By: Dennis Siluk
- Ole Bulky Jeeps & Paper, Ink and Rain [two Peoms]By: Dennis Siluk
- Poetry and Popular CultureBy: Devrie Paradowski
- Infected Ideologies [a Poetic Portrait]By: Dennis Siluk
- Wars, Air of Ambiguity [for: Lt. Laura Walker] in SPANISH and EnglishBy: Dennis Siluk
- Ceasar Vallejo: Black Roses [In English and Spanish]By: Dennis Siluk
- Memoirs of a Wasteland's Rim [a Poem: now in Spanish and English]By: Dennis Siluk
- Uamak's Aquatic [suspense: now in Spanish and English]By: Dennis Siluk
- Grandpa's House & From Iraq with Love [Two Poems]By: Dennis Siluk
- Breathing-in, Minnesota [a poem: now in Spanish and English]By: Dennis Siluk
- An Old Wood Pile [a poem with notes]By: Dennis Siluk
- The Exit Poems ["Iron and Fire" & "No Heroes"]By: Dennis Siluk
- Arizona Blue--Gunfighter: The Wolves Nest [Chapter One of Seven: The North]By: Dennis Siluk
- The Crusader: A Search for the Virtue Inside (an excerpt of an Epic Poem)By: Robert Curtis
The pros and cons of homeschooling are many, but do the advantages outweigh the disadvantages? With total control over your child's homeschooling needs you have the flexibility to teach your child values that cannot be taught in a public classroom.
From the moment the shiny new book arrived at my doorstep, I was excited to see what this incredible creation had in store for my son and for me.
I think most people writing poetry or writing about poetry, has their own concept of what should be, what shouldnâ€™t be, what is, what is not: you know, our own little world of poetry.
"New Orleans, Mad City"New Orleans, mad cityWhat have yea for your pence?I see the shackles in your keepHave opened doors to the sheepâ€” Yea! And souls of many!New Orleans, mad cityWhat thieves shall you invite?An old woman, your youth is done,Will the torches flare tonight? Now shadows come: the shadows goâ€” Yea! And the souls of many!New Orleans, mad cityWith no blood in the face!That toiled for gold and fame;The blood upon your thin pen Gave only free servitude: Yea! To the souls of many!#844 9/10/05Note by the author [brief commentary]: â€œPerhaps New Orleans will survive as it struggles to rise from beneath the iron waters of the tyrant storm.
Fantasy/Controversy or My Reality: a collection of poetic writing that comes from the heart.
Desolation [Dedicated to Poet Bei Dao of China]We are only Free Because the hunter Is far away, (but he is coming) The sun used to blind His eyesâ€”used to! Should the prey, think He is not pray He will be bellowing Over dray corpses Trembling as the hunter wipes The sun from his face.
Poetry is very much an art.
Four Poems: Katrina's PathwayHarvest of Apoplectic Horses ((Dedicated to: Katrina)) crisis)It has happened before: Nearby and afar, Where the four-horses of Apocalypse With their flaming nostrils Breathed in the fury of the winds Only to vomit out, disaster; â€” Then galloped away, Against pale faces!.
I WANTED TO SAY IT WITH A BUNCH OF FLOWERS A CARD WOULD HAVE SUFFICED.
First things first.
It was not me as I am now.
I Shall Wait.
What can I do to keep this world in its orbital spin? I gave up trying to win the hearts of the manyâ€”.
Contract of DeathI heard today, the preacher say: â€œDaniel has warned us long ago, Of the trials and tribulations we Are now facing, with our foesâ€¦â€He says the â€˜Antichristâ€™ was now In Europe crying: â€˜peace,â€™ and the â€˜Axis of Evil,â€™ had already placed Hidden Atomic Russian weaponsUnder our feet, here in the good Ole heart of the United States; â€˜Palestineâ€™s cry for peace,â€™ he adds, Is a loaded Gun for Revelation 3:10;America.
The Goat and the Ropewhere there were devils I saw none.
Daybreak at Pikes Creek [Summer of 2005]Daybreak by Lake Superior Rising out of the woods like: A swamp mist Iâ€™m waiting for breakfast(at the B&B) I pace the grounds The scent of green shrubbery: Trees, flora, flowersâ€”rain Intoxicates meâ€” Branches like big brown arms Descendâ€¦ The embankment, to the right Blue eyed, like mineâ€”reflect From the creek beneath me (my wife says â€˜be carefulâ€™ she went to get the camera) The greens and blues touch My face and blue jeansâ€” Reflections mirrored like Musical notes of a symphony (Iâ€™ll see them later in pictures) For now, itâ€™s daybreak In Minnesota.
Blind DesignsBorn today, gone tomorrow Like a butterfly with no stomach Born n the morning, dead by night Ohâ€”let me whisper Ohâ€”let me cry What man has not learned? What man will not learn! In his pomposity, his rhetoric With his abstract concepts With his intellect With his creativeness He has become enslaved Byâ€”themâ€¦ By them all, he will fall.
