Poetry "Reborn" Emerges In Thriller Mystery Novel

Since Mohamed Alithen Cassius Clayannounced that he had written The worlds shortest poem, I have known that I would be a poet. ME? WHEE! His triumphant proclamation evoking shivers within my troubled teenaged identity, for I reasoned in rhyme.

Everyday, hundreds-of-thousands of seemingly sane souls satisfy some innate need to bare their concealed character via atrocious alliteration or in delusional doggerel. As in Kris Kristoffersons early works, the marvelous magic masquerades within sweet musical lyrics, providing us with eternal material transcending generational barriers.

Even if none but we are ever allowed to examine our hidden essence, an inner longing is unleashedonly to be squishedshould we presume to be published.

In1978, I self-published my first Poetry book, Beacon, to an enthusia stic reception of some uninformed who didnt reAlize, fearing rejection, I had never submitted my musings to somber publishers. After all, Rod McKuen, suffering countless rejections, had self-published. And he was saidat that timeto be, The worlds most widely read poet.

To the accolade of local yokel fans, the following year, I followed up with Imperfections, Verse by Russ Miles, songs and thoughts reflecting who, where, and what I wasat that time in my life. Even more well received, I was enjoying the affirmative attention of a metropolitan newspaper Poetry editor insisting that I co-chair a college invitational symposium for wantabe poets with the State Poet LaTourette. My books selling well, a youthful, insatiable ego was being satisfactorily stroked.

Then, a strange thing happened. I caught a case of conscience. What if an unforgiving God held me accountable for my wanton actions or the impact of foisting my unholy understandings upon innocents?

Frightening purgatorialor worsereprisal prospects triggered instantaneous actions. Removing all remaining copies from the marketplaces which I had developed for distribution, I stopped penning Poetry for the next twenty-five years.

Disabled at age fifty-three by Multiple Sclerosis, I found myself writing another book, For Sale By Owners:FSBO. A mystery thriller Novel evolved offering some insights that only a self-absorbed, worldly man of three messed-upped marriages could possibly convey.

I continue learning that God is so forgiving. How He can inspire good to come of all things. Even some of my old songs are once more awaiting discovery thanks to the song-writing, truck-driving character appearing between the FSBO covers.

By todays standards, Red Harings vivid verse words and wayward rhyme renderings are no longer abysmal. Rather they reflect the subtle Its all about me immoral fiber of a masculine malewrestling with post 9-11 internal issueschoosing to make changes in his so self-consumed life. Reds songs emerge to stimulate reflections within Brooklyn Best, the no-saint heroine, real estate Agent with whom he becomes romantically involvedwhile being knitted together to unravel some horrific homicidesin this reAlity based Novel. Through its use in a sub-plot, my Poetry is being Reborn.

As for Beacon and Imperfections, perhaps Ill offer my few remaining hand signed & numbered First Edition & Limited Edition Poetry books on e-Bay. After all, John GrishaMs originally published Novels are now collectors iteMs arent they?

Free-Reprint Article Written by: Russ Miles See TerMs of Reprint Below.

A rticle Copyright: 2005

Author Contact Email: mailto:MilesRuss@Gmail.com

-----------------------------------------------------------------

TERMS OF REPRINT - Publication Rules

This is a Free-Reprint article. The only requirements for publishing this article are:

* You must leave the article and resource box unedited. You are not allowed to change the content of the article. Reformatting is permitted as necessary.

* You may not use this article in UCE (Unsolicited Commercial Email). Email distribution of this article MUST be opt-in email only.

* We ask that you forward a copy of the ezine or newsletter that contains the article inside to the Author at: MilesRuss@Gmail.com

* If you post this article on a website, you MUST set any URL's or Mailto addresses in the body of the article and most especially in the Author's Resource Box as hyperlinks. We request that you also send us a copy of the URL where you have posted this art icle.

If you utilize this article in a printed magazine, or on paper publication, please snail mail a copy in full to Russ Miles 410 W 13th Street #807 Vancouver, WA 98660.

If you find any of the rules to be unsavory or unacceptable, please do not publish this article. While we are happy to make the content available to you for your own use, we must insist on having our rules and *TerMs of Reprint* honored in full.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Russ Miles is the Author of the Novel, For Sale By Owners:FSBO. Seasoned Real Estate NAR Broker Disabled by Multiple Sclerosis, FOR SALE BY OWNERS:FSBO ISBN 0-595-28703-4,in trade paperback, is available by phone or Internet:1-800-Authors to order direct! Very HOTLINK Adobe e-book & hard cover editions also available FSBO at Amazon.com at Barnes and Noble and other fine booksellers.

Comments: MilesRuss@Gmail.com.

Personal referrals to his publisher

Autho r:: Russ Miles
Keywords:: Poetry,FSBO,Multiple Sclerosis,Disabled,Author, Russ Miles, MS,Realtor,Reborn,Beacon,Novel,Agent,Ali
Post by History of the Computer | Computer safety tips

I Was Not Looking

Sometimes, you find freinds, you did not know would teach you so much. You did not know, there were no road signs, that this person, this very person in front of you, was going to give you answers to Questions you did not even know were nagging, in your subconscience. Then, like opening a door, to vast resources, answers, feelings, things start to unfold. They may stay in your life, or they may just pass through, but our lives should be blessed by many such friends.

I was not looking
When I found you.
I did not know the Questions,
Yet, you knew the answers.
I had no true Measure
Of how lost I was-
When you helped me
Out of the Darkness.
I did not know
How really Sad I was-
Till you gave me Reasons to Smile.
I thought I was so strong
To hold back the Tears.
You showed me I was stronger still
To let the Sadness go.
I truly thought
Part of my soul had died.
You woke that part
Of me that was sleeping.
I thought I had
Nothing left to say.
Yet, you are always ready
To listen.
I did not see
How anxious I had become.
You helped me find
New ways to see joy.
I cam here
Full of hatred and anger.
And you taught me
The value of really letting go.
Id forgotten the true meaning
Of friendship.
When you helped
To set me straight.
Id almost given up
And thrown in the towel-
When you convinced me
I can still win!

4/12/03

About the Author:

Deborah Coss, has been writing since 8 years old, getting published off and on since 15, and finally realized her childhood dream, of carrying press credentials, working for http://www.womanmotorist.com A diverse writer, publishing several business type sites, she now publishes her own site, http://www.1kindthing.com, creates some fine arts, and loves photography, commenting she is a social portraiture photographer and prefers the medium of black and white.

In art, she has a very constructionist attitude, and enjoys making masks, and other 3 dimensional objects. On a personal side, she survived an extremly violent childhood, some serious trauma, including being crushed by a car at age 3 and half. Thus, her site 1kindthing.com, tells of overcoming hardships, in her many styles of writing. She is a baby boomer, raised in Southern California, bi-lingual in Spanish, descened from French, German, English and American Indian bloodlines. Coss finds words fun, and communication an art.

Author:: Deborah Coss
Keywords:: Deborah Coss, was not looking, Questions, Measure, helped me, Darkness, Sad, Reasons, Smile, Tears
Post by History of the Computer | Computer safety tips

My Mum

Mum
If you were to die
I havent seen you
To say goodbye.

I cant see you now
As no one is allowed
Hospital tests
Youre under a cloud.

If you had not seen
Your doctor today
You would already have been
Taken away.

What are you feeling?
As I sit here and write
Are you in pain?
Can you see a bright light?

Please dont die
Youve too much to do
Youre needed and Loved
Yes we all Love you.

Shes in the best place
Is what Ive been told
But thats only words
When your world is on hold.

I Love you Mum Please, please dont go Ill always look after you
This is promise you so.

Have a good rest now
Sleep but awake
Fight this pain
If only for your sake.

Take Care Mum, I Love you so much.
20/10/1992

I have been writing poetry for many years and regularly have it published in print. My poetry is published by Forward Press and in many other publications. So I'm now putting my poetry online. I publish my poetry on my Blog jo-hale-poetry at http://jo-hale-poetry.blogspot.com/ and on 8hop.com My poetry on 8hop.com. I also have information about my poetry at http://www.squidoo.com/jo-hale-poetry. I'm married to my husband Peter. I was born in May 1970 and am a Taurean star sign.

Author:: Joanne Hale
Keywords:: Mum, Mother, Illness, Worry, Hospital, Pray, Unwell, Bedside, Daughter, Love, Care, Caring, Life
Post by History of the Computer | Computer safety tips

"No Invasion Into My Head"

4/1/2004
Wake up and crawl out of my warm Bed.
Eyes dont want to open,
Brain dont want no Invasion into my Head.
You used to Laugh at me, you found it so Funny,
When I just felt my way around my House -
And you would say, Come on, just open your Eyes Honey!
The smell of Coffee necessary to start my day,
Turn on the TV, sip my Brew,
And try to get Connected in my own way.
Being close to you was almost as warm and good,
As staying in my cozy Bed,
And being next to you felt good, just the way it should.
But that was long ago and those days are long gone.
You know that now I wake up all alone.
Its not the same. Sometimes I wonder how I hang on.
But I make it just fine, through every single day,
I get past the aches I know so well -
And think about how you never meant to stay.
Its okay, and like I said, Ill always love you.
I have the memories to hold onto -
And I learned a lot about survival because of you.
So, I wake up every day, and crawl out of my warm Bed.
My Eyes still dont want to open,
Cuz my Brain dont want no Invasion into my Head

Deborah Coss, has been writting since 8 years old, getting published off and on since 15, and finally realized her child hood dream, of carrying press credentials, working for womanmotorist.com. A diverse writer, publishing several business type sites, she now publishes her own site, 1kindthing.com, creates some fine arts, and loves photography, commenting she is a social portraiture photographer and prefers the medium of black and white. In art, she has a very constructionist attitude, and enjoys making masks, and other 3 dimensional objects. On a personal side, she survived an extremly violent childhood, some serious trauma , including being crushed by a car at age 3 and half. Thus, her site 1kindthing.com, tells of overcoming hardships, in her many styles of writing. She is a baby boomer, raised in Southern California, bi-lingual in Spanish, descened from French, German, English and American Indian bloodlines. Coss finds words fun, and communication an art.

