Cow (and other poetic prose poetry) Part 1

1) Cow and man

Dark Brown was a cow facing down the brown road of Port du Prince, IT Department, by an orphanage (July 1986). I frown my cow skin like it stretches behind but it's a long thick horn, pale white! Driving, tired, wearing was a cattle blending with brown on the ground! They melted into the earth, tearing with the cold lips of a light rose in the dark brown black Ox Man's body, tired from sweating from the sun's flames. He had to stay in the sand of the beads and was walking for a long time walking through the branch with a brown, winding tree branch. (I am looking at a lonely meditation, but I have never noticed my noble etching and my bright yellow sparkle on my face. Humanity draped in the afternoon's heat This scene got a little warmer from 11 o'clock to 3 o'clock, the third was dark brown, the eyes were blown away eyes, dark brown, black splattered his hair Watching corn on the next farm The taller stick is brown and green brown brown straw hat surrounded by his brown brown crate which was some cute brown, but not black, olive, green, Old rubber tire, worn axle, dark black, blend All brown brown brown brown dust and soil bowl, they came (all the earth turned brown for them) cows The fixation of the glow of a man's shirt, He was neither color nor green nor green-blue The sea on the stone-colored brown path where they came, and to the sea behind them, he looked backwards and turned brown light ( Dust and dust, soot and soil are all dissolved in the atmosphere.) What appeared in his era of life is always brown, black and pale green spots for me ...

What is broken between him and the cow? He saves what he made with the image of God. He was neither Plato nor Socrates, and he could not do so either. He also had no roses from Barabushi. The world, my time, his own kind ...

At that time, how close they are to life, how difficult life is, for the cows and everyday people the sun striking their heads, shoulders and hands, touching the body, the root of the soul, the poor For the bulls and the portrait near the wide back of the bull, and how the birds in the afternoon were hiding from the rough sun, it is neither a man nor a cow, sorrow is genuine, my Because I am lonely because I am lonely, because I am lonely, I am lonely in my soul, in time - this thing itself, a man I never knew, a man who I never forgot I only loved everything for myself In such a case, the soul seems to be looking, dreaming, seeing the dreams of other worlds, blindly and forever, # 39; s-

I was thinking at that time: Where is the light color of nature other than brown or black, watery green and the green of the sea hidden? Even in the evening sun, even near the sparkle, it looks like rusty red iron, it has a tan shade. In the daytime brown and black are long and there are green spots. To the extent possible, I just did not see the brightly shining color, a natural gift to mankind - I was looking closer at human and its cow)

This land is for me a brown fountain, an eternal ecstasy, a garden that was continued to be laughed among people, a tropical region like a garden, a vast flowing stream and a wet fertilizer mud, a brown huge A bargain, a flying fly around a sugar cane, a moonlight of a rough twilight, a street lamp almost almost gone outside, a strange face of brown and black with a strange face of brown and black, which at first glance is not awakening at a gathering of strange people ! Like black magic, every day led by a colorless night echoes along the Christian bell in their sounding voodoo drum, there is always room for wise life

I felt then, then again. And, I still feel like I leave me all to write this poem that I have never written, but now there is no mind overflowing before the sunrise tomorrow, this As it will not rain again - this is now done for this land and the Haitian cow man. It was an empty roof, but not today, not today, today is a dazzling light of a bitter life. I must remember brown and peace and delicacy that fell like snow on the ground that involved this island And I: This is as much as possible of the world hidden from humanity as much as possible The

# 3886 (4-27-2013)

2) Dog's admiration

(Poetry) (poem of Lima)

As if defending us, a huge gray stumbling block as if God definitely knew intruders, intruders, or another rushing place, as if we were protecting us But, despite his heavy tail hanging there, his big head is hanging low, what is his brain thinking and his brain does not think? He protects the image of God. I like chicken and Turkish bones my wife offers. When my wife feeds him, the tampard's eyes shine. I think she is like a handsome priest to him.

I wrote this poem with a happy Holy Spirit within me - I think that it means that I have a heavenly morning.

# 3844 (4 - 14 - 2013)

Note: Poetry and poetry: In essence, poetry poetry is short story, but I believe. Second, the image centered on the object: it is represented by a layer. In this case, it is a dog. Thirdly, as the mind does not leave the theme, as you read "Dog's admiration", in the first sentence "... a huge gray insect ..." is set. One must remember, it is a stanza, not a sentence we are seeing. The author also uses this verse, mutt metronomy, eg for dogs.

3) Old poet

(Robert Bly-a Minnesota Poem) (poetry)

Death casts a shadow on an old poet, Robert Bly, who dreamed of poetry for nearly a century. Like all the elderly, he is scraping rocky sand. Now there are arms like hollow legs and bacon.

