1) Picking Lilac’s
When I was a youth, I picked my grandfather’s lilacs, --smelling them as if—they were golden apples of cinnamon—, golden apples of chance. I didn’t know why I picked them, at the time, I just did: saw beauty in the simplicity of it; they were perhaps much like me, simple.
‘Where would life lead me?’ I asked myself: while picking those purple lilacs, as if they were yellow and white dandelions, in the backyard; where indeed, would it lead? There I planted my seeds— I guess [unknowingly.
When I was young, becoming a young man, I wanted to become—grow up to be many things. Things people laughed at: said, ‘Impossible,’—said: ‘you’re from there: nowhere.’ They’d say: ‘…you’re too much of this,’ and ‘not enough of that, so don’t expect to live your dreams…’ I was the jest of it.
I was silent in most all this kidding and ribbing: I recall: most all of this did make me think though: think I was better than that: their ill advice, that free-flung dogmatic wisdom: negativisms.
And so with books, adventures in mind, energy and chances, I traveled, got debt-free, I became, little by little the man I dreamed, planned, schemed, wanted to be: expectations of a dray dead voice, active mind, always haunting me. Little by little the man I planned was coming, and they would see.
Jumping every hurdle in my way, burying pride in a watery grave; burning all those negative reminders off my back [who I was and where I came from, where I should be: I planted new seeds.
And became the person I wanted to see: little by little wanted to be, it became me, simply by picking those lilacs so many years ago and thinking: learning, taking time: planting seeds, watering my needs; cultivation, watching it grow, that was part of my goal, working a plan, like my grandfather di d so many years ago when he came over from Russia, to America. Yes, simply by picking and thinking.
He yelled at me for many things (Grandpa: back in those far off days), in our extended family ways: but never, never for picking those silly purple and white lilacs off those bushes in the backyard, while I was thinking; and now I know why: Harvest Time.
#1344 [10/2005
In Spanish Translated by Rosa Pentaloza de Siluk
Poema Introductorio
Recoleccin de Lilas
Cuando era joven, coga las lilas de mi abuelo, —oliendo ellas como si—fueran manzanas de oro de canela—, manzanas de oro de posibilidades. No saba por qu las coga, en ese entonces, solamente lo hice: vi la belleza en la simplicidad de ello; ellas se parecian quizs mucho a m, simples.
‘Dnde me conducira la vida?’ Me pregunt: mientras cogia aquellas lilas prpuras, en el patio trasero, como si ellas fueran dientes de len amarillos y blancos; dnde de verda d, conducira esto? All plant mis semillas—pienso [inconscientemente.
Cuando era jven, convirtindome en un joven, quise ser—crecer para ser muchas cosas. Cosas del que la gente se reia: decian, ‘Imposible’, —decian: ‘tu eres de all: de ninguna parte’. Ellos diran: ‘…tu eres demasiado de esto, y no suficiente de aquello, por eso no esperes vivir tus sueos … ' yo era la broma de ellos.
Yo estaba silencioso la mayor parte de todas estas bromas y burlas: Recuerdo: la mayor parte de todo esto me hizo pensar sin embargo: pensar que yo era mejor que esto: su consejo enfermo, aquella sabidura dogmtica libre-tirada: negativismos.
Y entonces con libros, aventuras en mente, energa y posibilidades, viaj, me libre de deudas, me converti poco a poco en el hombre que so, planifique, proyecte, que quise ser: expectaciones de una seca voz muerta, mente activa, siempre persistente. Poco a poco el hombre que plani fiqu vena, y ellos veran.
Saltando cada barrera en mi camino, enterrando orgullo en una tumba acuosa; quemando todos aquellos recuerdos negativos de mi pasado [quin era y de donde vine, donde debera estar: Plant nuevas semillas.
Y me hice la persona que quise ver: que poco a poco queria ser, me hice simplemente cogiendo aquellas lilas hace tantos aos atras y pensando: estudiando, tomando tiempo: plantando semillas, regando mis necesidades; cultivandolas, mirndolas crecer, eso era parte de mi objetivo, trabajando un plan, como lo hizo mi abuelo hace muchos aos atras cuando l vino de Rusia a Amrica. S, simplemente cogiendo lilas y pensando.
l me gritaba por muchas cosas (mi abuelo: all en aquellos das lejanos), en nuestra forma de familia extendida: pero nunca, nunca por coger aquellas ridculas lilas prpuras y blancas de aquellos arbustos en el patio de atrs, mientras yo pensaba; y ahora s por qu: Tiempo de Cosecha.
# 1344 [Octubre/2005
2. Least Likely
The past is stone
The future is unreal
The present is eternal
#1340 [8/2005
3. Satan Offers
Satan offers freedom:
At the expense of mans
Stupid confidence.
#1341 [8/2005
4. Arrival
Love arrives in the present,
Gratitude in the past—
The future—vice.
#1342 [8/2005
5. Fill My Bell: Freedom
Something I like about freedom—
With its echoing sidekicks called:
Liberty and pursuit of happiness:
It is not for free you know—
It never was, never will be—
Even though it seems like it should be.
I went to a grocery store yesterday—
Bought some food, to fill my belly,
Oh I know it’s not all that exquisite
Discriminating, of an example,
As simple as it is, it is:
No one said I couldn’t: freedom—!
#1343 [9/2005
See Dennis' web site: http://dennissiluk.tripod.com
Author:: Dennis Siluk
Keywords:: Poetry
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