Author:: Deborah Coss
Keywords:: Deborah Coss, Invasion, Head, Bed, Eyes, Brain, Laugh, Funny, House, Honey, Coffee, Brew, Connected,
Post by History of the Computer | Computer safety tips

Discover Four Reasons Why Inspirational Poems Are Just Irresistible

It was just after noon when the young President's limousine made its way into a depository. He had stopped twice to shake hands with some nuns and school children. Suddenly, shots were fired; and at 1 p.m. President Kennedy was proclaimed dead.

Overnight, the number of Inspirational poetry written about the president and the assassination that were received by the press could make up a few volumes of books. The question is, why poetry? Why not other forms of writing? What do you gain from writing or even reading one?

Let's discover why Poems are just irresistible during time of confusion and hardships.

It makes you feel better inside.

When we experience difficult time in our lives, sometimes we say that words just couldn't express our feeling. That's exactly right if we 're trying to write a sentence or article. But not Poems. It gives you freedom to write in fragments. It let your emotions out, freely and easily.

If you look at some of the most famous poets, Inspirational verses that they write are almost related to their personal grief or difficult situation they experience.

Let's take Helen Rice. Well known as the poet laureate of Inspirational verses and famous for her motivational words, Helen Rice was writing those word of strength for her own self as well as for her readers. Those verses were written during the Great Depression when her rich young husband lost all hi s fortune in the stock market crash. Mounting debts forced Helen to work while her jobless and depressed husband lived in isolation and later committed suicide.

Her motivational and inspiring verses are words written not only to sooth the hearts of her readers but also to let go off the hardship that she felt inside. It was only through Poems that she could channeled her voice during the hard time. Those Poems actually made her feel good inside.

Inspirational Poems give you hope and faith If you know any ex-soldiers who had been to war, I'd like to ask you a favor. Go and talk to any one of them. And ask them if they knew any Poems. You'd be surprised if they tell you that they memorize several and had written a few.

Prisoners of wars (POW) are known to memorized Poems or write o ne during their hard time in war camps. Apart from religious verses, poetry is another form of written words that could give them hope. It keeps their faith and more importantly their sanity!

US prisoner of war at Vietnam was known to pass along a poem called Invictus by Earnest Henley for morale boost. Meaning unconquerable, the poem begins like this,

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

When you're deprived from the freedom of outside world and contact with your fellow colleague is limited, you need motivational words to strengthen your wills. Poems like Invictus are just what the doctor ordered.

It Heals Aching Hearts Nowadays, Poems are being used in a few hospitals around the world as a form of therapy. Similar to art therapy, the aim is to make patients feel more open in expressing their feelings. Difficult patients were said to be more approacha ble and showed improved attitude when they were enrolled in such programs.

Poetry therapy is a form of therapy to help heals aching hearts. It helps you get rid off burden from your chest. Overall, it makes you feel better!

Poems Touches Your Heart Can you tell me how many essays touch your heart? Yes, there might be a few that makes you wept but they are hardly memorable! But it's a different thing with Poems. It's easily memorable and makes you want top pass it along to friends.

I give you an example. Have you heard the poem called An Interview With God? This classic poem had touched the hearts of millions of people. The owner of a website that created a presentation of the poem had been able to distribute this poem to millions of people around the world just by word of mouth. The reason is simple - it touches peoples heart. The impact of the poem is so incredible that the site owner made multimillion dollars from products derived from the poem.

Ok ay, I understand your problem. Some Poems may make you dizzy, left you mentally tired and leaves nothing but a confused brain and tied tongue. But not all Poems are like that. Most Inspirational Poems by poets like Edgar Guest, Ella Wheeler Wilcox and Helen Rice are easily readable but still carry strong impact and have deep message embedded in them.

Unlike an essay where you have to be concern about your grammar and paragraph, you can just express yourself freely with Poems because it's just like your heart's intimate diary. If you can't write one, just read one. At this internet age, a quick search and a click of a button at the search engine is all you need to get an Inspirational poem in a snap. So, tarry no more. Let's go and read one right now!

Lela Iskandar Suhaimi is a young father who teaches high school math. If he's not lecturing his three-year old energized daughter, he updates a website on Poems - Inspirational Poems that is!.

Author:: Lela Iskandar
Keywords:: Poems,Inspirational poetry, Inspiration
Post by History of the Computer | Computer safety tips

Two Poems: "San Jeronimo Brook" & in English and Spanish

Fair Andes! Thy arms reach high

Of iron-woven solid stone
Thu art a condor to the sky

Of glory hidden in thy heart

So many paths, a maze of art

In thy old, Mantaro Valley

Where adobes, breathe and tremble
Beyond your rustic shadows

There lays the prettiest of brooks

Is my heart, within its stream!

My image deeply carved, rippled

In its undiluted shallow waters

Waiting, just waiting for me

As it opens up, opens up my soul

My rippled soul-searching-eyes!...

Note: Between Lima, Peru, and the Andes, and just beyond is the Mantaro Valley; therein, lays the area and village called San Jeronimo; tucked away within its foliage, and rustic background, is a brook, a stream that runs down form the mountains. It is a lazy and peaceful place. It glistens with the sun. What more can I say. #725 6/10/05

In Spanish

A las Montaas
[ o : Arroyo de San Jeronimo

hermosos Andes! tus brazos llegan alto.

De piedra tejida por hierro slido
tu eres un condor para el cielo

De gloria ocultada en tu corazn.

Tantos caminos, un arte de laberinto
En tu viejo, Valle del Mantaro

Donde los adobes, respiran y tiemblan
Ms all de sus sombras rsticas

All descansa el ms bonito de los arroyos

Est mi corazn, dentro de su corriente!
Mi imagen profundamente tallada, ondulada

En sus aguas no diluidas bajas

Esperando, solamente esperando por m

Asi como esto se abre, se abre mi alma

Mis ojos de examen de conciencia ondulados!...

Note: Entre Lima, Per, y los Andes, y solamente ms all est el Valle del Mantaro; all dentro descansa el area y el pueblo llamado San Jeronimo; metido dentro de su follaje, y el fondo rstico, es un arroyo, una corriente que corre hacia abajo de las montaas. Esto es un lugar placido y pacfico. Esto brilla con el sol. Que ms puede yo decir. *725 6/10/05

Fingers inside my Dream

Whos inside this dream of mine?
No stars, no orbits only pale dim light
A cold moon, with fleecy clouds

Death, death within a crimson dream
Shall I wakeup to find myself free? (or)
Closed in, stuck in this frozen dream?

to fine I was never where I thought
Nor exactly what I thought. I was
In this dream with fingers hanging

stinging, grabbing me in this dream;
Trying to wake me upto reality
To tell me, it was all a dream

(nowgood night)!

#726 6/11/05

In Spanish

Dedos dentro de mi Sueo

Quin est dentro de este sueo mio?
Ninguna estrella, ninguna rbita slo palidez de luz dbil Una luna fra,
con nubes lanudas-
Muerte, muerte dentro de un sueo carmes
despertar para encontrarme libre?
Metido, pegado en este sueo congelado ?
Para bien yo nunca estuve donde pens-
Ni exactamente lo que pens. Yo era
En este sueo con dedos prendidos....
hi riendome, agarrndome en este sueo;
tratando de despertarme a la realidad
Para decirme, era todo un sueo

(ahora...buenas noches)!

*726 6/11/

Author/Poet Dennis Siluk you can see his books on http://www.bn.com or http://www.amazon.com

Author:: Dennis Siluk
Keywords:: Poetry
Post by History of the Computer | Computer safety tips

Bored Again Christian: What to do to Make Life Fun for You!

