Wednesday, June 4, 2014

Stars over Germany (Revised June 2014)

“I received your book “Last Autumn and Winter”….  It's beautiful you have really captured Minnesota. And I love that it is in Spanish and English.   … Thanks so much for sending this treasure to me Dennis.”

 Gail Weber, Editor and Owner of “Exploring Tosca”    A Minnesota                     
                                        Cultural magazine (5-25-2010)

 Stars over Germany
                                                             (Poetic Lore in Verse)


                                          (Poems on Germany)

By Dennis l. Siluk, Dr. H.c.

International Latin Poet Laureate, and Nine Time Poet Laureate in Peru (Recipient of the Gran Cross of San Jeronimo)

Front Cover and Inside Illustrations by the Author
       Stars over Germany
               (Poetic Lore in Verse)
Copyright © June, 2014 by Dennis L. Siluk, Dr. h.c./Collaborator: Rosa Peñaloza de Siluk, BS

Front cover picture, drawing by the author as well as all drawings inside this book

C o n t e n t s the author lived in Germany during the 1970s (1970 & 1974-76; 4-years)



1— Stars over Germany
3—Black Forest
4—Old Roman Wall
5—A Lazy Day in Augsburg
6—Awaking Along the Mosel
7— Limerick for: Cochem,
8—Heidelberg Castle
9— Aschaffenburg´s Gem
10—Wuerzburg´s Baroque

 (Poems 1 thru 10 written 2-2006)


11—Polirritmo of the: German Winter Shower 
(Written: 8-2008)

Plus: Mixed dates for the following poetry written

12—The Ghost of Plassenburg (written, 7, 2007)

13—Enchanting Dieburg
((By Muenster by Dieburg, West Germany) (1974)) Written 7-2010

14—Laughter from the Park
Written: 8-2007 (Babenhausen, West Germany)

15—Bavaria‘s Harvest
[Augsburg, Germany] A Sonnet (Written 1981)
In the Author’s first book: “The Other Door”

Plus: Most recent poetry written, 2014 (in long line verse

16—the Rhineland!
17—the Pink Castle   

18—the Mosel, in the Middle Ages  
              19—Garmisch, in the Meadows
   Stars over Germany

Babenhausen by the Park—1974-1976

Advance:  I spent four years of my life in West Germany, in the 1970s,  and saw many castles, up and down the Rhine and Mosel Rivers (and Valley’s), to mention a few locations.  There are perhaps 20,000 castles, palaces and ruins in West Germany alone.   The History of Germany goes back to the time of Caesar, the conqueror of Gaul, when the Roman Empire was being expanded: Augsburg perhaps is one of the oldest cities in West Germany, dating back to somewhere around 58 BC. In the Middle Ages (450 to 1450 A.D.) and the Dark ages creeping out of these, around the 10th century, we see such towers like the Dieburg Tower in Dieburg, as you will see a drawing the author did, whom lived in Dieburg, in 1970s throughout Germany per se; I lived across the street from the Dieburg Tower and wrote the book, “Cold Kindness,” which involves the ancient tower.
        Here within this book, that was actually completed a number of years ago, are the stars the author put away in his memory banks, and now in poetic verse on his voyage while in the Rhineland. The author has been to all locations mentioned: offhand I can think of any he hasn’t.   

       It might be of interest to the reader, this book has been in the making for close to nine years. The first poems written in 2006, and a few in 2007, 2008, 2010, one in 1981, and the last in 2014: total of 15 to 16 poems, not many at all. I don’t have a good reason why it’s been put aside so long, time and again I’ve thought of them but small details stopped me from giving them to the public, perhaps I expected them to be more unique, and they are just simple poems,  which admirable blend  of  simplicity, and little poetic eloquence, but  have a startling originality. Although one poem, a sonnet was published in my first book “The Other Door,” in 1981, “Bavaria’s Harvest” (a sonnet), and “German Winter Shower,” which is a Polirritmo poem, written in 2008; both unique in their own way. And the last poem, in long line verse, “The Rhineland” (2014). We also have a good legend for you also, “The Ghost of Plassenburg” (2007).


Stars over Germany

Long I searched your night skies
Walked your cobblestone streets
Back in the 1970s…
Reaching for stars east to west
In my youthful days, roughly
And a roustabout, I was.
Now—old and grey, enmeshed in a day
Those memories come to light!
Like wings in flight—

Come! Take a voyage with me,
Down the ancient steps of Germany.
            Once half exiled—today, exulted:
            I am proud, to have walked the Rhineland!

