Wrapping dumplings
Wrapping dumplings in
bamboo leaves, with one finger
she tidies her hair
poem by Matsuo Basho
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Bamboo Tunes and Cat Eyed Girl
In the murmuring evenings,
Cat eyed girl, worn ear-rings,
Stands by bamboo cluster,
Putting down pots of water.
Gilded bamboos sing and sway,
And the tired path becomes gay.
Bamboo hearts throb ever;
Unnamed tunes cease never.
Her bamboo throes resounded
In the gloomy wind unbounded.
Melodies of earth does shower
On her soul that does hover.
Finger tip of the wind brings
Sweet tunes from bamboo strings.
Music enters her inner grove,
Where the forlorn dreams rove.
Cuddled bamboos swing and say
What the lovers failed to say.
Never dying natural music
So keeps her hopes rhythmic.
poem by Fabiyas M V
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The Little Girl With Curly Hair
there is this little girls with black curly hair
flat nose, thin eyelashes, wavy goatish eyelids,
sitting on a bamboo pole
(the common furniture there)
with bare hands and bare feet
staring at me,
for i am new here and i have a big tummy
and i am white skinned, and i have candied
inside my pockets, she knows that soon
i will throw all these candies in the air
for all the other children
but there is something strange about this
little brown girl with curly hair sitting all alone
on that bamboo chair
her father and mother were killed in the last rebellion.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Bamboo Tree Poem
see the coming of the wind
from the prairies
see how it is playing with the
leaves of the bamboo tree
see how a bamboo leaf falls
to the ground
withered by the sun
and now flip-flopping
like an Olympic diver
see how it finally touches
the womb of the earth
silently it lies there
soundlessly it appears
like any other leaf
beside a woman now
sleeping
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Erroneous Perceptions of Reality In a Late Afternoon's Sun
There is just something very sexy
about the way she twists and plays
with that short section of fine hair
on the left side of her pretty head; wrapping
it around her index finger and painted nail
as she glances into her car's rearview mirror
while she waits for the light to turn green
Meanwhile I stare at her in wonderment and pray…
that we are stuck in traffic forever…
The fantasy ends as the car behind me
honks for Jesus…
2008 © T Sheridan
poem by Ted Sheridan
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Bamboo Bimbo
Well he caught his first whiff in the jungles
Ofnam
That slant-eyed catfish tasted better than mom
Now every single night she drops her big bomb
Cause hes a bamb00 bimbo
Those hook marks really show
Cause hes a bamboo bimb0
He went for it now everyone knows
Hes a bamboo bimb0
He caught his first glance in field and stream
That salt water taffy was a fishermans
Wet dream
Now every single night hes still gettin
That big ream
Cause hes a bamboo bimb0
He fell it and everyone knows
Hes a bamboo bimbo
Just a monkey with a ring in his nose
Hes a bambo0 bimbo
Cant say I never told ya so
Hes a bamboo bimb0
It go on and on and on
song performed by by Devo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Mountain Lovers
See the winding path
Like a thousand connecting boas
Frozen in false stillness
Leading to the foot of the mountain
And there
Hear the quick fall
Of a ripe mango
And the stringing
Of the bamboo leaves
The cracking
Of a bamboo stairway
Antiquity
Leading to a cogon-masked
Door
Walling in a masterpiece
Of a man
And a woman
In love
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I Feel Your Touch
I shall not cut short my hair
Still I feel touch of your finger
in my hair
I do feel how your finger crawl
inside my dark hair.
How can I meet you again
You are beyond my touch
You are beyond my vision
I fear if my body rots
The body once you loved.
poem by Devil Poet
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An Arrangement
.. and so we went to her place
in a house where her only furniture
is a bamboo bed
she holds my face
she kneels down
she kisses my hand
as though she is my slave
... and so something which should not have happened happened
there's that tinge of guilt
i wanted her to say she loves me
but she didn't
she made me happy all the way
all way through that lonely night
on that bamboo bed
that following morning
when she was still fast asleep
i kissed her hair
put something beside her
that she loves most
it will make her survive perhaps for a month
even without love
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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It Is Finished
the stalking is finally over
the poems still keep popping
and flowers blooming
(oh the cliche of birds singing
and cicadas chirping)
the bamboo leaves bring
the hush in the making
the sea is crystal clear
i swim there
and this i must wait
when i rise up from the
waters
when my hair is wet
and my body still dangling
with glistening sea foams and drops
i now find this joy
of lying upon the big stone
by the shore
sunbathing.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The computer tree- algorithm (Sextuple Crystalline Poetry)
A free tree is never rooted
Infinite complete binary tree
A finger tree has internal nodes
Each one in this tree has child nodes
And their connection is a walk
Parents and children walking the tree
Nodes without children are called leaves
While roots are leaves for the finger trees
Very intelligent words tree
Trees-no one-to-one correspondence
Adaptive merging operation
Implementing finger searching trees.