Bored again Christian
What shall you do?
Play another Christian tune
Watch another movie
Maybe protest one too
Bored again Christian
What are you going to do?
Do some Christian chat
Mass email people
Irritate them like a gnat
Grumble about your government
Stand forth in Church
As if you're in cement
No guts to lift your hands and head
God, it's a miracle
If you can just get out of bed
To arrive to Church on time
It seems you lost your passion
A long time ago
Now it's just a religious show
Is it any wonder you are bored
If I were you
I'd be bored too!< br> Now let me tell you
What to do
Not that you have to
Because salvation
Is by grace through faith
Not of works
Lest any should boast
But who in heaven
Would to you make a toast?
Perhaps not most
Because you're sitting
On your God-given gifts
Though you have been armed
And fully equipped
To declare the truth with power
Set captives free by the hour
The demons of hell devour
And prodigals revive
Who have grown stale and sour.
Jesus died and rose from the dead
So you stop whining!
Now lift up your head
None at the judgment seat
Consider themselves gratefully dead
Unless sin's hold has been severed
The devil's grip fully broken
Their redemption acknowledged and spoken
Bought by the blood of Jesus
Liberating them from bondage and diseases.
Be not bored therefore
My religious friend
For Christ arose for you
To fight until the end
Not that you must Fight for the victory
But rather enforce the victory
Of His blood and cross
That you mighty go across
Into your promised land
Taking others by the hand
Leading them out of darkness
Happily into the light
That all soon might know
Jesus is the way, truth and the life.
This therefore is your mandate
It is your divine duty
Get fear and unbelief
Out of the way
Cripple the enemy
When you pray
Embrace the cause of Christ today
Do so and you'll never be bored
No, not another day!

Paul Davis is a worldwide professional speaker, minister and author of several books including Breakthrough for a Broken Heart; Stop Lusting & Start Living; and Holy Ghost Fire.

Paul is a life coach (relational & professional), creative consultant, humor being, adventurer, explorer, mediator, and liberator.

Paul's compassion for people & passion to travel has taken him to over 50 countries of the world where he has had a tremendous impact. Paul has served many in war-torn, impoverished and tsunami stricken regions of the earth. His organization Dream-Maker Ministries is building dreams, breaking limitations and reviving nations!

Paul's Breakthrough Seminars inspire, awaken, impregnate with purpose, impart the fire of desire, catapult people into a new level of self-awareness, facilitate destiny discovery and dream fulfillment.

Contact Paul to minister, speak at your event or for life coaching: RevivingNations@yahoo.com, 407-967-7553

Watch his powerful ministry videos below to see supernatural power flow. http://www.DreamMakerMinistries.com, http://www.CreativeCommunications.TV

Author:: Paul Davis
Keywords:: Bored-Again Christian: What to do to Make Life Fun for You!,God,Jesus,Spirituality,Religion,Church
Post by History of the Computer | Computer safety tips

I Kiss Your Shadow A Poem About The Early Death Of A Young Woman Part One

We all have a history that includes some Regret by a certain age. I think remembering that history is something to learn from. I know if you are reading this that you do too. Yesterday I could not stop crying, yet today because of those tears, hopefully, I will notice someone else's. We get busy though don't we? We fail to see and hear the lives around us as we continue on our own pathways. Blades of grass are crumbled beneath our feet. I wrote It is not I so many times because of Regret of course. We all hold ourselves in better esteem than someone who has missed an obvious a cry for help. I guess the goal is to do better 'today', to smell the rose sweeter in their honor.

It is not I
not in my soul nor heart.
I could not have missed your pitiful tear.
I saw you walk away,
after we spoke,
glances did not know.

I am a swan in spring
my wings deliver different outcomes.
Yesterday I missed the sunrise
but a swans song pro mises a following day.

Poor flower of mine
how did I miss your message?
Ohhh it was not I.

I wish so much to say
what I should have easily let go
had I known.
I have much to tell you
too late.

Ice blue tints missed thoughtfulness.
It was not I.

I need to go back and start over.
I could have planted flowers
we would both reminisce about tender beginnings
plan bouquets of caring
share emotions that would include possibilities.

continued on Part Two

--------------------------

Kathy Ostman-Magnusen
Fantasy Art Woman

I am a figurative artist and illustrator living in Hawaii. Most of my work is painted in oils. I also do sculpture. I illustrated for Hay House Inc.,Women Who Do Too Much CARDS taken from Anne Wilson Schaef's book. I also illustrated for Neil Davidson, who was considered for the Pulitzer Prize in feature writing, and several other publications. My paintings are collected worldwide.

In every single one of my paintings my objective is to 'know them'. To let character reveal their own vision or message. I am often astounded as their presence unfolds and I am met with who they are. I then realize that who 'they' are defines me as well. My hope is that my paintings & sculptures relate to you, and that legends of mermaids; whimsical angel pictures; and tooth fairies fantasies give you the message you need for your own heart and soul. http://www.kathysart.com and http://kathysart.blogspot.com

Author:: Kathy Ostman-Magnusen
Keywords:: Death.poem,poem about death, sad poem, Regret,Lord Byron,Suicide
Post by History of the Computer | Computer safety tips

Mayor Parraga San Jeronimo Peru: Appoints Siluk Poet Laureate In English and Spanish

On 23rd of January, 2006, Dennis L. Siluk, an American Poet, and writer of nine poetry books, who is married to a Peruvian wife was appointed by Resolution by the Mayor, Jesus Vargas Prraga, Poet Laureate of the City, for his work (and contribution) in promoting the Peruvian culture, and his city and country, to include the Mantaro Valley, beyond the Andes (which has about 1.5 million inhabitants), with the two books, Peruvian Poems, (on traditions and customs) and The Spell of the Andes, (pertaining to the mountains around the Mantaro Valley, Huancayo, and in particular the legend of Catalina Wanka, of San Jeronimo, and the Legend of the Laguna de Paca; awarded by the citys Mayor, Jesus Vargas Prraga (and with the office of the Secretary General).

Dennis has finished a new book, Poetic Images Out of Peru, (on the basic beauty of everyday life in Peru, from Lima, to Huancayo, to San Jeronimo, where he tells about the legendary Avelinos; which will go to press in th e following weeks and be available in English and Spanish, as are his Peruvian Verse in books; available in bookstores and on the many websites, like BN, Amazon, Alibis and Abe, etc; dedicated to the city and its Mayor.

He has also finished a chapbook, with two poems on the Mantaro Valley in it (most beautiful and sought after the day it came off the press), a limited edition to 50-copies, of which the adobe church, San Sebastian of San Jeronimo, 16th century is his art work put onto its cover (Dennis does most all his own art work, he took an award in l965, 2nd place as a St. Paul artist); a number of copies will be sent to the Mayor of San Jeronimo. This booklet is not for sale, and there are only nineteen copies left. The book is more of a complement to the city of Jeronimo, for recognizing his work.

He has also done a first book on: Poems Out of Minnesota, called Last Autumn and Winter, he lives in Minnesota and Peru, but as of this writing he will be, perh aps living in Peru, more than Minnesota, and getting dual citizenship, I hope.

[Articulo 1, Nombrar al escrito Norteamericano Dennis L. Siluk El Poeta Laureado DE LA Ciudad de San Jeronimo de Tuna. Por su invalorable apoyo cultural a nuestra tierra y por ende a nuestro pas; Encargar a la Oficina de Secretaria General hacer de corrimiento de la presente resolucin el connotado escritor Norteamericano Dennis L. Siluk

See Dennis' web site: http://dennissiluk.tripod.com

Author:: Dennis Siluk
Keywords:: Article/Poetry
Post by History of the Computer | Computer safety tips

The Panama Canal 2006 (The Big Ditch) A Poem with Commentary

[May 2006: Advance: After visiting the Panama Canal, to see its worth, on the world stage, seeing it four times in four days, from the locks to the Bridge of Americas, to the lakes, etc; spending hours each day at the locks, and islands thereabouts, and talking to the Panamanians. I wrote the following poem below, at the canal.

I was told this was the eighth wonder of the world, but then when I was in Haiti, in 1986, likewise I was told, their Citadel was the 8th Wonder of the world. I have traveled the world over, and perhaps we have nine wonders of the world, the Panama being perhaps number 1 to 3, and the Citadel number nine, and wed have to take one other wonder and put it into the missing category; the Panama Canal is really in a class of its own.

A wonder of the world it is
Equal to 6000-plus, war ships
Six pyramids by the Gaza strip.
With all its tunnels, and locks,
Dams, lakes, fifty-one miles of it;
Buildings, mess halls, bridges
Structures and more structures;
Spillways and much cartage;
Bulldozers, trainsten-years of it,

Building:

Excavations, constructions:
Like digging a big ditch, through
Mountains, valleys, lakesall
All I say, all immense, immense
With tons of cement and steel,
Between silt and mud; and two
Oceans between: obstacles
One after anotheryellow fever.

The Suez Canal is but a glimpse
Of this immense task, in Panama;
Unequal in every way, to its grandeur.

Afterwards: In building the canal, it took, ten years (by the Americans; the French, several); and cost $675-million dollars between France and America; 62,000-workers worked at any one time on the site (42,000 world die from disease, accidents, est.); the site being 51-miles long, and ten miles wide. There were three locks to build, a few dams, a lake or two, a mountain to blow up, and create a passageway through. The French sold the rights to build the canal to America for $40-million dollars, after they had failed in its completion, at a cost of $300-million. Today that price tag would be over 7-billion dollars. It took 1600-hundred pounds of gold to pay the works each month; or 24-tons of Silver. They had to produce five million loafs of bread, 100,000 pounds of cheese, 9-million pounds of meat, and 300,000 chickens each year to feed the hungry works. In addition, they had to use 150,000-gallions of mosquito oil. Its construction matter is equal to five Suez Canals. The material taken out of the Panama Canal would be equal to six large pyramids in Egypt. It was an immense task, perhaps the most perplexed since the landing on the moon; in all the history of mankind.

