10:29 P.M.
between us
are these glass window panes
dusty and
misty combined
i see a body
above it profuse light
it is facing me
as i write
my story and this
poem
i know there is no one
living in this house
all are in the monotony
of abandon
i am not afraid of you
another sculpted space
i call it
emptiness still
unaccepted
he calls himself
ghost
but i do not really mind
i too
have unfinished business
and by all means
i must finish it
now....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
I Too, Like An Unfinished Poem
an unfinished poem sounds like
an incomplete sentence
sometimes just a predicate without a subject
like love unrequited
a verb without a noun
an adjective so misplaced that
it calls for an adverb
it is more like a mouth
that opens but says only some syllables
though you as the reader
understands what the poet
wants to stress and mean and accentuate
for some parts of the poem are meant
not to be finished sometimes
in fact, they are meant to be concealed
and well covered like a bikini
to your.........or the prohibited love
you still keep in your........
or the memories that hurt you and are meant
to be unsaid.......you still want her not to
know..........
i, too, like an unfinished poem
like the sketch of your secret love many, many years ago,
once when you were young
the face is unfinished, you have not drawn the eyes
of that love so profuse that no canvass could ever contain
you still like this love unfinished, who knows
the ripe time comes and both of you
will finish
the unfinished love poem soon......
or some poems cannot ever be finished
because the words to complete them still
do not exist
or they are simply missing,
too lost like you,
they are not there yet to a feeling so new
so fragile and so indescribable.....
so rare........
and i, really, like it that way the poem
unfinishes itself
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Scribbler's Stymie
Pen and paper in sight
I've got no poem to write
Staying up all night
I've got no poem to write
Although my mind is bright
I've got no poem to write
It's windy out tonight, should I go fly a kite?
I've got no poem to write
My ceiling, it is white
I've got no poem to write
It's 4: 59! Five, but not quite
I've got no poem to write
In your arms I'd feel so light
I've got no poem to write
I've had no sleep tonight
I've got no poem to write
Will you just hold me tight?
I've got no poem to write
Outside it's almost light
I've got no poem to write
It's late, off goes my light
I've got no poem to write
poem by Julia Grace
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Unfinished Business
Took a walk outside, the truth was on my side,
But I didnt even make the corner.
Revolution in my sights, the time seems so right,
But I never even saw it coming.
Cant let it go. oh no, no.
Cant you hear me call, bang my head against the wall,
Cant stay around this place forever.
Cant you see, we gotta be free,
We all gotta come together.
Dont let go, oh no.
Unfinished business,
You thought youd keep me quiet.
You put a bullet in my side, but you cant put out my light.
Unfinished business,
Yes, loves the only way to find peace today.
The futures here today, we gotta find a way,
To put all the pain behind you.
You gotta put down the guns, all religion is one,
Politicians only want to blind you.
Break away, oh theres a way.
Oh, the message is clear, wipe away all the tears,
And build a better world around you.
Got to give out your love to each and every one,
Cant you see its only fear that holds you,
Let it go. oh, let it go.
Unfinished business,
I though that I was right[? ].
What that fool put out that night, [? ] burn so bright.
Unfinished business,
Oh yes, loves the only way to find peace today.
So you thought youd take my life,
Put a bullet in my side, but you cant put out my light.
Unfinished business,
Loves the only way to find peace today.
Unfinished business
Unfinished business
Unfinished business
Theres a long road behind you,
Its a hard life if you make it one
Come on to the other side [? ]
There is no place to hide
Unfinished business
Unfinished business
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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That Is For......my Eyes Are Closed
1
this is for
The soldier who died today
in your unfinished poem
God has heard all
His sighs.
2
Unfinished poems
Are miraculous
They make God
Hear us
They make us
Think.
they make us
write
our own to finish our own
to fill our own
emptiness
3
He is great
He is good
He is wise
He is omnipresent
He is omnipotent
He is compassionate
He is Love
He is grand
He is the Answer
He is peace
4
Let us have vodka
For a drink
The people here are poor
Let us have rice wine instead.