#1176 2/6/2006

Note:  Perhaps this poem is long overdue, but one can only write poetry when it is ripe to write. Germany remains precious within my being, I lived there for four and half years, in the early 1970s; it is a most wondrous and beautiful land, with a medieval delightful touch. I am very proud they found a way to unite east and west, to become one Germany.



             Munich, West Germany 1970s

        O Munich, O Munich!  Forevermore—
        I see the dancing on your wooden floors, yes
        the Oktoberfest is taking place,
        inside those elephant tents—everyplace!
        (I was there, in 1970, among the youth, the restless).       
        I can still hear the bronze horns echo, and taste
        the flavored birch beer, as it drips  on my chin.
        (Five million glassfuls will be poured this year!)
        All is pleasing to thy heart and ear!
                    But cast in dreams, it must remain,
        to relive once more, once more again,
        in my endless dreams.

                Note:  I attended the 1970 Oktoberfest in Germany; it was perhaps one of the few highlights of my first                           
                visit in    Germany, of which was for ten-months, my second visit was 44-months.


    The Black Forest
                     [Bavaria’s deep] 1970---Augsburg  


       The Black Forest, of Bavaria:
       Wherein the beauty of its deep
       Resides not in its sunlit tender skies.
       For there is nothing penetrating the wintry eye,
       But white on white, here and there, everywhere:
       Eye-gleaming white beauty, piercing…!
       My knees go snow deep as I drudge those forest
       Banks, up and down; dodge those tall trees,
       With ghost like branches; push our VW, out
       From under mud and snow—; rush to head on
       Back to the Army Barracks, in Augsburg!
       (That’s how it was, forty-four years ago.)

             In the 1970, I went one wintry day into the deep of the Black Forest, with a few friends—whom got stuck
             with their VW (several times) and we all felt lucky we made it out and back to Augsburg , with no frozen               
             Parts   to our bodies.  #1177 2/6/06 


  The Old Roman Wall
     (In Augsburg, Germany)

  In Augsburg there’s an old Roman wall,
    of mortar and  stone, thick and catholic
    as the day is long…!
    Opened to the sky’s sapphire blues—
    Homeless looking is this old fortress ruins.
    Soundless, secretive, unmovable under the
    sombre sun, —for  two-thousands she’s stood.
    No doors, no windows, no locks,
    just mortar and rock—
    Perhaps, — with a cryptic past!
    Thus, unceasingly I cannot answer why,
    but it’s sublime.

        #1181 2/7/2006 (Revised and Reedited, 6/2007) to my understanding it was built around 50 BC or so


 A Lazy Day in Augsburg
  [West Germany—1970]

 Against a big oak tree
 (at least it looks oak to me) it is 1970:
 I lean my back, and rest a bit…
 A lazy day in Augsburg I guess!
 No work and no place to really go
(that is, no marching or playing soldier).
 I could go to the dayroom, to play pool!
 Or sit in the music room, listen to
“Nat King Cole!”
 But it’s the tree and the sun for me today,
 If they have no objections—
 And why should they,
 I’m just passing through, absorbing its
 Weaving golden-yellow beams
 As I do: upon my brow and torso…!
 And to be quite frank, I’m rather thankful….

Notes:  looking at an old pictures I had taken of myself during that summer of 1970, resting against an old tree, and I remember the day quite well, it was a lazy day indeed, and I was just 22-years old, and life was so humble.  I spent much time in Augsburg, Germany, as an American Soldier, in 1970, rambling about when I got free time, and I remember this moment so well.  Written 2/2006 revised and reedited 6/2007. #1178


        Awakening along the Mosel
(Along the banks of the river in the Mosel Valley, 1976)

There’s a stirring, an awakening,
walking along the banks of the Mosel;
and high above its surrounding hills
are ancient orchards fresh and mild
—castles with a valley breeze!

Wondrous views seldom seen...!

Note:  among the many places I have visited during my two stays in Germany, the Mosel Valley, its   river and castles were among the greatest highlights. It is seldom a poet can go back to the moment to capture the event. It took me 30-years to write the few-poems in this book on Germany.    (Revised, reedited 6/2007))Originally written, 2/2006))


Limerick for: Cochem  
(Along the Slopes of the Mosel)

Cochem commands the Mosel´s steep slopes
Formed by volcanic upheavals, long ago
Here the towering Reichsburg Castle bows
Bows to the Valley River below
Bows to its mighty volcanic slopes…!