Note: Written in Panama, at the Canal, 5/24/06; #1360.

See Dennis' web site: http://dennissiluk.tripod.com

Author:: Dennis Siluk
Keywords:: Poetry and Commentary
Post by History of the Computer | Computer safety tips

Anne Bradstreet "To My Dear and Loving Husband" A Discussion

To My Dear and Loving Husband was written by Americas first female Poet, the Puritan, Anne Bradstreet. In fact, Anne Bradstreet is one of only a handful of female American Poets during the first 200 years of Americas history. After Bradstreet, one can list only Phillis Wheatley, the 18th century black female Poet, Emma Lazarus, the 19th century Poet whose famous words appear on the Statue of Liberty, and the 19th century Emily Dickinson, Americas most famous female Poet.

To My Dear and Loving Husband has several standard Poetic features. One is the two line rhyme scheme. Another is the anaphora, the repetition of a phrase, in t he first three lines. And a third is the popular iambic pentameter.

Iambic pentameter is characterized by an unrhymed line with five feet or accents. Each foot contains an unaccented syllable and an accented syllable, as in da Dah, da Dah, da Dah, da Dah, da Dah.

The subject of Anne Bradstreets love Poem is her professed love for her Husband. She praises him and asks the heavens to reward him for his love. The Poem is a touching display of love and affection and extraordinarily uncommon for the Puritan era of the Massachusetts Bay Colony in which Anne Bradstreet lived.

Puritan women were expected to be reserved, domestic, and subservient to their Husbands. They were not expected or allowed to exhibit their wit, charm, intelligence, or passion. John Winthrop, the Massachusetts governor, once remarked that women who exercised wit or intelligence were apt to go insane.

Anne Bradstreet was born Anne Dudley in 1612 in England. She married Simon Bradstreet when she was 16 and they both sailed with her family to America in 1630. The difficult, cold voyage to America took 3 months to complete. John Winthrop was also a passenger on the trip. The voyage landed in Boston and the passengers joined the Massachusetts Bay Colony.

The men in Anne Bradstreets family were managers and politicians. Both her father and her Husband became Massachusetts governors. Her Husband, Simon, often traveled for weeks throughout the colony as its administrator.

Anne Bradstreets Poem, To My Dear and Loving Husband, was a response to her Husbands absence.

Very little is known about Anne Bradstreets life in Massachusetts. There are not portraits of her and she does not even have a grave marker. She and her family moved several times, each time further away from Boston into the frontier. Anne and Simon had 8 children during a 10 year period, and all the children survived healthy and safe, a remarkable accomplishment considering the health and safety hazards of the period.

Anne Bradstreet was highly intelligent and largely self-educated. She took herself seriously as an intellectual and a Poet, reading widely in history, science, art, and literature. However, as a good Puritan woman, Bradstreet did not make her accomplishments public.

Bradstreet wrote Poetry for herself, family, and friends, never meaning to publish them. Consider that her friend, Anne Hutchinson was intellectual, educated and led womens prayer meetings where alternative religious beliefs were discussed. She was labeled a heretic and banished from the colony. Hutchinson eventually died in an Indian attack. Is it any wonder that Anne Bradstreet was hesitant to publish her Poetry and call attention to herself?

Anne Bradstreets early Poems were secretly taken by her brother-in-law to England and published in a small volume when she was 38. The volume sold well in England, but the Poems were not nearly as accomplished as her later works.

Bradstreets later works were not published during her lifetime. Her Poems about her love for her Husband were private and personal, meant to be shared with her family and friends group only.

Though her health was frequently a concern, especially during childbirth, Anne Bradstreet lived until 60 years of age.

Enjoy To My Dear and Loving Husband, a remarkable accomplishment.

To My Dear and Loving Husband

If ever two were one, then surely we.
If ever man were lov'd by wife, then thee;
If ever wife was happy in a man,
Compare with me ye women if you can.
I prize thy love more than whole Mines of gold,
Or all the riches that the East doth hold.
My love is such that Rivers cannot quench,
Nor ought but love from thee, give recompence.
Thy love is such I can no way repay,
The heavens reward thee manifold I pray.
Then while we live, in love let's so persever,
That when we live no more, we may live ever.

*****************************

Garry Gamber is a public school teacher and entrepreneur. He writes articles about real estate, health and nutrition, and internet dating services. He is the owner of http://www.Anchorage-Homes.com and http://www.TheDatingAdvisor.com.

Author:: Garry Gamber
Keywords:: AnneBradstreet, Bradstreet, Poet, Poem, Husband, dear and loving Husband
Post by History of the Computer | Computer safety tips

Can't Stop Thinking of You

Baby, I Love you!
Can't stop thinking of you!
Can't get enough of you!
Am continually blessed
When I'm with you!
Feel like I'm going crazy
When I'm without you.
Yet God always sees me through
And speedily gets me
Back to you.
I value nothing
More than you.
Nothing I have
Nor that which I do.
Heaven comes to earth
When I'm with you
I'm over the moon
Because of you
Everything about you
Genuine, passionate and true
Continually endears me to you
I just want to hold and kiss you
I experience eternal bliss
Beyond time when I'm with you
Stuck am I like super glue
Inseparable are we through and through
Your Love more nourishing than honeydew
Your milk makes me like a cow moo!
Intoxicating and invigorating
Is my Love for you
Entirely captivated
Am I for you
Whatever the reason
I can 't stop
Thinking of you
You continually come to mind
No matter the day or time
Despite reason and rhyme
Mentally fixated am I
On you
Not knowing what to do
I had to write you
And express my feelings
Yield to my inward leadings
Give way to my affections
Let the waves of emotions roll
Like a scribe on a scroll
Like a bird in the air
Like a child without care
Like a fish swimming in the water
Like a father for his daughter
Like a monkey at the zoo
Girl, I'm crazy for you!
I know not what to do
I can't stop thinking of you!

Paul Davis is Author of Breakthrough for a Broken Heart a book telling us How to overcome disappointments and blossom into your dreams! He is a Minister, life coach (relational & professional), dating expert, popular worldwide keynote speaker, creative consultant, humor being, adventurer, explorer, Mediator, liberator and dream-maker.

Paul's compassion for people & passion to travel has taken him to over 50 countries of the world where he has had a tremendous impact. Paul has also brought revival to many in war-torn, impoverished and tsunami stricken regions of the earth. His nonprofit organization Dream-Maker Ministries is building dreams and breaking limitations.

Paul's Breakthrough Seminars inspire, revive, awaken, impregnate with purpose, impart the fire of desire, catapult people into a new level of self-awareness, facilitate destiny discovery and dream fulfillment.

Paul can be contacted at: RevivingNations@yahoo.com 407-967-7553 or 407-282-1745

For additional info:
http://www.CreativeCommunications.TV
http://www.DreamMakerMinistries.com
http://www.BreakthroughSeminars.org

Author:: Paul Dav is
Keywords:: Love,Kisses,Romance,dating expert,Love doctor,life coach,keynote speaker,Minister,Author,Mediator
Post by History of the Computer | Computer safety tips

Looking Out the Rear Window

The funeral rite concluded
With the pastor shaking hands,
Offering words of comfort
I didn't quite understand.

The undertakers came forth
And summoned Pallbearers' four.
They marched beside the coffin
Carrying it steady toward the door.

I didn't cry or whimper
As I followed right behind.
But deep within I screamed
Don't leave O Mother of mine.

Please don't go to the Grave;
Let's chat just one more time.
Let's talk about the 'good old days'
Don't leave, O Mother of mine.

But onward moved the Casket
Down the stairs to the limousine;
With Mother laying incognizant
Of my agonizing scream.

As we rode toward the ossuary
Thoughts were swimming in my head;
Why didn't the whole world stop?
Didn't it know my Mother was dead?

But the world kept 'bout its business
And within I felt so sad,
'Cause my Mother didn't get the honor
I thought she should have had.

As we drove into the Cemetery
I knew it wouldn't be long,
Before I had to sing at last
My final farewell song.

I stood at the Gravesite
Grief festering in my breast:
Scriptures read, prayers prayed,
Mother committed to eternal rest.

Looking out the car's rear Window
As we mutely drove away;
I saw a heavenly Angel fly
To where my Mother lay.

Then I knew that all was well,
That Mother was just fine.
That I would live and grow and serve
Until, alas, my time.

Thank you Lord for reassuring me
That the Grave is not the end.
That Mother is patiently waiting for me
Just around life's toilsome bend.

But now there's work I must perform
That no one else can do;
Some hurting, aching souls to soothe,
Broken dream s to help renew.

And in the process of reaching out
To brighten someone's day;
I sense way deep within myself,
That I too will be okay.

Saundra L. Washington is the author of two coffee table books: Negative Disturbances, Homilies that Teach, and the book from which this poem is taken, Room Beneath the Snow, Poems that Preach. Looking out the Rear Window was written shortly following her Mother's Death. She can be contacted at: http://www.clergyservices4u.org

Author:: Saundra L. Washington
Keywords:: Grief,Mother,Death,Cemetery,Grave,Casket,Mother,Angel,Window,Pallbearers,
Post by History of the Computer | Computer safety tips

The Demon Inside

What is it about Bowling that makes it so exciting? Is it that distant grouping of soldier pins, so impudent and perfect? Is it their shape, so curvy and sensuous? Or perhaps they remind you of a street gang, daring you to hit them, standing out in the open, uncaring and brave.