5
Let not the other half of
The darkness that you see
Create the eclipse of your
Light, let the other half that
You claim you own
shine some more
6
I am watching with my ears
Wide open,
because my eyes are
Closed from the beginning.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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If you loved me, you would rejoice
life to life with you
arm to arm and mind indulging
with the mind
what is it that bothers us?
a bird without wings?
a horse without hoofs?
a man without eyes?
an old woman without a
burial site? a coffin unfinished?
a poem unsigned?
unfinished business
defective structures like
house without pillars
trains without tracks
cocoons without leaves
words without meaning
a poem without a definite ending
a page without a margin
a dog without an ear
a fish not in school
there are sighs unsifted
love unrequited
And now I have told you this
before it happens....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rainpictures On Glass Canvass...
Watching th' ever sadness, of th' rain....am i
Listening to it speak......between its torrents
On winded wings it strikes defenseless sod
Yet, thru these window panes of fog'n streak
I open th' Pandora's Box....natures teary fall
Water paint images streak th' clouded glass
Like an abstract, surrealistic...faux-pas finish
Streetlights, like spotlite...on a fresh Picabia
Before my watchful mind, th' picture changes
Kaleidoscopic lines invent.....with criss-cross
Some say: ''a picture paints a thousand words''
If true, th' artistry of rain, paint thousands more
Radiance of window panes adorned in nature
And, on th' other side...a smiling child marvels
With fingers pressed on fogged glass canvass
poem by Frank James Ryan Jr.
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Life In A Glass House
once again im in trouble with my only friend
she is papering the window panes
she is putting on a smile
living in a glass house
once again packed like frozen and battery hens
think of all the sraving millions
dont talk politics and throw stones
your royal highnesses
well of course i'd like to sit around and chat
well of course i'd like to stay and chew the fat
well of course i'd like to sit around and chat
but someones listening in
once again
we are hungry for a lynching
thats a strange mistake to make
you should turn the other cheek
living in a glass house
well of course i'd like to sit around and chat
well of course i'd like to stay and chew the fat
well of course i'd like to sit around and chat
and only only only
there someone listening in.
song performed by by Radiohead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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1. A House upon the Height
an abandoned house
saps the spirit with its
nagging and chilling
emptiness, a black hole
that sucks out the
shimmering warm sun
to throw shadows and
ice over the hazy lanes of
imagination
a broken empty house
on the height echoes
relentless gloom and tales of woe
through each of its missing
chilling window panes
missing pages of a horror
story that solicit entries
from the haunted mind
of an innocent who has
lost his way in the dark of night
the overgrown grass
strays haphazardly and
almost in a haste to doors,
windows, walls and collapsing
roof to claim its static prey
they wake up a body of
monks (ghost bumps)
with their reverberating
aum aum chants that
have the negative effects
of sending shivers down one's spine
a torn and soiled jacket strewn
across the menacing garden
a little baby's drum, holed and beaten
out of shape by the unkind weather
carry with them broken dreams
an empty house wears itself out
sooner than an occupied house
a world shunning loner, who eventually
descends into despair, a wretched
soul losing all its charm and love
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Morning Poem Did Not Come
THE MORNING POEM DID NOT COME
The morning poem did not come-
So this is the effort of an afternoon poem,
Warm and sun- filled and relaxing and deep and waiting.
This is a poem between times more interesting than itself.
The light is so great now.
But this too is a poem of little or nothing to say
Of afternoon emptiness after morning emptiness
On a tired tired day.
Once I thought I would write poems which would make immortal
Those I love.
Now I write poems to keep myself going.
This afternoon I am extremely tired
But if this is poem
Or even if I only think it is
I can have a rest
Before I face the evening.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Of Ghosts And Writers....
of ghosts i am no longer afraid
in this room
i do my own thing
i write
and they can have their own show
each to his own
unfinished business.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Unfinished Business
an unfinished business
a reason to live and shy away from the
courage to die,
at twenty, you ask for a little time
longer, at thirty, you beg, another ten years
you pray, another more,
for an unfinished business
an house that looks like a face
wanting still to have eyes to see
what was not even started
others passed away at ten
and then just the same, even at sixty
all shall be forgotten
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Write To Write To Write
I WANT TO WRITE TO WRITE TO WRITE
I write to write to write-
A poem must be more than a straining against Emptiness-
A poem must be more than making a name.