Note: (No: 1872; written, 6/9/2007)


Heidelberg Castle
((Fortress on the Hill) (1975))

Shawn on my right hand, Cody on my left
Twin sons, three-plus years old,
Walking up the battlement, to
Heidelberg’s castle; then later on that day
Awaiting in the courtyard for the illumination.

I recall, standing tall in its ancient courtyard
(insignificant things happening at the time)
Wandering through its medieval laboratory
A painting depicting terror and confusion
(some battle had taken place) And,
An old 16,000-gallon wine cask, in the cellar
(everyone got a glass wine)
Walls and halls, and even the walkways, battered
They’d seen their time.

It was all marvellous in all senses, all that day
To have walked on those ancient stones
To keep such memories tucked away for today!
Now so very long ago…

Notes by the author:  I visited Heidelberg Castle one afternoon, in 1975, this 13th century castle, with 16th century buildings here and there, with my twin boys Shawn and Cody.  I stayed for what was called the ‘Illumination,’ where they light up the castle, and had fireworks, a most inspiring event. In its ancient, and most gracious looking courtyard I relaxed and took the day in, my son Cody and Shawn at that time was with me (about three-plus years old), they were running here and there; thank God I was young); it has a slope, or walkway, or rampart, to its top, a long walk it now seems, as I look back, perhaps because I had to carry each of the boys up that long ramp.  #1182 2/7/2006 Revised and Reedited 6/2007


Slant Rhyme, for:
Aschaffenburg´s Gem

Johannesburg Castle—the Pink Palace
Down around the River Main:
Pink-sandstone, king size courtyard
Simply majestic, Aschaffenburg´s gem!

#1184 2/7/06 (revised and reedited 6/2007). 


Wuerzburg´s Baroque
(West Germany, 1974/´76)

Wuerzburg, a legacy of palaces
And structures remain: houses,
Buildings, bridges and churches—of,
By gone days…and a Fortress
Looming above the city! (Marienburg)

Note:  From 1974-1976 I, along with my twin boys, Cody and Shawn, travelled a lot in West Germany, France, Switzerland, Belgium and Luxemburg; especially witnessing its many castles and rivers. In one case, a vineyard surrounding the hilltop reaches back some 3,000 years in history.   #1183 2/7/06. In June they have the Wuerzburg Mozart Festival. (Revised and reedited 6/2007)


Polirritmo of the:
        German Winter Shower 
((A memo of 1970, in Augsburg Germany) (multi rhythm poem))

I have an arch-enemy here in the barracks
it tries to eat me, slowly, it works on the mind
it has one big eye, looks down upon me like God
in this case perhaps the devil…
it lives to be my thorn,
I know this as plain as the nose on my face.

I slant to my sides, right, and then left
the water is running, running in one spot
warm, barely hot, can’t seem to get enough  
old showers, rusted old showers, half thrust
weak power push, as if someone’s sucking it all out
before I get it here, leaving me only enough
to wish I had more.
I wonder how the Nazis contended with this.

It slaps my face, water slaps my face; chilled,
the air is chilled and it seeps and creeps through
the windows, with a cold breeze on my feet
(the blood in my veins not yet circulating)
old and worn showers, but my face is hot
my torso warm—then it changes, like the wind
my feet hot, my face cold, my belly warm,
my arms somewhere in-between…can’t have it all
one way it seems, like life; the top of my head
is chilled again;  cars, car-tires I hear
outside, alongside, flanking I think, the building,
the barracks…horns, it is just first light…
a pale form of mist, from the icy window
(dribbling on my head)
my steel chrome teeth are shuttering,
I hear them like a galloping race horse.
I wonder how the Nazis contended with all this.

I’m cold as a cat’s meow running from a mouse
down a hill, in this case:
down this old World War Two hallway,
quivering and dodging the green saggy walls
trying to get to my room to warm up
before formation, before the brass horn sounds
(to salute the flag, run around the buildings
as if my heart wouldn’t be pumped up already)
my heart humming like a purring car engine
my eyes flashing like windshield wipers bobbing
the barracks is like a beehive—full of unthawing life!
Like fish half frozen, coming back to life, snapping
flapping their flippers, jumping to kick-start their hearts!
This winter’s cold stretches my neck veins,
my internal guts, like pumping pistons,
where’s my, my—blanket? (a question to the mind
the big eye doesn’t like);
slowly, slowly I coil it around me like a cocoon!
I wonder how the Nazis contented with this!
Up, down, up down, up down…
I feel like a clown jumping like this
as if I was a confused bullet…:
plunged heart into the pumping, pumping!
I stop, I have to come down…
Bodies walking by, down the hallway—
slow down I say, down, down, down...
They already got their engines started
perhaps didn’t take a shower…?
Breathing better, reflexes not sputtering,
motor functions operating,
everything’s back to normal…liberty!
my body’s inflamed with heat again,
a spirit filled heat;
the eye didn’t get me today, no not yet.
I’ll never get used to these winter showers!
In Augsburg, Germany, never, ever!
I wonder how the Nazis contented with it!