No, it is the violence. Where else can you get rid of your secret mental urgings to strike back at your insidious foes, to smash them into smitherines for what they did to you? All the better that they can not strike back. You were the vulnerable one smitten when your back was turned, laid low by a sucker punch below the belt.

But, short of going to jail, there is no way for you to get even. If you did, you'd be just as bad as they. No, you're a lady and ladies do not hit back.

So, go ahead, take aim, disturb their sleep a little. Boy, that felt good. But, wait, suppose they have feelings, too? I never thought of that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ten pins standing at attention,
Quiv'ring at the slightest mention
Of that spherical black lightning --
Three eyes vacant, twisting, fright'ning.
With deadly aim it bursts asunder
Their peaceful stance and plows them under.
White bodies flying, crashing,
No mercy shown, no love, no caring.
One club is grazed and starts to topple,
But from the side a nasty pop'll
Send it spinning down the pike.
A voice is screaming, I got a strike!.
Resignation then sets in:
They get right up -- to fall again.

I write poetry for the masses. No death and grief for me. Let me know what you think.

Author:: Kenneth C. Hoffman
Keywords:: Bowling, Fantasy
Post by History of the Computer | Computer safety tips

How to Write a Haiku the Easy Way!

So, you want to write a Haiku poem? Some think it's very easy to do. After all, it's only 3 short lines. But if you want to write a Haiku, you need to know the basics. Let's get started!

First of all, forget about the 5-7-5 syllable rule. Modern Haiku poets here in the west rarely use it. The Japanese used it because their language somehow fit it quite nicely. Fortunately for us, we don't have to think about how to fit what we want to say into a certain number of syllables.

What's important when writing a Haiku is to understand the Haiku spirit and basically, this really has to do with looking at things in nature with reverence. To understand that the beating wings of a humming bird is a small miracle itself is to begin to understand Haiku for it seeks to capture the small things and make them big.

Now we can look at a certain technique I like to call macro-micro technique. Basically, this is when the first part of the Haiku poem, the fragment, takes a ma cro view of the world. For instance, if we begin a Haiku with something like this: winter twilight, we've established the background or mood of the Haiku... the macro view.

Now what we want is a present tense phrase that contributes some detail of something that is happening now. It doesn't have to be sophisticated and there's no need to search for something. The best Haiku use simple direct language to describe things. For example, if we were to create a phrase like: ice crystals hang off the pine, what we have just done is composed a micro view of something that is specific and can be described visually. Now the finished Haiku would look something like this:

winter twilight --
ice crystals
hang off the pine

You'll notice that I broke this poem into 3 lines. The first line is the fragment or macro view. Lines 2 and 3 consist of the phrase. How you break the phrase up into lines 2 and 3 is purely an aesthetic choice best left to the poet.

But if you look at Haiku composition as macro and micro, it will help you to write a Haiku the easy way!

Edward Weiss is a poet, author, and publisher of Wisteria Press. He has been helping students learn how to write Haiku for many years and has just released his first book Seashore Haiku! Sign up for free daily Haiku and get beautiful Haiku Poems in your inbox each morning! Visit http://www.wisteriapress.com for Haiku books, lessons, articles, and more!

Author:: Edward A. Weiss
Keywords:: Haiku,writing Haiku,Haiku Poems,Haiku Poetry,Poems,Poetry
Post by History of the Computer | Comp uter safety tips

The Legend of Mummy Mountain & The Parrots of the Andes

5) The Legend of: Mummy Mountain

(De Per: Valle del Mantaro))

Advance: in the Valle del Mantaro by Huancayo, Peru there resides three enchanting sites, where all seem to be tucked away together (in the area of Chupaca/Ahuac): Here resides Laguna Nahuinpuquio (where legends have come and gone, some forgotten), and the 9th Century (800-1400 AD Wanka site) Ruinas De Arwatuno, overlooking the valley below and the Laguna. But there is a third legend, almost forgotten, it would seem hidden from the minds of the youth of the area today, but not from a few old timers: the legend of Mummy Mountain (that resides nearby, and can be seen with the naked eye from any location thereby), a tall tale possibly, or perhaps as true as the mountain itselffor it looks its name. I will leave that for your imagination to deliberate and make a decision on, I can only tell what I have heard, and so I shall tell it to you:

In the year 825 AD, there was a great man by the name o f Uraurampi, who appeared in the valley, and brought with him his faith in a god called Tunanmaca. The valley was rich with rain and here he founded the Wanka culture. But in time he knew he would pass on (as Tunanmaca had told him, To each man, a time and place is assigned him to die), and so he skilled all his sons in the art of warfare lest some foe take this rich valley away from them.

He lived to a ripe old age, and before he died he asked Tunanmaca a favor,

Take my body; make it into a mummy, place it so I can watch over my people and land.

And the favor was granted. And thus, as the years passed, the landscape changed, where his people buried him, into a hung mountain sculptured into what looks like a resting body, one resembling a mummy.

And so the legend ends with these final words: should there be war to where Uraurampis people need him, they need simply awake him, and he will make the earth tremble and swallow the rival.

Afterward: T oday standing below the old ruins, perhaps the very ones his sons built (Arwaturo) one can see this Mummy shaped mountain, and with rain clouds, its silhouette even more so; it is not hard to realize (without a doubt) why it is called, Mummy Montana.

Note: written after leaving the archeological site, about 35-minutes ride from Huancayo, Peru (in the Andes) 8-13-2006, No: 1424.

6) Los Loros (parrots) de Andes

(De Per)

During the time of harvest

Parrots (loros) of the Sierras

Search high and low for food

Like hungry children of the Devil

They flyhundreds of them

(Like a swarming plague, in packs)

Through mountainous passages

Into villages looking for corn,

Wheat, grains, fruits, foods!

Always in a group, never alone,

They echo their noisy voices

Unto the high heavens,

Like a dark overlooking cloud.

Now, overlooking the farmers fields,

In the clap of an eye, they theyv e eaten

Every trace of corn, every crumb of wheat

Every seed of grain, planted by the farmers

Leaving only tears and pain!

And the youth of the land

(Early in the morning they wake

And wait, anticipate,

Wishing to save the harvest)

Grab slingshot, rock and hand

Trying to kill the ascending foe

In the wheat and cornfields.

But lo, the Loros are keen and swift,

They hide in trees and bushes,

Wait for the youth to fall to sleep:

And with wit, and yellow beaks,

Green wings and red necklaces

They eat everything!

Note: No: 1423, 8-14-2006 (Written while in the city of Huancayo, Peru, in the Andes)

See Dennis' web site: http://dennissiluk.tripod.com

Author:: Dennis Siluk
Keywords:: Poetry
Post by History of the Computer | Computer safety tips

Coffee House Poet (a poem)

(Written at the Coffee House)

Here is where I meet my friends,
have long conversations; glances,
cant remember all their names
(all the time) my coffee cup often jumps,
when they come by, breaking up the
moment of my concentration.

Women want to borrow chairsoften
around my table; Im a regular here;
everyday until-night, from three to almost
midnight writing, reading, drawing,
its what I do, Im a poet.

Threes the professor, from the U of M;
and Johannes, a poet and friend; and
then, there is Papa Bear, he works at
the Airlines, worried, Northwest, is
going out of business

And then there is Gene, he likes erotica;
and Kathy, shes a Faulkner fan; and
Royce, a lawyer, he has no real choice;
and Mathew, hes a writer of songs, and
music

And then there is Janet, shes loves the
word of God; and Michelle, she likes the
law also; and theres Cindy W., a poet
who loves Plath , and Gary and Sue, book
lovers too, and me, a plain poet.

I have learned much from all my friends,
at the Coffee House, at the B & N, in
Rosevilleand that we all love to inhale
the odor of Coffee, books and conversation;
I think fate has brought us here; Amen!

Dedicated to my friends at the Coffee House; #1257 3/2/06 revised 2/5/06

See Dennis' web site: http://dennissiluk.tripod.com

Author:: Dennis Siluk
Keywords:: Poetry
Post by History of the Computer | Computer safety tips

URL Not Found

Author::
Keywords::
Post by History of the Computer | Computer safety tips

Susan

By blood we are Sisters
By actions, we are not
Any Feelings we might have shared
Were soon to be forgot.

You turned your back on us
For which, I cannot forgive
Your Husbands Family is your life
Is that REALLY how you want to live?

Time progressed
And five years passed
You missed out on many things
When did you chat with me last?

Sisters should be close
Its what the definition says
Im closer to my dog than to you
We understand each-others ways.

I wish I had a brother
All my life I have thought this
He would protect me against harm
Wed fight then hed give me a kiss.

You dont know what youre missing
By turning your back on me
Susan its your loss
Maybe in time you will see.

But dont think you will change things
Ill always remember what you did
I may think of you, and have Feelings too
But Ive shut them away, in a box with a lid.

< br> 19/04/1992

I have been writing poetry for many years and regularly have it published in print. My poetry is published by Forward Press and in many other publications. So I'm now putting my poetry online.