When he leaves, trees, leaves, grass and wind will vandal his old farmland, and he will recite poems. It will be his legacy like a smoke free chimney.

# 3852 (4 - 18 - 2013)

Note: Here we use metaphorical words: meaning does not mean "weapons like hollow legs and bacon", but other forms of words are also trees and leaves, we know I can not do poetry. Poetical prose here is centered on poets, as the heart spontaneously expresses the effect. The layer of that meaning, essentially the lament before it. Please call it tribute. People will attach to the structure and by doing so will lose the effect that is the soul of the poem and the main event. Poetry here says what the poet wants to say. We are displaying 21 words, and that poem is only 87 words. Rather it is, it often makes time for jagged reading. Also, a strong reading comprehension (10 words, 6 sentences out of 7 sentences) is connected from one line to the next. Note 2: The poet here uses personalization and reverses it: therefore, it gives a natural attribute represented by a person. Normally it is the opposite: "Tree ... leaf ... grass ... ..." The author, the poet, uses the figure of "... smoke without smoking" to represent death. Sometimes we call it idolization. Both poets met once in 2005.

4) Life is a psalm

I can achieve my life goal.

When leaving, leave something to waste time.

To make life honest and brave life, from cradle to tomb -

From the dust: We dust back, but the soul, death will not recover.

Thus, we fill the heart, with faith and love,

Let us pursue, pursue and burial the dead in the dead!

# 3861 (4 - 21 - 2013)

Note: Some of the poems or poetry for me coming back to me as readers is what I call true poetry.

5) First lieutenant

Lieutenant told me long ago - told me, I could not do it!

How did he look? It is so magnificent and noble, so long ago it is thin and elliptical!

Oh, funny, I think now: - I'm sure he's pretty much alarmed ...
If he knows, I will become a general!

# 3862 (4 - 21 - 2013)

Note: This verse "The Lieutenant" expresses experiences that have been done in the past, not more philosophical. He has something to say with perfect poetic dignity. Just like the middle-ranked one, it exceeds all expectations, achieves the highest possible rank and grade, and also passes the lieutenant. It is a positive quality and is written to give stimuli.

6) Kee Deep in August

(Huancayo, Peru) (poetry)

Tell me what I want to make the best! In a certain month of August, - one afternoon, at Huancayo in Peru, I feel just like Plaza de Arms, as I was doing. Please sit down on the bench and take a rest. Feel the breeze coming through the mountains and do something else! I would like to see a dove with the roof diving of the old cathedral for the cones thrown by the children. Let's see the sellers of ice cream that I intrigue. I like to scrutinize sparrows as they climb some trees. Probably you will find the nest hidden in some branches. I read a good book of poetry and fall asleep with a breeze in August.

# 3864 (4-21-2013)

Note: Poetic prose, or a weighed poem, or rhyme, is not all that matter, but the writer wants to write his work but there is no reason he can not do so. In some cases I will use Poetic Prose Rhyme. Literature is generally not more restricted than poetry. Of course, poetry is more selective and shorter, it may generate more images than prose. It is to make the truth unilaterally or different. Here, the poet avoids emotional things, makes everyday things, and attempts to recreate the world of experience. This can also be done with poems and essays. Since we are trying to avoid the poor and insufficient of weighed poetry, mountains, doves, branches, etc.

7) To an old aunt Betty

(A Minnesota Poem) (poetry)

Were not you my brothers on a lost day of a long time ago?

Time -

Our youth, when the week has come, went to the old aunt Betty.

Have you made a visit card, or monopoly?

Today I will be back to myself - because I am old, you are gray.

Still, we regret every day ...
Why, I am now a kitchen, cardboard table,

Card

And her face, your face, and my face, and also my mother

Drinking coffee, Betty also ...

# 3866 (4 - 21 - 2013)

Note: Here, the poet is trying to communicate the richness of the world around us in the simplest language. In this case it is part of the past.

8) Family problems

I do not know how it all started, really I do not know!

Sometimes we were all camouflage - (by chance)

Perhaps they were always frustrated with me.

Clearly, nothing was clear between us.

- Why was the quiet Cold War started? (And when?

"What are you thinking?" Nobody asked that question.

I said to Rosa: "You have to ask my child

Certainly they can still remember. "She replied, dry ait:

"I tried, I tried it really ... I want to be with their side."

# 3840 (4 - 14 - 2013)

Note: Poems of Minnesota. US version of Ghazal format / Confessional format poetry / poetry (for: Cody, Shawn and Zaneta)

9) Bee going up the bee

Honey bee

Just look at them

Calling for loneliness

I am making an effort within me!