No: 1925 8-2-2008. Moving and condensed poetry, poetry that captures the movement and spirit of the theme is seldom done, and can usually be done only by someone who has experienced the motion, the condensed actions, and here we have a trip to a German shower (yes just a simple trip, the things life are made up of), in 1970, in the city of Augsburg, West Germany, when I was a soldier, a Private in the Army, USA,  when I was 22-years old, something’s never leave you…simple things, but perhaps to certain people, in this case, me, it is no different than a motorcycle ride, one that lasted for 10-months, and in the cold deep of the winter the shower was my arch-rival, it the sense of, it seemed to have its own life.  I like the poetry of Juan Parra Del Riego, I enjoy it, it tells you the real moment of action, when it is taking place, and so I try to capture this moment in a multi rhythm order, called Polirritmo. I thought about doing this poem for many years, but was not sure how to produce it without losing its value, its character, its theme, premise, and so I do it the only way I know.  And I dedicated this poem to Juan Parra del Riego, for his works have inspired me. This style of poetry has several rhythms to it. Reedited 9-22-2009/reedited, 4-2010.


The Ghost of Plassenburg (Castle)

Perhaps the ghost did it, so many have said, in the past, or perhaps it’s been bad luck or poor leadership, for Plassenburg Castle, but everyone knows it started with Agnes.

I have myself heard many a ghost stories in Germany, even heard one evening mysterious footsteps in an old Babenhausen construction, back in ‘73; a World War II story, legend says: someone was thrown from that very window, four stories above me: supposedly,  those old footsteps still retracting the past.

Not so unlike, the ‘White Lady,’ of legend, of Plassenburg, whom still haunts its dark corridors; I saw her one morning.

I’ve heard her called by many names, Agnes is one, and the ‘White Lady’ of Kulmbach, another.

And so the legged goes, something like this:  —by a scorned heart and overwhelming depression, she killed her two children, in cold blood, for the love of this fashionable young Count; and when he washed his hands, clean of her: she committed suicide, but with a dying curse upon her last breath, that she’d comeback as a ghost and haunt Kulmbach to no rest. Thus, in 1553, Kulmbach and its castle were under siege; and for thirty-year Kulmbach would not rest, an extended war upon her breast. Napoleon besieged it in 1806 too, blew it to bits: ill-fated—bad luck. Who’s to say, but it all started, after the death of Agnes…!

Notes: This writer has lived and traveled in West Germany for five-years, in the 1970s, and traveled it extensively, and seen many of its castles, rivers, Abbey’s or Monasteries and the spirit of its land still haunts me, its legends and lore still have moisten my spirit to were I seem to crave more of its spectator design.  Written: 7-22-2007 (No: 1914)


Enchanting Dieburg
((By Muenster) (1974))

While I stood near the tower of Dieburg, in West Germany, in ’74, lived across the street from the Tower Door, I must have looked a long while, staring at the little creek that runs through the park down the street beyond the buildings and small houses, and old white brick walls. Now looking back, after forty years, whatever it was, I question: what was I looking at? My little twin boys who ran to and fro along that little stream: and then I brought them over to the teeter-totter and swings, nearby: that is what I remember, the boys wanted to fly, fly, swing higher, and higher, and either by the swing or the teeter-totter, it was all the same, higher; not yet, quite  three.

No: 2719 (7-3-2010)


Laughter from the Park
(Babenhausen, Germany—spring of 1975)

The Tower in Babenhausen, the author lived with his twin boys
Around the corner of the tower, in 1974 & ’75.
Birds flying overhead—cars running by going nowhere
Cody’s laughter is heard, echoes throughout the little park
a siren goes off—the boy doesn’t know why—
(at the military base nearby)
It sounds again, soldiers smiling with their marching arrangements
and life goes on, and on, and on…
as always.
Little Cody runs, tries to whistle, escapes and hides
(under some bushes nearby)
Hiding from those flying birds, and creepy crawlers!
Playing in that deep green, with its soft soil…
(anxiously waiting for something—but who knows what?)
And from the swings and teeter-totter, drama under the blue
little boy Shawn, with straw white hair, blond and fair,
looks about this mysterious world, with three-year old eyes.
”All is clear” his eyes tell me... “I’m safe, I’m okay!”