I publish my poetry on my Blog jo-hale-poetry at http://jo-hale-poetry.blogspot.com/ and on 8hop.com My poetry on 8hop.com. I also have information about my poetry at http://www.squidoo.com/jo-hale-poetry. I'm married to my husband Peter.

Author:: Joanne Hale
Keywords:: Sisters, Family, Ties, Argument, Conflict, Sister, Feelings, Estrangement, Disagreement, Argument
Post by History of the Computer | Computer safety tips

Love Endures All Things

Love endures all things

When adversity comes

Not everybody sings

Sometimes life is painful

It even bruises and stings

Many care not to discuss

Such pragmatic things

Certainly when there is no

Cinching, moola or dinero

This is when fair weather Friends

Get up and go.

Love however is more

Than a feeling or an emotion

Indeed love stimulates the senses

Even to the extent

Of removing common sense

As it should

Nevertheless sometimes

This is not good

Because puppy love

Can be a bit premature

Time is the only cure

By which it is tested

By other's allure

Making known then to you

If you can be certain and sure

Because infatuation if fast

Much like a blur

Undoubtedly love

Can be felt, seen and heard

Yet love is also

Far greater than a word

Love is immeasurable

I has ability like no other

To move you

Or make you stammer and stutter

Love Hopes

When all Hope has been lost

Love does not consider cost

Love believes the best

Fights for what is right

And settles for nothing less

Love is timeless

It has no end

It has power to reconcile

And make Friends

Love is Heavenly

Love is divine

Yet it is a word

Used too frivolously

Most of the time

To describe food and wine

Perhaps a hobby or activity

On the contrary

Love is a bond

Between you and me

Impossible to fully describe

The grandeur of love

For it I'd give all my goods

And think nothing of

I know it well

Adequately articulate it

I cannot

Without it

Life is utter rot

Yet this love

My Heart has definitely got.

Paul Davis is a life coach (relational & professional), traveling minister and fitness trainer. Paul is the author of several books including Breakthrough for a Broken Heart; Stop Lusting; and God vs. Religion.

Paul is a popular worldwide keynote speaker, creative consultant, humor being, explorer, mediator, minister, liberator and dream-maker.

Paul's compassion for people & passion to travel has taken him to over 50 countries of the world where he has had a tremendous impact. Paul has also brought revival to many in war-torn, impoverished and tsunami stricken regions of the earth. His nonprofit organization Dream-Maker Ministries is building dreams and breaking limitations.

Paul's Breakthrough Seminars inspire, revive, awaken, impregn ate with purpose, impart the fire of desire, catapult people into a new level of self-awareness, facilitate destiny discovery and dream fulfillment.

Contact Paul to minister, speak at your event or for life coaching: RevivingNations@yahoo.com 407-967-7553.

For additional info: http://www.DreamMakerMinistries.com, http://www.CreativeCommunications.TV

Author:: Paul Davis
Keywords:: love endures all things,Hope,Faith,God,Romance,Commitment,Charity,Heaven,Jesus,Religion,Friend,Heart
Post by History of the Computer | Computer safety tips

Love and Live Wholeheartedly

Live WholeHeartedly
Love with Transparency
Give lovingly, never grudgingly
Feel and speak with sincerity
Emotionally allow for vulnerability
Love consistently
Embrace Life's seasons wisely
Learning the lessons
The Creator has for thee
As you grow personally
Become self-aware increasingly
Face your fears boldly
Overcome your weaknesses triumphantly
When you err and fail
Confess your flaws humbly
Pray for heaven's mercy
Realizing that Love endures all things
When adversity comes
Not everybody sings
Sometimes Life is painful
It even bruises and stings
Many care not to discuss
Such pragmatic things
Love however is more
Than a feeling or an emotion
Infatuation is fast
Much like a blur
Undoubtedly Love does similarly stir
It too can be felt, seen, and heard
Yet Love is also far greater
Beyond that of a word
Love is immeasurable
It has ability like no ot her
To move you or make you
Love hopes when all hope is lost
Love does not consider the cost
Love believes the best
Love fights for what is right
And settles for nothing less
Such a divine Love is timeless
It has no end
Love has power to reconcile
Win enemies and make friends
Love is heavenly
The word however is used too frivolously
Sometimes to describe food and wine
Perhaps a hobby or activity
On the contrary
Love is a bond
Between you and me
Impossible to fully describe
Adequately articulate it I cannot
Yet without enduring Love
Life is utter rot
Unpredictable and illusory
Enduring Love comes with commitment
It settles and sets you free
Enabling you to Live WholeHeartedly.

Paul Davis is a Life coach (relational & professional), traveling minister and fitness trainer. Paul is the author of several books including Breakthrough for a Broken Heart; and God vs. Religion. Paul is a popular worldwide keynote speaker, creative consultant, humor being, adventurer, explorer, mediator, minister, liberator and dream-maker.

Paul's comPassion for people & Passion to travel has taken him to over 50 countries of the world where he has had a tremendous impact. Paul has served in many war-torn, impoverished and tsunami stricken regions of the earth. His nonprofit organization Dream-Maker Ministries is building dreams, breaking limitations and reviving nations.

Paul's Breakthrough Seminars inspire, revive, awaken, impregnate with purpose, impart the fire of desire, catapult peopl e into a new level of self-awareness, facilitate destiny discovery and dream fulfillment.

Contact Paul to minister, speak at your event or for Life coaching: RevivingNations@yahoo.com, 407-967-7553.

For additional info: http://www.DreamMakerMinistries.com, http://www.CreativeCommunications.TV

Author:: Paul Davis
Keywords:: Love,Live,Life,WholeHeartedly,Transparency,Honesty,Truth,Passion,personal power,Heart,Breakthrough
Post by History of the Computer | Computer safety tips

Getting Your Words Out: Winning Free Poetry Contests

There are two types of poets in the world. The first are those that will take the time to develop their poems, submit them to different areas, and work on every word. Then, there are poets who will write a poem, stick it in their dresser, only to find it five years later and reminisce about the reasoning behind writing the poem.

In one way or another, everyone is like both poets. However, it is up to you to decide, which poet are you going to be?

If you are going to be the kind that believes in your Poetry and knows that there is a place out there for your words to be heard, you have to begin to find the proper places for your Poe try. One of the easiest places to go in order to let others read your enlightened words is through Poetry contests. There are a variety of free Poetry contests you can join in order to let others see what you have to say.

Many poets will cringe at the idea of entering a free Poetry contest in order to let others read their Poetry. However, most poets who become successful know that this is one of the places to start at. It leads to more commitment to your work, better submissions, and a continuous pattern of producing and publishing your Poetry.

If you dont know where to start with free Poetry contests, it is as simple as sitting down for thirty minutes one day and searching for free Poetry contests. You can find them in magazines, Internet porta ls, and even through other poets.

One thing that you might want to keep in mind with the free Poetry contests is where you decide to submit them. Often times, poets will concentrate on the popular and well known Poetry contests. A favourite of every poet is entering a Poetry contest for free that offers cash in return. Beyond this; however, you want to find something that is going to reflect your poem properly. Even though it is a contest, it still is your name on the top.

One way to approach Poetry contests is to find ones that are a particular genre, style or even are limited to age groups. Most who run contests know that poets are everywhere, and are always competing to get published. Because this is a factor, they have limited contests to age groups, styles and even poem genres. For instance, if you have a piece that is inspiration based, dont waste your time sending it to a nature magazine. Find a free Christian Poetry contest instead.

If you are a poet that likes the push of the envelope, you can go even further. Why not join contests that you know you can win? It is impor tant to find contests that are off the beaten path and that arent as popular. You will have a better chance of building your acceptance portfolio for contests.

It is up to you to get the poems out of your dresser and to get your word heard. Beginning with free Poetry contests is an easy way to succeed. If you ever feel hesitation, just stop and ask yourself; what kind of poet am I?

By Bob Burnham Owner of BurnMac Services and Author of 'How To Make A Million Dollars in Your Home Service Business'.

For more information Click: Free Poetry Contest

Learn How to Write A Book in 14 Days go to: Expert Author Publishing

Author:: Bob Burnham
Keywords:: free Poetry contest, how to publish a book, cook book publishing, self publishing book, publishing c
Post by History of the Computer | Computer safety tips

Black Magic Angels Poetic Prose: Unveiled Aquarius

The signs and signatures, the stars and scriptures, referring: all point to the heavens; for this, the planet lives (as it breathes, breeds, and bleeds)) Blessed be to the Kingdoms honor for suddenly)); for the world and for the luminaries (the far off leading lights): it is a call for the holy, angels to take vengeance

Herein, you find the supreme council of the dead, all matters confidential, no legal titles, no membership, no request, it is the order of the veiled (in the time of Aquarius): Black Magic Angels.

Angelsthe Archetypal world has come to its ameba, the world of materialisms (postulationswill be nil: the tables of time: one for the soul (three verses in one: the soul spirit, its purity, and its mediator); one being immortal by renewal (do not destroy its forms, lest his evolution be dissolved; and it be residue in some unsacred halls

Here this soul resides with open eyes: water, a circle white, and a scarab, blocking his sight. He will not f orget he has his veil, his body, and his shroud of purity. Michael the good angel stands nearby; his size, dominating, uninfluenced by the bad aspirations of evil and man; Samael, is nearby, the Evil Spirit with the staring eye: the spirits that linger in the soul (or in close proximity).