Ole Bulky JeepsThrough late summerâ€™s heat These bulky shaped jeeps Ride by house and farm City and barnâ€”Hungry for Springâ€”again, hoping to avoid The Slipping and sliding Of winterâ€™s ice and windâ€¦[s]Their weighty legs are dirty From moving dust and rain (Here and there, everywhere) Through all kinds of terrain Like moving clouds caught In the foliage of the woodsâ€¦ They never slow down a ting They have a duty, and give.
Is poetry too complicated for the average reader? Is it too cryptic, scholarly? If you ask a large group of average people what they like or don't like about poetry, you'll get a few different answers, but there is an overwhelmingly common category of responses.
the disease of extremism is infectiousâ€”; whoever cannot think of their child growing up without it is part of the phenomenon! (the choice of the day).
Wars, air of AmbiguityDedicated to 1st.
Cesar Vallejo: Black RosesBow down your head olâ€™ poetâ€” To face Godâ€™s grace ahead There are no more trenchesTo dig todayâ€¦ In the forest of your head,Soâ€”: Bow down, bow down,Olâ€™ barbaric poet! Death rides the horse ahead I hear the crackling of a whip See the crazed eyes of death.
Memoirs of a Wastelandâ€™s RimIt still was light when she paused at the wastelandâ€™s rimâ€” Over, the rim rest like a sleeping brute, a wooden frame Adjacent to the blue where early stars hung like oil lamps Hanging from old beams and shadeâ€¦the wooden frame Her footing caught the beams, as she had fallen onto it Alone, she watched the forenoon, climbing around her A drifter woman, marked by life, and slanting dreams With appearance of hurt and molded muscle on her face Her figure etched against the wooden frame, She tried to jump, and lost her balance, hanging like a bird Now sipping the gloom in the ledge and shattered hopes She yielded before the sluggish advance of sunset Blood dripped, with her dying darkness And a crimson moon hurled a flame across The shadowy clouds, burning throughout the sky The tormented sky above herâ€¦Crossing the valleyâ€™s floor her eye gripped it Rocky images, highest points Thrusting herself up boldly from to the ledge The painted morning blushed over the rim Her brows and nose, face against the granite stone Massive injuries was taking form, Her silhouette floating so indolently across the sun It was too great a taskâ€”to die aloneâ€¦she wished now She had not jumpedâ€¦a thousand feet below, yet to go.
Delicately, my mind was selecting a muffled tune, out of the dead dark empty space surrounding meâ€¦I saw a shape on a rock, not sure who it was; I had a sensitivity though, a feeling call it, or second-sight; Iâ€™ve heard that before, not sure if I want to put a lot of credence into it, but so be it, the sensitivity and numbness was there.
Grandpaâ€™s House [The ole Real House]The house needed painting Sun-blistered and flaking Grandpa started to have us Boysâ€”Mike and Iâ€” start Doing some scrapingâ€”While he, pealed off the ole Paint, and started paintingâ€¦Just a humble wooden house With several rooms, but Strong enough to keep the Winds and winter snows out, How he loved that ole house!.
In early fall, in Minnesota, the rain falls, falls, In buckets, buckets and more bucketsâ€”: drops Likened to music from its many streamsâ€”land Of ten-thousand lakes; moistened gravel, gravel Everywhereâ€¦Grandpa sits on the porchâ€”daydreaming of, of Something, perhaps winter around the cornerâ€”; As the flies disappear, with the mosquitoesâ€¦ Leaves will soon vanish, shadows will come earlyMaybe heâ€™s thinking about summer: miles and miles And miles and miles of cornfields; his childhood now Long gone, he hums a hymn, a song; looking at the Metal-piped fence, he made, with three poles, on the Embankment, leading up the steps to the porch; Itâ€™s worn-out like him.
Old skin, once held tight Against her skeletonâ€” Rose no more, just draped Loosely over unpadded flesh; Un-tightened muscles, and tissue, Lost its courage, no-fortitudeâ€”, Gone are the days and years That stood against the Indomitable elements; The skeleton, now a landmark Hidden under flesh and blood Guts and moral fiber, backboneâ€¦ Collapsed from drudgery Time, time: cascading insideâ€”.
The Exit Poems [And Socrates]Iron and FireIron can be soften by fireâ€” grows hard in the cold; and all the gates therein are, as it was, closed again.
[Episode Five]Arizona Blueâ€”GunfighterThe Wolves Nestâ€”in the North[Episode Five]Northern Minnesota Areaâ€“Winter of 1877Chapter One of Seven: The NorthThe area was known as Pigs Eye [St.
On through the darkness she searches the bones Seeking the hand of her love; Deep in the stillness, the maid searches on, Petitioning help from above.