Flowers budded above the bushes, light from the sun
a warm wind and a view that puts a smile on the boy’s face
as I look towards them— both smiling!
It’s life at its best, yet, it will not be remembered,
not at three; and life goes on, and on, and on, as always.

The boy’s hands, mind and body are mixed with geometry
they are living in a magic world, merrymaking revelry
with the dome of the earth overhead,
looking for that golden trumpet that sounded a while ago!

From the park to the Old Babenhausen Tower we walk
Cody his brother Shawn and me it is 1975;
to both the twins, the sun is a ball above their heads,
but they don’t say a word, their vocabulary is just forming;
they just think….

Our apartment is down the street some
I reveal a secret as we walk, to Cody:
that evening is coming and that the moon is a ball too
colored similar to the sun.
But neither one quite understands because the sun
seems to  follow them, especially Cody!

I tell them:  it just seems so!
They keep their secret smiles—look up:
the moon is coming in, as the sun is going down.

They are living in fog, with multiple wings…
and Shawn’s mind is racing like those park swings
and life goes on, and on, and on, as always.
Note: Dedicated to Cody Siluk Sir; No: 1941 (8-17-2007); the author lived in Babenhausen, Germany for several months in 1975, out of close to five-years he spent in West Germany throughout the 70s.


Bavaria’s Harvest
[Augsburg, Germany] A Sonnet

Your enchanting rivers, with earth-bearing decay;
Your picturesque cathedral, weather tarnished;
Your citadel-worn clocks—Bavarian *time;
The city’s fountain of regal design;
Your ancient, thick walls of Roman descent;
Your houses of pleasure, with red lights of tinge;
Your burial grounds, where all must lay in time;
Your lost and hidden beauty undefined.
Your houses of schnitzel,
and guesthouses** of brew;
Your rural potato pickers worn old.
(Ah, Augsburg! Ay, me! Your texture, your cover.)
Your festivals of tents, with flavored birch—
I feel your medieval songs, Your harvest gold,
Past, but still present inside my soul.

Note: Poem extracted from the author’s first book, written in 1980, published in 1981, under the title of: “The Other Door, Poetic Exhortations…” © 1981, Dennis L. Siluk, by Exposition Press, New York. [The Sonnet is about: Augsburg, West Germany, 1970, during his first stay in Germany]

The Rhineland

Cody, myself and Shawn, 1974, Amsterdam
(The Netherlands & Rhineland)

She was my godmother (away from home: home being Minnesota), sort of, (Augsburg), West Germany, in 1970: I was one of 700,000-American soldiers in Europe, mostly in the Rhineland. She was older than me, and she had seen it all, and WWII, had only been over just twenty-five years. But she buried it under brick and cobblestone, so there is but little to tell of my life that can be told by this poem, my war would come a year later, in Vietnam. I loved a German-Jew, I got in fights and was drunk—two out of every three nights, and I lounged beneath many a sunny-skies, like old Roman soldiers, back in Nero’s time,  back then; back when I was but twenty-two: under the osculating, freewheeling, sleepy hexed moons.

Godmother, I called her godmother, with her awkward shaped figure, engraved, once as an outpost for Rome. And at her foot, the North Sea she combed (touching the Netherlands, and the great waterway—which swayed her way); and far-off to near Italy, near Munich, I roamed, and for some odd reason, always felt alone, even with 700,000-soldiers in Europe, and most of them in the Rhineland: at that I became, or could have been called: grandson, or pitied soldier, one of those who swayed into a finger-eight (∞): imitating whatever I saw, dancing and singing and eating, and boozing, as my youthful days fell to the wind; and what is left, but only this, poem, and stale sins.

Written: June 1, 2014 (No: 4354)


The Pink Castle   (1975-’76)

Cody and Shawn at a guesthouse in Babenhausen, Germany, 1975

I lived eight-miles from: “Aschaffenburg’s Castle”
A beautiful West German castle, 13th century,
made of pink sandstone.  On the weekends I’d take  
my twin boys:  Cody and Shawn to see the castle
(once we went inside of it);
other times we would just park the car, walk around it.
They’d play in the parking lot, and I’d look at its beauty. 
And when we drive off, we all kind of looked back
at the Castle,
myself through the mirror,
Shawn and Cody through the back window,
we could still see its pinkish colour, its reflection,
through the glass,
fading, fading, then gone:
as we drove on to Babenhausen where we had our home.  

