The coldness of a friend and the coldness of linen -- they never lasted long.
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Blocked
I walk slowly, letting the rain hit my face.
I try to zone out and stay in my own little world to block the coldness out.
BAM!
Coldness tries to bring me back to the other world.
BAM!
This time it takes me back.
I feel the coldness again and the sounds of yelling.
I plug in my headphones and try to go back, but the coldness is to strong and makes me
STAY
poem by Christina J. Williams
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The Earth And Myself...
as i lay my body
upon the grass
coldness seeps
in my garment
then to my skin
penetrating my
body
into the recesses
of my brain
it is the logic
and emotion conjoining
like twins
there is this coldness
that i allow
somehow
from the earth
to my spine
to my heart
it comforts me
that we are still connected
the warmth of my flesh
and blood
into the silence and
coldness of
this Earth.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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She Brought Them All Kindly To Her Grave
of course i know what coldness is
apart from something that is cool
when mother died her hands were extremely cold
for my hold
i let them go
there was no sadness
there was that happiness of letting her rest
and giving myself a little space
for tomorrow
when coldness comes again in an empty room
with open windows
i know not what panic shall be
my hands are extremely cold these days
when i kiss them
my lips become frozen
they break like glasses
i cannot speak
there is no way that my tongue shall give in to
words
it cannot face coldness in the mirror
of my face
since you ask and you demand an explanation i open my hands
and i let your hands touch them
i cannot speak i am afraid i will be cruel
you must hold these extreme coldness for a long time
so you can all let them go
like white birds against a dark sky
so you can also experience what happiness
i had when i let go off
mama's fears
when mama closed her eyes
because what was important she knew
need not be said anymore
she brought them all kindly to her grave
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Symbiosis
you are the glass
and on your open mouth
i am the water
i will fill every space
of your body
do not feel my coldness
you do not deserve it.
keep the thirst
i shall quench it.
do not be carried away
by my coldness
do not spill me
i need you as vessel
of my directionless fluidity.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Trying...
if your coldness at dawn
cannot tackle the
morning sunshine
try some amount of
time convincing yourself
that you also know
how to outstrip that coldness
that you also know
how to win sometimes
that your love for sunshine
is a prize that you have to win
because if you do not
then who will?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Poem For A Cold Woman....
gradually i feel the coldness of
your touch
your words are sour
the change is noticeable
i do not beg for affection
i do not force myself in your coldness
you need the warmth of the sun
i am not the sun
you must need someone
other than my begging which i do not have for now
i know where to go
i go home
and my home is myself
you have become a stranger
an alien port where my boat cannot dock
perhaps
this is what goodbye is all about
a ripe fruit
which is not for my picking
it is now all yours.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Little Disturbed
at 2: 01 in the morning
you switch on the light
a little bit dim
not to hurt your eyes
and you get out of bed
naked
you open the door
towards the kitchen
and get a glass of water
you drink
you want to satisfy thirst
wetting your tongue
and gargling the coldness
swallowing it gently
feeling this creeping
coldness to your
throat down
to your abdomen
something is burning
inside
and the water is
not killing it
you sit and think
a while and stare
at the light
there is nothing there
except the glare
now you wonder
sleep is still nowhere
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Better the coldness of a friend than the sweetness of an enemy.
Song Of Winter
Cool cool winter,
The air is dewy fresh,
In the morning
sweet the sun rays.
Almost darkness,
Foggy wind does blow,
In this winter,
Life does run slow.
Mist appeares all day,
Hide the sun rays,
In this winter,
Very well you can tress.
Wear we warm cloths,
In this season,
Shivering coldness,
Is the reason.
In this coldness,
Under sun we bake,
Many veggies do grow,
And take fruits and cake.
poem by Uttam Biswas
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09. Do not stand at my grave and weep
when i am dead, i am dead
the world goes out of me and i out of it
there is nothing anymore in between
do not stand at my grave then and weep
for these ears will not hear, and these eyes will not see
and there will be only coldness in between
if you really love and care, show it all to me now if you can
for when i am dead, i am dead
the world goes out of me and i out of it
these ears will not hear and these eyes will not see
there is only coldness in between
warm me up if you can now when i am still alive
for tomorrow the sun may never rise again
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Hells not hot its cold
Cold why is my heart so cold in the inferno of mans sins.
My heart has gone black, in this frozen pillar of ice.
My heart can’t beat anymore, in this place where love dies.
My heart isn’t strong anymore, weekend by these everlasting frozen tears.
My heart isn’t alive, where the dead are still breathing.