As if they do not have eyes.

Bee eggs are lying on the floor

Hive's

I quickly broke a small feather

On their backs,

Climb each other ...
How did God find time (?)

# 3837 (4 - 14 in 2013)

Note: Nature Poems: In the central jungle of Peru, it was called Satipo, but the author had considerable experience in wasp hive (2009). It was busy in life, and here he was ready to move it on the way until he heard a ringing ... The author is inspired by the diversity of Taoist natural poetry.

10) Afternoon poetry

(For Martha and Armando)

In the afternoon after eating and talking with family and friends (like celebrating Martha and Armando's wedding at the age of 18) (I asked if they are in a hurry? I was tired for a long time. It is like an old turtle in Galapagos. The Galapagos has been living for hundreds of years, and no one is doing anything. Here, with the feet of sandal feet, I accept myself and place it on my bed, fall into a dream 1000 years ago ...!

# 3837 (4-14-2013) / Mary-Sofa case

Note: The author was in Galapagos in 2005.

11) The little insect pest of God

(Poetry of Minnesota in April)

In Minnesota, when winter is over and snow falls on the roof roof, a boxed bug occurs. Home bend and elongation - The chimney's neck stops smoking and approaches the sun at first glance. The little pest of God is the calendar of the person Minnesota.

# 3841 (4 - 14 - 2013)

Note: As I write each poem, the word "small pest of God" is a system that often runs together like images and is formed in my head and may not work well at first I ordered them, but I remember that they are ironing them on time and I remember that not all the poems rhymed.

11) Fields in Florence

(Elemi, World War II poetry)

In the field of Florence

Row of columns

Mark Americans place

Hero, from the Second World War!

I can hardly hear it among today's young people

But they shout. "We are dead.

I lived soon ...
And now here we tell a lie,

In the field of Florence! ...
Take the Torch of Freedom

Break the faith, "they scream.

Because you died to live.

In the field of Florence! ... "

# 3865 (4-21-2013) / devoted to PFC Frank T. Siluk, 1st Tk BN; 1st arm part died on 19th April 1945. It was buried in Florence, Italy.

12) Dead Penguin

(Magdalen Island, Punta Arena, Chile, 2010)

On Magdalena is walking on a narrow street, I will come to a dead penguin. He blends into the earth like logs. I stand up and see, my living body has hesitancy: My God, penguin is crying beside - he mourns his companion! This is what I think: grief to God for the dead - song of the funeral? A heavy breath comes out of me. My stomach feels like the sky falls.

His head is arched, the small eyes are half closed, he is little by little dead.

The wind blows cold ice into the air. This is the end of the world. His little flip looks like a dwarf's arm. Here, 140 thousand penguins are all moving about in tuxedo. I touch the penguin that will reach out, but it is forbidden. I simply move.

# 3854 (4 - 18 - 2013) poetic prose

NOTE: Expression language means words that do not actually make sense, such as "Tuxedos" which represents a penguin black and white frame (skin or hide). And, "flippers like flapping arms" is almost useless for penguins, not arms, flippers. Darwin called them wings. How stupid is he?

13) From Just One Girl

(Washington High School, 1965)

Let's put all the breath for a girl and the whole world in one bag! When I was prime and young, when I was in high school at first glance I was daily changing from the corridor to the daily room, which of the appearances was true? Brighter than jewelry, she remembers me after thirty years. However, what was not so was not the case. White eyes than pearl ... I am watching from only one girl.

# 3863 (4 - 21 - 2013)

Gail Johnson

14) The buoyant sea

(Offshore Lima, Peru)

In the sea's jagged rocks and in the city of Lima,

The sky is expensive,

Every year, the ocean approaches near the coast,

Then, watching the condor flying,
As if to go out on the horizon!

Waves, jagged rocks and restaurants

"Rosa Nautica"

The castrated gull moves without feeling restless.

Self-sympathetic ...
Massacre stretches his neck, overlooking the house

Look at the park, signs of life to the end:

Sparrows and pigeons walk on a narrow shelf,

These dead body creatures are high from low to low, back and forth,

Buoyant sea ...

# 3867 (4-22-2013)

Note: In this floating sea "Floating sea", I am reluctantly a little disappointed, I may be absorbed in myself, probably it is impossible, but massacre I must eat it. Fruit: Everything has to be eaten like sparrows, doves and condors. Of course, this complicates my soul. Because I am more than a pigeon for a sparrow, you can of course see it. Why is this? I have no desire to claim massacres, but I still need to write him. To say figuratively, can you do one with the exception of hollow trees? I'm hungry to fill me with charming things with leaves, but I learned to accept what appears to the end. And in this case, the poem must have insects and sparrows in it.