No: 4360 (6-3-2014)
Note: Cody and Shawn were four or close to four


The Mosel, in the Middle Ages (1976)

The author and his wife, Rosa living
In the Middle Ages …

The Reichsburg Castle at Cochem, sits on top of a hill,
looking town upon the Mosel River.
I remember it quite well.
My son Cody along with his twin brother Shawn,
both four years old at the time, in ’76, chased a big goose
but it turned on Cody and seemingly stunned him for a moment,
as Shawn looked on, who remained closer to me.

The slopes in this area are believed to have been formed
by volcanic upheavals in the far past.
It is a most beautiful place.
In the Middle Ages,
the builders of many of these castles used animal blood
and hair as a mixture to reinforce the mortar
used in the cement and plaster; thus, the result is, they lasted.

No: 4361 (6-3-2014)
Note: Photo taken of the author and his wife at a
Renaissance Festival


Cody thumb in mouth, the Poet, and Sawn, in Garmisch, Germany in 1976, by the meadow…

Garmisch, in the Meadows (1976)

to Garmisch, Germany: I put aside my laundry money and used it for gas of all things, figured I’d not be any recluse, in this man’s Army;
hence, I found myself a leather bag for traveling under my bed,
a suitcase older than Methuselah, for Shawn and Cody’s long underwear,
and tucked the boys up tight, with slipover winter suites,
thinking it would be cold when we got to Garmisch:
but when we’d get there, it would be warm; winter had long gone!  

So off we went: twin boys with that long underwear, myself with a dark sweatshirt, a few snacks and thus—: and, a few hours later,
here we were, settled in Garmisch, not yet noon.

There was no snow on the ground, skiing was over for the season,
and most of the hotels were half-rate, half empty.
Shawn in one hand, Cody in the other, we climbed the nearby, hillside together.

The countryside glowed all around the boys like realm mist,
when all of a sudden Cody spotted a cow, in the nearby meadows,  behind a farmer’s fence,
one with a big bell on around its neck, and I think he wanted to dingdong it.
In a blink of an eye, Cody ran under the fence to the cow, and Shawn followed behind, quicker than a jackrabbit—
And it scared me a bit but I let it be!
And when Cody saw the size of the huge cow, he jumped back a tinge,
and Shawn froze in place, —and far-off in the distance, a young boy above ten came running… “Don’t be afraid of the cow!” he yelped.

The boys were four then, not quite men, but they were equally determined to touch that huge cow, and they did!

The pastures, and the countryside, were full of algae: Irish moss on rocks, and foliage of several kinds:
Greens, and yellows and some reds, and browns, a garden in the mountains, you might say.
It was all worth whatever time we had to give it, as we hoisted our heads,
and marched about as if we owned it!  (way back when…).

No: 4362/6-4-2014

Back of Book


The Old Roman wall in Augsburg, German, and the author is in the
center with his  Two Army buddies, 1970…

From the award winning Poet Laureate Dr. Dennis L. Siluk’s new volume of poetry: “Stars over Germany” (having lived four years in Germany, in the 1970s) might be of interest to the reader to know: this book has been in the making for close to nine years. The first poems written in 2006, and a few in 2007, 2008, 2010, one in 1981, and the last few, 2014: total of 19-poems, not many at all. I don’t have a good reason why it’s been put aside so long, time and again I’ve thought of them but small details stopped me from giving them to the public, perhaps I expected them to be more unique, and they are just simple poems,  which admirable blend  of  simplicity, and little poetic eloquence, but  have a startling originality. Although a few poems, one a sonnet was published in my first book “The Other Door,” in 1981, “Bavaria’s Harvest”  and “German Winter Shower,” which is a Polirritmo poem, written in 2008; both unique in their own way. And the three poems, in long line verse, such as, “The Rhineland” (2014). We also have a good legend for you also, “The Ghost of Plassenburg” (2007).

This is Dennis’ 48th book, 18th Volume of Poetry. Back picture is of the author with Poet Laureate of Minnesota, Robert Bly, 2005, in St. Paul, Minnesota. The author lives in Minnesota and Peru, with his wife Rosa.