Oh me! Thy glorious days have flown!
I mealy noticed, now they're gone,
How quickly passed the flowers!
Time does not stop youth's bells;
It was like I was in a spell,
And my face now shows the hours!
Ah yes! My youthful past days,
Still lively in my golden age,
When all was quick and new
Now wrapped in pictures and books,
And friends and family were all I knew
And love was shown by friendly looks!
They stop by to see me now
To find what's old and new,
They peer into my-everything,
And criticize my views;
They tell me what I should like,
And that I should be grieved-
These are my fragile friends
That takes the strongest liberties?
I mean to take the buzzer off;
And put the phone outside the door;
In vain I speak to tell them why
-I shan't live here anymore!
A note on Style: some people ask, "What style of poetry to you like the best?" I can never answer that question; it is open-ended to me. If I feel like breaking free from tradition as in the poem of: "Old Age," so be it; and if I feel traditional verse, a stricter formal pattern should be used, as in "Boyhood," and can contribute richly to the poem, so it is. I guess a poem-my way of thinking anyhow-is meant, for man, not man for the poem. In a similar manner, like a Sunday, which is meant for man to rest, but not to be used as a tool for such a rigid life, that you leave the goat in the well and wait until Monday to get it out; you got to do what you got to do.
Dennis Siluk's new book, "Spell of the Andes," is now out at most of your internet books sites such as http://www.amazon.com. He lives in Minnesota and Peru. He is also working on a book called, "Curse of the Abyss Worm," and a book of 25-short stories, in English and Spanish.