poem by Marieta Maglas
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Wrapped Around Your Finger
You consider me the young apprentice
Caught between the Scylla and Charibdes.
Hypnotized by you if I should linger
Staring at the ring around your finger.
I have only come here seeking knowledge,
Things they would not teach me of in college.
I cant see the best in me
That you saw
I'll be wrapped around your finger.
I'll be wrapped around your finger.
Mephistopheles is not your name,
But I know what you're up to just the same.
I will listen hard to your tuition,
And you will see it come to it's fruition.
I'll be wrapped around your finger.
I'll be wrapped around your finger.
Devil and the deep blue sea behind me
Vanish in the air you'll never find me.
I will turn your face to alabaster,
Then you'll find your servant is your master,
And you'll be wrapped around my finger.
I'll be wrapped around your finger.
You'll be wrapped around my finger.
I'll be wrapped around your finger
song performed by by Underoath
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Quintetto
[To the tune of "Turning, turning, turning, as wheel goes round."]
RECITATIVE. MR. PAPERSTAMP:
Jack Horner's CHRISTMAS PIE my learned nurse
Interpreted to mean the public purse.
From thence a plum he drew. O happy Horner!
Who would not be ensconced in thy snug corner
THE FIVE:
While round the public board all eagerly we linger,
for what we can get we will try, try, try:
And we'll all have a finger, a finger, a finger,
We'll all have a finger in the CHRISTMAS PIE.
MR. FEATHERNEST:
By my own poetic laws, I'm a dealer in applause
For those who don't deserve it, but will buy, buy
So round the court I linger, and thus I get a finget
A finger, finger, finger in the CHRISTMAS PIE.
THE FIVE:
And we'll all have a finger, a finger, a finger,
We'll all have a finger in the CHRISTMAS PIE.
MR. VAMP:
My share of pie to win, I will dash through thick and thin
And philosophy and liberty shall fly, fly, fly:
And truth and taste shall know, that their eve Iasting foe
Has a finger, finger, finger in the CHRISTMAS PIE.
THE FIVE:
And we'll all have a finger, a finger, a finger,
We'll all have a finger in the CHRISTMAS PIE.
MR. KILLTHEDEAD:
I'll make my verses rattle with the din of war and battle,
For war doth increase sa-la-ry, ry, ry:
And I'll shake the public ears with the triumph of Algiers,
And thus I ll get a finger in the CHRISTMAS PIE.
THE FIVE:
And we'll all have a finger, a finger, a finger,
We'll all have a finger in the CHRISTMAS PIE.
MR. PAPERSTAMP:
And while you thrive by ranting, I'll try my luck at canting,
And scribble verse and prose all so dry, dry, dry:
And Mystic's patent smoke public intellect shall choke,
Arld we ll all have a finger in the CHRISTMAS PIE.
THE FIVE:
We'll all have a finger, a finger, a finger,
We'll all have a finger in the CHRISTMAS PIE.
MR. ANYSIDE ANTIJACK:
My tailor is so clever, that my coat will turn for ever,
And take any colour you can dye, dye, dye:
For all my earthly wishes are among the loaves and fishes,
And to have my little finger in the CHRISTMAS PIE.
THE FIVE:
And we'll all have a finger, a finger, a finger,
We'll all have a finger in the CHRISTMAS PIE.
poem by Thomas Love Peacock
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A House
rusty galvanized iron
as roof
barely a third of the space
mixed with the
nipa shillings
this is the house
by the side of the sea
with bamboo slats
as walls
the sea is not calm today
the bamboo fences are shaky
to the strong wind
i am inside a house of glass
i see all these
but i hear nothing
leaves of the jackfruit are blown
to the other side of the
fenced area
beyond this frame of mind
i cannot say anything
i am caged.