15) The days of the sun and rain

(Haiti - 1986)

The sun descends on dusty July night and cools the earth

It is very good in highlands and lowlands of Haiti.

It is being aroused The sun turns around:

It is attractive to make harmless fiery heat and fire.

It quickly moves the leaves of the forest above the mountain

The way to enter the villa
The sun resembles a bronze demon walking on the edge of this

Part of the world suffocated sulfur and doubled it,

Then it will rain (often it will not rain)!

And when that happens you can see the moon is full:

The earth is like a shadow pond. Partly, dried with mud

Up river bed.

No: 3034 ((poetry format 8-28-2011; revised 4-22-2013) (1986 - a memo when the author stayed in Haiti for two weeks on a mission trip)) Above picture, past. Naason Mulatre, 26 years author's best friend.

16) Cataratas of Iguazu

(Great Falls in Brazil)

I tell God's footprints - Iguacu is beautiful -

As though the water of the waterfall was blessed
As if it was a god, 100,000 years ago

Please observe the promise and keep it. It will never be less! ...

They throw the most pleasing light into their eyes.

Sky! Each water drop, one drop of water drop:

Some wild, some gentle, all left to reach somewhere

Someone: In order to win more than others, they sing,

Hit it like a drum, hit your face, wet your body,

Sometimes hurt your eyes ... (Do not come too close!)

There are various things in Iguacu.

They never, never - never, really end! ...

# 3734 (3-11 - 2013) / For; Dra. Glass · Margau · Miguel · Villaru

17) Time runs out

For friends, do not give up hope of rapture.

We may have to live without it.

Karl Sagan believes that an airplane carries us.

Older people's farm old man puts King of Hearts

Down, nausea's saliva, nicotine fingers dirty

The baby is born. He knows he is running his course ...!

The yellow eyes of the wolf in the forest give us

About each lack of mercy we feel after each funeral

Why is the safety a little low? We will see the manufacturer soon.

Friend, Christ abandoned its original sin. that is,

& # 39; Through baptism & # 39; yet, we are still stuck here

Heaven and hell, we have to work and live like a Christian!

# 3778 (2-27-2013)

18) Losing sight (small birds)

This week I felt like crying when a big bird robbed a baby bird for something from inside my garden.

I think it is natural like an infant scream. There was nothing there

Please call the danger hidden in the garden from other birds.

In my life I can admire so many things. Baby bird loss

I did not feel right for me - I could possibly have saved him.

Why did not I? I was too busy to film the movie. With my joy, I lost sight of nearby predators.

Note: inspired by Rumi's writings, influenced the structure of the stanza a little. The author wants to express it as easy to lose in his daily life, looking at the relationship with Christ as easily as taking his eyes off the bird. # 3993 (3 - 29 - 2013)

19) Cloud Muhludo Moon

(Short poetic prose legend) (1971 Vietnam's truth description)

Violently armed Vietnamese village is somewhat dirty

From our base camp and South China Sea,

It is the night of the moon like a cloud that lighted the night sky a little.

I was sneaking up with one hundred rifles, some machine guns waiting,

Should I show the face of a white Irishman? I leave in the morning: I was creeping in order to enjoy it.

There is a night of it to shake off my adrenaline. I could have been

Martial Court, I think it was in violation of all the rules.

Not a wise decision, but silently I jumped over the high barbwire fence

It was important at all times.

Viet Cong ruled the village at night and the South Vietnamese Army

That was always the case.

No matter where you are, Vietcong this night,

But this was not a real danger, so I felt it was a guard

I have to overcome the tower in the morning.

Not an enemy, but a friendly Vietnamese manages it,

And perhaps, I am an enemy, a mistake

Arm to kill or just shoot me for thrill

In fact, it is lost to think that it is not so.

I found a girl in a village that is not restricted,

Swirl.

And I did, I just did it, drink it, with some dog meat soup

I'm drunk until I leave ...

The ground is soft in the morning dew,

High barbwire fence - disappearing in the month cue:

Gray morning lifting; therefore, I reached the edge of the top:

"Do not move", my heart whispered. And I froze in one place.

On a terrible fence -

I must have blended into the eyes of the guardian deity in the tower at that moment

Nearby I was not bothered by my slow motion sequence,

Catch my plan - yes, I,

After I landed on the soft ground, I did not leave a shadow

Daylight was broken.

I am on that long day, a cat with 9 lives, otherwise

God has saved me for something else ...!

# 3804 (April 2 & 3, 2013)