Man has known good and evil intents, endeavors: should he try to explain why, his mind changes: from pure emanations to deteriorate into negative qualities (Samael the Evil one is close at hand: with his scornful man, and plan).

Samael has said: these are the latter times, that his kind must work on the inscrutable [sphinx-like minds height: wisdom, intelligence, love, justice, beauty, firmness, splendor, righteousness and material righteousness! It is the foundation of the material world. The importance will manifest itself when the might of the right unties the bundle: (oh) MIGHTY One He sands Immune, proud (Blessed be His kingdoms honor for evermore:)

And the names of the dark angels were aligned according to the four heavens (a table of sorts) and the echoes came with (72-deaths): 72-Angels: 18-belonged to the Archetypal world; 17-belonged to the world of creation; and 17-to the world of foundation and the rest the rest: to the material world. These were the Black Magic Angels, related to the order of demons.

And here the Arch Devil Belphegor has dominionand Archangel Michael stands by, and His array of angels.

Scrolls buried: vagaries, capricious scriptures translated in Aquarius time, another story to be told soon with more understandable light; But for now, the angels had taught man to be astrologers: to read the signs, to mean, as they are seen in the Zodiac, not for the planets or stars, or luminaries, but scripture referring to the signs in the heavens (to know when He was coming)) perhaps)). And Michael heard the people cry: Please Hero, guard us closely, knowing the signs, meant the end of this eras time: rightfulne ss and mercies for the world; for it was the time of: Vehu, Yeli, Sit, Aulemand sixty-eight more rulers, who ruled the worlds throughout!

#1345 5/10/06

See Dennis' web site: http://dennissiluk.tripod.com

Author:: Dennis Siluk
Keywords:: Poetry
Post by History of the Computer | Computer safety tips

The Goat and the Rope a Poem: in Spanish and English

The Goat and the Rope

where there were devils I saw none.
nothing. the air is hot. milky substance.
I am and we are looking at this deep.
souls lost. we are looking at this terrain.
the moon is dead. over my head. like
a shadowy curtain. hanging. most of
the kings in westminister abbey are
here. all the rest of us are on the hill.
no ice-cream down here. we are the
discarded. the seduced. most of us slept
through our earthly lives. theyre still
sleeping through the whole thing. like
a fat cat rolling over for mama. pass out
the beer. slide one under the door. Use
the bible for wrapping paper. once youre
dead, youre dead. woooo. here comes
the torture. give me chloroform. quick.
I am dead. but something tells me Ill still
feel it. there are no carcasses down here.
only the feathered weird. they move their
wings like crippled wasps. they sweat
like a bull snorts. they seem sat isfied.
theyve been in the dark way too long.

they walk noble. naked. like jungle
rats. civilized with stench. a black hawk
is over head. its turned about. looks
like an albino now. I wish I wish I had a
helicopter. here comes the torture. give
me chloroform. a shot of whisky will do.
crippled wasps get out of my way. slide
one under the door. please. first time I
ever said that. cat rolling over. where
there were devils I saw none. wish I had
a helicopter. I wonder if sex is part of
the dead program. I think I lost the goat
and the rope.

#816 8/27/2005

In Spanish Translated by Nancy Penaloza

La soga y la Cabra

Donde all hubo diablos yo no vi ninguno.

Nada. El aire est caliente. Sustancia lechosa. Yo estoy y estamos mirando esto profundo.

El alma perdida. Estamos mirando a este terreno.

La luna est muerta. Sobre mi cabeza. Como Una cortina vaga. Colgando. La mayor parte

De los reyes en la abada de los ministros del oeste

Estn aqu. Todo el resto de nosotros est sobre la colina.

Ningn helado aqu abajo. Somos los desechados.

Los seducidos. La mayor parte de nosotros dormidos A travs de nuestras vidas terrenales. Ellos todava Duermen a travs de todo esto. Como un pez gordo

Dando vueltas por mam muerta.

La cerveza. Deslice una bajo la puerta. Use La Biblia para el papel de envolver. Una vez que usted Est muerto, usted est muerto. Woooo. Aqu viene

La tortura. Dme el cloroformo. Rpido. Estoy muerto. Pero algo me dice que todava Lo sentir. No hay ningn cuidado aqu abajo Slo, el con plumas extrao. Ellos mueven sus Alas como avispas tullidas. Ellos sudan Como un resoplido de toro. Ellos parecen satisfechos.

Ellos han estado en el camino oscuro demasiado tiempo.

Ellos andan nobles. Desnudos. Como ratas De la selva. Civilizados con hedor. Un halcn negro Esta sobre la cabeza. E ste esta dando vuelta. Parece a Un albino ahora. Deseo, deseo que yo tuviera un Helicptero. Aqu viene la tortura. Dme El cloroformo. Un tiro de gisqui lo har. Avispas tullidas fuera de mi camino. Deslcese Una bajo la puerta. Por favor. La primera vez Alguna vez dije esto. Gato dando vueltas. Donde

Haba diablos yo no vi ninguno. Deseo que yo tuviera Un helicptero. Me pregunto si el sexo es parte del Programa muerto. Pienso que perd la soga y la cabra.

*816 8/27/2005

See Mr. Siluk's books at http://www.amazon.com

Author:: Dennis Siluk
Keywords:: Poetry
Post by History of the Computer | Computer safety tips

Deep Waters 4/6/2004

I was a member of a writers blog site and the members used to challange each other with many ways of making us stretch, to think outside of the box, and to come up with new material, based on introspection or observances that had never before come to fruition in our works of words. Here is the poem I wrote in response to my worest Fears.

Deep Waters 4/6/2004
The water rises above my head,
As I sink to the bottom.
I see sunLight fading away;
The water around me is getting darker.
I see people swimming above me,
The refractions and Light, making the surface,
Look like a shattered mirror in motion.
Sounds fade away like;
They are at the other end of a very long tunnel.
I cant breath. And I cant swim.
My arms reach up towards sun & air,
But there is nothing to save me.
It seems like slow motion,
How far will I slide till I hit bottom,
And what then?
I did not see my life flash before my eyes
I was only three not much of a life to flash.
It was like the asthma I was born with,
Suddenly robbed of my air!
But always before there had been hands,
And people grabbing me, carrying me,
And trying to attend to my needs.
Here at the bottom of the lake, I am alone.
And I am cold. But I am oddly serene.
I am Drowning.
3/17/2004

Deborah Coss of 1kindthing.com remembers an early childhood drowing she survived!

Author:: Deborah Coss
Keywords:: Deborah Coss, Waters, Fear, sunLight fading, Light, Drowning
Post by History of the Computer | Computer safety tips

By Being Simply You

You make my heart sing an ancient Love song,
And I know that with you is where I belong.

Your sweet gentle touch sends thrills my body over,
No one else in this world could ever be my Lover.

Your strong arms around me, shielding from all harm,
Darling, no man possesses one-tenth of your charm.

All the wrongs in my life you transmuted into right,
And all the darkness in life has suddenly turned bright.

The tender warmth of true Love, in me you revive,
Feelings once dead have come back alive.

Your essense is as Lovely as the graceful yellow rose,
With you I find the solace of romantic repose.

As long as I live; until the day I expire,
You will always remain my only desire.

The Love that I have and the feelings of joy,
No power on earth could ever destroy.

As I appreciate the elegance and beauty of each flower,
So I cherish you honey, each moment of every hour.

The surge of the great waters in the Pacific Ocean,
Doesn't compare to your stirring of my loving emotions.

Emotions, once damaged and resolutely inert,
Suppressed an d repressed to avoid further hurt,

Dear heart, these emotions you have somehow unleashed,
And all the Love I have for you will never decrease.

To a woman who through life had only been drifting,
Your devotion and passion has been truly uplifting.

So I have no ambition, no goals or endeavors,
Except to Love and prize you, now and forever.

And know that there's nothing you ever had to do.
You won my Love honey, by being simply you.

Rev. Sau ndra L. Washington, D.D., is an ordained clergywoman, veteran social worker, and Founder of AMEN Ministries. She is also the author of two coffee table books: Room Beneath the Snow: Poems that Preach and Negative Disturbances: Homilies that Teach which can be reviewed on her site. Her new book, Out of Deep Waters: My Grief Management Workbook, though delayed in publication, is expected to be available early 2006.

You have an open invitation to visit us at AMEN Ministries: Your Soul's Service Station for reviewing spiritual services being offered, obtain spiritual refreshing and soul edification, get your daily dose of humor, browse our newly expanded Stop & Shop Store and to visit our prayer sanctum for quiet time with God.

Blessings to all!

Author:: Saundra L. Washington
Keywords:: Poetry,Poem,Love,
Post by History of the Computer | Computer safety tips

Ode To Quetzalcoatal Now in Spanish and English

Ode to Quetzalcatl

Quetzalcatl the Great

No one knew his true name, so they Called him Quetzalcatlfeather Serpent He and his crew of nineteen: faces Strange faces, images of a prince, a lord: King of the Yucatan in the year 986 AD

He was a tall man; long cloths, sandals; White as day, with a long beard, black hair. Some say red: some dont say But they called him priest, Lord, king Amongst many things: god!...