Coldness is what I feel, coldness is what God made to match my heart.
poem by Beating Tree
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Coming Back....
pressing the orange.
it is not you that feels the pain
or the
pressure.
someone else does it for you
as you watch
when he twists his fingers and his face
but you
have other things to see
with the gladness of your
heart.
she sings a song early this morning
after she bathes herself
in extreme coldness
and i wonder why she did not use the hot shower.
it is the coldness of the morning
that makes her sing
as i still put myself under the thick cover
of a thick blanket.
this denial.
early shall she move out.
no word is wasted.
do not ask the meaning of moving out
it can be painful
reinvent the word, coming back, redefine it.
who knows?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Ship
reach what island
how pappa contact
we have been long enough [do] not meet
possible two months
you burned [by] day sun
gnawed [by] the coldness of night wind
medial [of] fish which hop
incured [by] your ship net
or porpoise
your friend play at
try to narrate more amount of
night story
[in] ship.
poem by Prasetya Utama
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Kadyot Lang Kita Dinhi (we Will Only Be Here For A While)
================================================= =========
we will only be here for a while
don't go for the worries
or those humiliations
what more of anger
we have only one destination
the grave
and there it is worse
there is no use
there where the coldness
is worse than the cemented coldness
where the worms
are restless
just like here
where there are more people without ears
===================================== =====================
kadiyot lang kita dinhi
ayaw na anang mga kabalaka
ug mga kahiubos
labi na ang kapungot
usa ra ang atong padulngan
ang lubnganan
ug didto labaw na
nga walay pulos
didto diin labaw pa
sa semento ang kabugnaw
diin lihokan kaayo
ang mga ulod
sama dinhi diin daghan
ang mga wala'y dalunggan
================================ ==========================
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Change my mood! Oxytocin, Adrenalin and the rest!
The drizzle of yet to shower rain,
The breeze of yet to blow wind,
The coldness of eternal spring,
The elasticity in the coils of spring,
Hormones run in arteries and veins.
When the Shower changes into a storm,
When the breeze changes into tornado,
When the coldness changes into fire,
When the suppleness changes into rigidity,
One exits and others enter fiercely.
when we like someone, we forgive them,
when we hate someone, we torture them,
When we are praised, we adore them,
When we are questioned, we doubt them.
As our moods change, the hormone change or,
the hormone changes, our mood changes?
The more the love hormone, we are happy,
The more the fly or fight hormone,
we are sad and bold.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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It was a winter bringing despair
It was a winter bringing despair
when the black frost kills wherever it falls
with a killing coldness in the air
and even the doves stop their intimate calls,
where water in streams freeze into ice,
the grass of the veldt rather turn brown than yellow
and old men live out their last fantasies of vice
before the winds of death starts to blow
A time when people put their children early to bed,
where even the chimney fire doesn’t bring heat
while few words among people are said
and coldness creeps up through icy feet.
Yet it was a time of love and making love
while couples did fit into each other like a well made glove.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Cause of Enmity between Snake and Man
Snake, the first owner of fire.
Dog, the robber of fire.
Man the last owner of fire.
The snake gave birth first to fire.
Thus fire, the first born of snake.
Thus snake, only owner of fire long ago.
One cold evening
The man dying of coldness
The dog seen it master dying of coldness
It went to snake house and begged
The snake, the mother of fire to let
It tail get warm of fire
The snake cordially welcomed the dog
The dog twisted it tail on fire
The tail caught the fire
The dog jumped over the snake in door
Ran quickly to it master, the man
The man took the grass and wood
And lit up the fire
The fire lit up in man’s house
And it extinguished in snake’s house
The snake come to get fire back
But the man attack the snake
The hostility between man and snake
Began then
poem by David Aoloch Bion
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Lookout Rock
The Timber Wolf's a wary beast,
As cautious as can be
And this young wolf was mighty pleased
At all that he could see...
His lookout rock gave him full view
Of front, back, left and right,
Conserving strength helped him get through,
That suited him just right...
Not many humans could survive
The coldness in the air,
Fur coats are fine, but who can thrive
With coldness everywhere?
Sometimes the days are twilight times,
The sun's a distant friend,
It's then each wolf more wisely climbs,
Its safety to defend...
The Timber Wolf endures it all,
It lives from day-to-day
And few ignore its mountain call,
Although most stay away...
But those who see it roaming wild,
Stand still and stare direct,
As if by beauty they're beguiled
And show it some respect...
Denis Martindale, copyright, October 2012.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Lookout Rock'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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At The Extreme
at the extreme
coldness is the coldness of the arctic snow
and hotness is the hotness of the volcanic flow
he got them all and he survived them all
his palms know what are all these things all about
but he never stopped touching
he touched the rays of the sun at noon
with his hands opening in prayer
he touched the frost with his fingers
he disliked his fists
he opted more for the silence of the dusks
and the patience of some longer nights
at the extremes of seasons and events
he continued talking to the trees and all its leaves
to his horse to his dog to his door
to his chair to his bed
to his stair
he kept his prayers
He lives. He is very much alive. His solitude his nest.
His prayers shaped the wings of a white bird.
His stone his silence. His strength, his spirit.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Coldness
The glimpse of dark night shivered and overwhelmed
Lightning like a splash of fire fiercely terrorized
Mountainous valley retreated and succumbed
Oak and maple homes enlightened with animosity
Iced soaked rains weren’t the worst nightmare
Mean rivers were numbed and cold
Rigid and passive vehicles
Strolling along the icy roads with courage
Defeated throughout the night of chilled coldness
Icebreaker should have done the jobs
But the sub zero will frozen you
Before you could heat up the machine
Interpreted into deformation
Froze bites will drive you into illusions
Something eloped of appreciation
Coldness is madness
Fragile and dumbness
Evolutes into a white wilderness
poem by Sulaiman Mohd Yusof
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