A poem should be food for the heart and soul and mind
It should make us feel the world with new love
It should make us want to live more and more
A poem should make us love life
It should be written for its readers
And not for its poet alone
A poem should make us want to be in this world
In greater beauty and greater love.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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There Is No Poem To Begin The Week With
THERE IS NO POEM TO BEGIN THE WEEK WITH
There is no poem to begin the week with
Emptiness is the beginning
I try to think
I try to listen to some internal rhythm
I write words down
My thoughts are simple and self- referential
The green- yellow light is there outside my window
The world is moving
Am I writing a poem or simply writing whatever sentences come into my mind?
I sometimes think poetry never stops being written within me
At other times I believe I am just ambitious and pretentious
Today this is the beginning
These lines these words
A poem to begin the week with?
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Waiting And Wanting To Write Something Else
WAITING AND WANTING TO WRITE SOMETHING ELSE
Waiting and wanting to write something else
The spirit of poetry comes to me
It does not say a specific subject or theme
It has no meaning in mind for itself
But it sings in me
It calls to me
It says ‘now you have the music- let it flow’
And I write it down now
Not as if it is my poem or your poem or anyone’s poem
But only words which God is kind enough to give me
As God has given me so much else which I can be grateful for
A poem to You then
Who have so many poems
And need not my poem
Thank You God My Father.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Poem About The Poem About The Poem
THE POEM ABOUT THE POEM ABOUT THE POEM
The poem about the poem about the poem
Written in dream
And forgotten in sleep
Comes back to me slowly now
As if it had been away on a long long journey
And is reluctant to come home-
I write it
But it really writes me
And when I try to make sense of what it means
It tells me its ambiguities
Are more important and interesting
Than my clarity-
The poem about the poem about the poem
Written now
May not be a poem about a poem about a poem at all
But may merely be my own playing with words
Which take the place in my life
Of really living-
A poem about a poem about a poem?
Surely this is a mysterious thing
If it exists at all.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Every Poem I Write Calls To Another Poem
EVERY POEM I WRITE CALLS TO ANOTHER POEM
Every poem I write calls to another poem
I mostly do not write -
And all the poems I do not write
Appear sometime later
In poems I try to write later-
And nothing I do is not connected
To something else I do or do not do
As this poem too is connected with a trip to the stars
No human being will ever take.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Write A Poem And Immortalize Yourself
Write a poem and they'll
Read your masterpiece for
The next five hundred years!
Write a fabulous poem and they'll
Know who you are!
Write a great majestic superlicious
Poem and immortalize yourself!
Kings and presidents live and they
Die to be the footnotes of History!
But if you write a superb poem
They'll call you the immortal
Beloved of your generation!
Write the poem of the century
And you will speak in proverbs
With the gods!
poem by Ngaka Motaung
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If I Had A Poem Now
IF I HAD A POEM NOW
If I had a poem now
The light of the morning
Would be true light.
But the lines I have just written
Are not strong enough.
The light is still the light
And a new day
Is still a new day
The poem is perhaps
Somewhere else
Later.
So why do I write this,
And call it a poem now?
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Breed
I don't care. I don't care. I don't care.
I don't care. Care if I'm old. I don't mind.
I don't mind. I don't mind. I don't mind. Mind.
Don't have a mind. Get way. Get way. Get way.
Get way. Way from your home. I'm afraid. I'm afraid.
I'm afraid. I'm afraid. Afraid of a ghost.
Even if you have. Even if you need.
I don't mean to stare. We don't have to breed.
We can plant a house. We can build a tree.
I don't even care. We could all three.
She sad. [x8]
song performed by by Nirvana from Nevermind
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Not a Poem Poem
A Not a Poem Poem
I will not write a poem
For I am not a poet
I cannot makes things rhyme
I’ve tried for quite some time
So will I write a poem?
NO!
I can’t write poetry
I’ve tried to all my life
Once, I tried to write a poem
About a husband and his wife
It sounded really silly
So I crumbled it up into a ball
That’s why I decided
That I couldn’t write poetry at all
Am I gonna write a poem?
NO!
Well, I’ll try to write a poem
But it will be really bad
It will be absolutely lousy
It will be completely horrible
It won’t be up to snuff
People will say, “Who wrote this stuff? ”
Will my poem be good?
NO!
Can I write a poem?
NO!
Will I write a poem?
NO!
Well, what do you know! ? !
I wrote a poem!
And it’s a pretty good poem, too!
I guess I can write poetry if I try
The next time I’m asked to write a poem,
Will I say no?
NO!