Quetzalcatls Life

Quetzalcatl, warrior of the Maya, God-king of the Astecaflanked By serpents; feared by kings; The god of the cometbearer Possessor of the wooden cross

Serpent of the Yucatan, chief of The Tula; wizardconquered by A wizard; fled to Cholulla! Twenty Years he nurtured his disciples: The sons of the sun, then

Then, those who loved vice and evil, Followed himrestrained his name, Planted evil seeds; castrated his Virtues; pronounced him warlock: The drunken-witch of Cholulla!

And so it was

Quetza lcatl-Cortes

War, iron, swords, white chalky faces Yellow hair, beardslong beards They came to Mexico, these Spaniards Hernn Cortsfor treasures [1519 AD Treasures of Motecuhzoma

These chalky face-ed-men with beards Had gunpowder, cannons, crossbows, Cavalry, steel swords and a lust for gold, Gold from Motecuhzoma in Tenochtitln The Ancient City of the Gods

Off the coast appeared the ship of Juan de Grijalva; so spoke the commoner Of this floating mountain in the sea; With disbelief, Motecuhzoma sent two Of his best men: officials to investigate

In dismay, Motecuhzoma of Tenochtitln Had little to say, of the nearing towers As he peered from a hill looking down Down and out into the green naked sea; Now the gifts were laid at Quetzalcatl feet

As the fleet of Corts appeared: Who were these strangers, bellowed Motecuhzoma, thinking it was the great God Quetzalcatl returning as predicted (in the Nahua year ce acatl ((1-Reed)).

Thus came a comet falling from the sky As Motecuhzoma watched it from his Palace in Tenochtitln, mumbled that This is a sign, of Quetzalcatl the divine. This was war, or submission to fate.

Motecuhzoma gave them gifts of food, Gold, bribes: so the ships would leave, Go away, never to return to this humid Mosquito-ridden Aztec coast; Thus, out of his gluttony-greed for gold Cortes burned his ships, his mates hope

then marched and reached Jalapa Pulling cannons all the wayacross The Tlaxcala frontier, a nation-state Independent of Motecuhzoma Hence, Cortes offered them peace.

An ally was secured for Cortes, the Greedy Spaniards: and the Talxcaltecas; Thus, soon to follow was destruction of The great city of Tenochtitln City of the Gods, City of the Dead!!

Who are these white cruel gods? Asked the stirring Nahuas These corrupted gods from the sea? Quetzalcatls decedents, perhaps? More corrupt than Motecuhzoma

Moving to Cholulla, the ancient city Of Quet zalcatl, they had a feast The long-beards and the Nahuas; Thus, the Nahuas were deceived Unarmed, and butchered like rat meat.

And so the journey of Cortes continued Towards Tenochtitln, past the Great Volcano, to its causeway, to the city Down the Street of the Dead---

Decedents of Quetzalcatl

Cortes men, Decedents of Quetzalcatl So the great ruler Motecuhzoma believed: Allowed him to be captured by the foe, The Ambassadors of the cruel, for the sake Of prophecyand so it was!

Now a prisoner and a puppet of Cortes Controlled by Spanish strings Quetzalcatl-Cortes bestowed many Cruelties on the city Tenochtitln And on the dying Aztec king

Motecuhzoma died by a grieving stone, Of his people; some say, by Cortes knife; Expelled by the Aztecs at Tenochtitln Shattered in defeat, the Spaniards left But only to return another day .

Note: #690 5/29/2005

In Spanish Translated by Nancy Penaloza Edited by Rosa Penaloza

Oda para Quetzalca tl

Aqu, amable lector, es lo que he descubierto gracias a investigacin histrica.

Quetzalcatl el Grande

Nadie saba su verdadero nombre, as ellos lo llamaban Quetzalcatl-Serpiente Emplumada l y su tripulacin de diecinueve: caras Caras extraas, imgenes de un prncipe, un seor: Rey del Yucatn en el ao 986 Despus de Cristo.

l era un hombre alto; tnica, sandalias; Blanco como el da, con una barba larga, pelo negro. Unos dicen rojo: otros no lo dicen Pero ellos le llamaron Sacerdote, Seor, Rey Entre muchas cosas: dios!...

La vida de Quetzalcatl

Quetzalcatl, guerrero de los Mayas, Dios-Rey- de los Aztecas-rodeado Por serpientes; temido por reyes; El dios del cometaportador Poseedor de la cruz de madera

Serpiente de Yucatn, jefe de La Tula; mago conquistado por Un mago; huy a Cholulla! Veinte aos l nutri a sus discpulos: Los hijos del sol, entonces

Entonces, aquellos que gustaron vicio y mal, lo siguieronconteniendo su nombre, Plantaron semillas malas; castraron sus Virtudes ; declarndolo a l, brujo: El brujo borracho de Cholulla!

Y entonces as fue .

Quetzalcatl-Corts

Guerra, hierro, espadas, caras blancas blanquecinas Pelo amarillo, barbas-barbas largas. Ellos vinieron a Mxico, estos espaoles Hernn Corts-por tesoros [1519 Despus de Cristo Los tesoros de Moctezuma

Estos hombres con cara blanquecina y barbas Tenan plvora, caones, ballestas, Caballera, espadas de acero y una lujuria por el oro, Oro de Moctezuma en Tenochtitln La Ciudad Antigua de Dios

De la costa apareci el barco de Juan de Grijalva; entonces habl el plebeyo De esta montaa flotante en el mar-; Con incredulidad, Moctezuma envi dos De sus mejores hombres: funcionarios para investigar

Con consternacin, Moctezuma de Tenochtitln Tena poco que decir, de las torres cercanas Mientras l mir detenidamente hacia abajo de una colina Abajo y hacia fuera en el mar verde desnud o; Ahora los regalos fueron puestos a los pies de Quetzalcatl

Mientras la flota de Corts apareci: Quines son estos forasteros, grit Moctezuma, pensando que era el grande Dios Quetzalcatl regresando como lo predic (en el ao Nahua ce acatl ((1-Reed)).

As vino un cometa cayendo del cielo Mientras Moctezuma mir desde su Palacio en Tenochtitln, musit Esto es una seal, de Quetzalcatl el divino. Esto era guerra, o sumisin al destino.

Moctezuma les dio regalos de alimento, Oro, soborn: para que los barcos se marcharan, Mrchense, nunca vuelvan a esta costa Azteca hmeda, llena de mosquitos; As, fuera de su glotonera-avaricia por el oro Corts quem sus barcos, la esperanza de sus compaeros

luego se march y alcanz Jalapa jalando caones todo el camino - a travs de la frontera de Tlaxcala, una nacin-estado Independiente de Moctezuma- Ah, Corts les ofreci paz.

Un aliado fue asegurado para Corts, los Espaoles vidos: y los Tlaxcaltecas; A s, pronto sigui la destruccin de la gran ciudad de Tenochtitln Ciudad de Dioses, Ciudad de los Muertos!!

Quines eran estos dioses blancos crueles? Preguntaron los conmovedores Nahuas Estos dioses corrompidos del mar? Descendientes de Quetzalcatl, quizs? Ms corruptos que Moctezuma

Trasladndose a Cholulla, la ciudad antigua De Quetzalcatl, ellos tuvieron un banquete Las barbas largas y los Nahuas; As, los Nahuas fueron engaados Desarmados, y matados como ratas.

Y entonces el viaje de Corts continu Hacia Tenochtitln, pasando el Gran Volcn, a su paso, a la ciudad bajo la Calle de la Muerte el gui A sus barbudos sardnicos guerreros!

Descendientes de Quetzalcatl

Los hombres de Cortes, Descendientes de Quetzalcatl Eso el gran Jefe Moctezuma crey: Permitiendo ser capturado por el enemigo, Los Embajadores de la crueldad, por amor a la Profecay entonces as fue !

Ahora un prisionero y una marioneta de Corts Controlado por cuerdas e spaolas Quetzalcatl-Corts leg muchas Crueldades sobre la ciudad Tenochtitln Y sobre el Rey Azteca agonizante.

Moctezuma muri por la penalidad de piedra, De su gente; algunos dicen, por el cuchillo de Corts; Expulsado por los aztecas en Tenochtitln Devastados por la derrota, los espaoles se marcharon Pero slo para regresar otro da .

Nota: Dennis Siluk, es un viajero mundial y buscador de los misterios del mundo, quien nos trae a la luz al misterioso personaje de Quetzalcatl. El estuvo en las grandes ciudades antiguas de Mjico, Amrica Central y Sudamrica; ste fue para el Sr. Siluk, un poema intenso para escribir, en particular, viendo quin era realmente Quetzalcatl para las personas ms all de su siglo. Rosa Pealoza.

Nota: #690 29 de mayo del 2005

Dennis Siluk, a world traveler,and seeker of the mysteries of the world, brings to light the mysterious personage of Quetzalcoatl. He has been to the great ancient cities of Mexico, Central and So uth America; this was a most searching poem for Mr. Siluk to do, in particular, looking for who Quetzalcoatal really was to the people beyond his century of life. Rosa Penaloza

Author:: Dennis Siluk
Keywords:: Poetry
Post by History of the Computer | Computer safety tips