Our vision is caged.
We do not see
the whole picture
and people think that
we are wrong
that we are blind.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Mess Of A Man
Meet a man,
A man named Harry,
He's in need of a shave,
And it's quite scary,
He's got hair on his chest,
Hair on his back,
Hair on his ass,
And hair in his crack,
He leaves hair on the soap,
Hair on the floor,
Hair every place,
Including the store,
Harry, dear Harry,
Do something, please,
Your hair retains odor,
And you reek of cheese!
Look at your cat,
What will you do?
Your cat's hairballs,
They're the hairs from you!
No hope, it seems,
For your hairiness,
It'll just regrow,
So live in your mess.
poem by Maddy Jones
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On the Lake (1)
Mountain monks facing chess sit
Board on bamboo dark quiet
Shine bamboo no person see
Sometimes hear down chess piece sound
Two monks sit facing, playing chess on the mountain,
The bamboo shadow on the board is dark and clear.
Not a person sees the bamboo's shadow,
One sometimes hears the pieces being moved.
Can't Put My Finger On It
Is it alive, does it writhe
Can it survive under the sun?
I can't put my finger on it.
Is it green, is it red
Is it alive or is it dead
I can't put my finger on it
Scathe with a lathe
All the days in the past
I can't put my finger on it
Is it brown, is it white
Is it really outta sight
I can't put my finger on it
Can it squeal, does it squirm
If it's fresh will it burn?
I can't put my finger on it
Can it fly, will it try
If the wings are still wet?
I can't put my finger on it
Can it heal, is it real
Can it feel the threads of time?
I can't put my finger on it
Does it glow, will it shine
Does it leave a trail of slime
I can't put my finger on it
Are you surprised when I touch the dwarf inside?
(Repeat three times)
(Repeat first verse
song performed by by Ween
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Summer Rain Came Suddenly
Summer rain came suddenly
and you and she
had just got off the school bus
and had to run for shelter
and so entered the wood
and settled beneath some trees
which at least kept off
some of the rain
and as you both stood there
looking about the woodland
and listening to the rain
fighting its way through
the overhead branches and leaves
smelling the rain smell
hearing the sound
of rain falling
she said suddenly
That was unexpected
one minute the sun's shining
the next the downpour
and she turned
and looked at you
raindrops falling down
from her hair onto
the side of her nose
and sitting there
for a few moments
then sliding down
and moving along
her cheek
and you wiped
the drops off
with the end of your finger
and she took your finger
and mouthed it
and licked off the rain
and held your finger
in her hand
and said laughing
That was my raindropp
and you saw
how her lips parted
and in such a way
that you sensed
an inner explosion
of what you thought of
as love and said
Rain is rain
it's got its own smell
and touch
and feel
and she moved her lips
to your finger
and licked it once more
and you laughed
and felt your heart leap inside
and she said
releasing your finger
Love is love
something like rain
something you feel
and sense and know
and she kissed you and said
Mum' ll wonder where I am
we'd better go
and moving out
from beneath the trees
you ran off together
into the falling rain
all over again.
poem by Terry Collett
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Lovely, Lovely, Lovely Memories
By an old river beside a bamboo grove
She bathes herself
Only the bamboo leaves hinder
Your view of her long black hair
As she splashes naked in the
Clear River.
Lovely 2
There is a nipa hut on the side of a hill
You meet her when it is dark
She lights your cigar
As you get near her
You decided to smoke later
Lovely 3
You are rocking yourself on a rattan hammock
On a late afternoon when the rest go home
It is Saturday
She stays
You watch her come near you giving you something
She says it is the key to her room and she is all alone tonight.
Lovely 4
The cogon grasses have grown tall & thick on the hillside
Both of you hide in there
Nobody sees you
The tall cogon grasses dance wildly to the slow wind
Lovely 5
Four years in the university studying chemistry
You return home finally
You embrace your old mother meeting you by the door
Outside you see the guava tree filled with its ripe yellow fruit odor
So heavily laden like a big Christmas tree
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Wrapping the rice cakes
Wrapping the rice cakes,
with one hand
she fingers back her hair.
Translated by Robert Hass
poem by Matsuo Basho
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bamboo groove
the leaves carouse
with stars
haiku by John Tiong Chunghoo
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