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On the rainy season
I see some tadpoles
On the pond
Near the house
When mother-in-law arrives
I hear all of them croaking
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Poem For Mother-in-law
On the rainy season
I see some tadpoles
On the pond
Near the house
When mother-in-law arrives
I hear all of them croaking
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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On Clear Pond
ON a clear pond
not far away from the house
there live two
frogs
who blend well in their
croaking
during the rainy season
contented on a lotus leaf
for a home
and few moths,
bugs and
flies for their
meals
they are happier on this
simple terms
together
there is no marriage
for them to
boast
but it is still death
that does them part
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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For Mama
i never believe them
about the story. about the clinic and the
handsome doctor.
it was a remote possibility
that i could have been
born there
because i have always loved
the mountain and the sea
and i have always the feeling
that the dove
still hovers in my heart
how can a scalpel
be the source of my name
when i am but a seed
of the rice thrown
in the muddy fields?
they have destroyed your
face and your eyes bleed
some tears.the damage cannot
be repaired. when the coffee
spilt its hot liquid on the carpet
the aroma has escaped
our senses.
the stain hides on the dark
blue colors of its thickness.
there are new flowers
that i have planted in your
old garden. the rocks are kept.
and the pebbles. and the
little pond and the tadpoles
swim to be croaking frogs
this coming rainy season
for you mama. and i have
began to learn to love the
songs of the rain.to dance
under them. and be all wet.
i don't mind anymore.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Segregation
to make myself special is a sad thing,
for i may then be segregated
away from you, and i cannot take in all the sadness
let me just be an ordinary frog on that clear pond
blessed by so much rain
croaking happily with you
i do not need so much land
neither the sun
for with you, the moon and the marsh
and the reeds
are good enough,
let us have this good time swimming together
beside the tadpoles
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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On The Pond
if i were to choose
whether
i be this flowering lotus
or the croaking toad
on the pond
i will choose
as a matter of compromise
both
a croaking flowering lotus
sitting like a toad then
splashing on the pond
pleasing everybody
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Most Of What I Have Is
Anger, bull anger, dragon anger
Tiger anger,
Strong anger of twisters,
For the one I truly and truly love,
The desert and the volcanic ash
The ungiving, the unyielding
It is like,
A dead pond
Murky, brackish water,
It is the dwelling of
A porcupine-fish, just that,
It does not even swim
Or tried learning the art
Of swimming
It is my pain
This is my pain that I painted
On a piece of paper
One dark line in black
At the end at the rightmost tip
Is the red
Tip of iron-hot jagged-edge acetylene torch fire
It is aimed in my head in my heart
It is anger
That is angry to itself
And so everything in this pond dies,
The moss, the lilies,
The tadpoles the catfish the last catfish
Of this pond
Died the other day the frogs Stopped croaking since
The toads found warts on their throats
It is anger
A blizzard
Burst my eardrums
She may sing the songs
Of love to my deaf
Ears
Perforated Eardrums of anger
It is anger That keeps me alive
Its only desire Is to kill This anger this looseness
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Rains Have Come
Dear Mom, send my dad across; the rainy season has come.
Oh, dear daughter, how can I?
Your dad's too old; the rainy season has come.
Dear Mom, send my brother across; the rainy season has come.
Oh, dear daughter, how can I?
Your brother's too young; the rainy season has come.
Dear Mom, send my uncle across; the rainy season has come.
Oh, dear daughter, how can I?
Your uncle's too dandy; the rainy season has come.
poem by Amir Khusro
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One More Rainy Day
Changes, visible changes
Sky looking so forlorn
It looks like the worlds been born
On one more rainy day
Trying to see the sunlight
My hearts crying out loud
I try to see through the clouds
On one more rainy day
One more rainy day
Once again my mind is grey
This is what a rainy day can do
One more rainy day
One more rainy day
Sun starts shining on through
New day a day with you
Its strange what sun can do
On one more rainy day
One more rainy day
Once again my mind is grey
This is what a rainy day can do
One more rainy day
One more rainy day
song performed by by Deep Purple
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rainy Day Song
Written by: neil diamond
Can you hear my rainy day song
Calling from the street below
Baby, since Ive been without you
Well, its the only song I know
And I keep hearing rainy day songs
Tapping on my window sill
Some that soon wont be forgotten
Some that probably never will
Say, I know you never did believe in rainbows
But hey, you know the sun is somehow gonna shine
And babe, we only have to look and we can find it
If we want to, if we need to
Its just another rainy day song
Way beneath the sorry sky
And when I try to understand it
I only end up asking why
But still I hear those rainy day songs
Calling out to me and you
I only hope that you can hear them
cause rainy days are made for two
Say, you know theres always gonna be a rainbow
And hey, you know that sun is always gonna shine
Come on babe, we only have to look and we can find it
If we want to, if we need to
Can you hear that rainy day song
Its such a lost and lonely sound
But baby when I have you near me
Rainy days cant get me down
Babe, I need to have you near me
Cause rainy days, they get me down
Babe, I got to have you near me
So rainy days wont come around
song performed by by Neil Diamond
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I can still recall old Mister Barnslow getting out every morning and nailing a fresh load of tadpoles to the old board of his. Then he'd spin it round and round, like a wheel of fortune, and no matter where it stopped he'd yell out, 'Tadpoles Tadpoles is a winner' We all thought he was crazy. But then, we had some growing up to do.
Jack Handey in Deep Thoughts
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A house can't be built for the rainy season that is past.
The Yellow Frogs
On this rainy day
The yellow frogs are croaking
To find their playmates.
poem by Asif Andalib
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A toad
why cry all alone?
get out and meet somebody
the frogs are croaking
for companion, why arent you?
get out, and get to know somebody
anybody is better than nobody
even a toad waddling in the pond
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Frog's Life
Once upon a lily pad,
There sat a mother frog
Hungry for some food,
She hopped from log to log
Eating flies and skeeters,
All throughout the day
Worms weren’t quite as good,
But she ate them anyway
She found a comfy spot,
And laid a bunch of eggs
Then hopped away from the nest,
With a push from her back legs
The eggs turned into tadpoles,
That swam around the pond
They started growing legs,
And turned into tiny frogs
poem by Chris Marion
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Its Croaking Shows Its Presence! !
The croaking echoes through the neighborhood,
the blasting croaking echoes as braying,
sometimes as barking, another time as whistling,
the sounds of croaking may crack our heads,
in the tropical region where it rains,
every other day and musical begins,
with the mono syllabic cricket,
house lizards join them occasionally,
The frogs repeats one day and one night,
as the Native American folklore says,
brother sun agreed and the bear hibernated,
the frogs repeat one day and one night,
it may not be alive the next day,
unnecessary croaking,
is being heard by something,
that slithers and hungry,
its croaking showed its presence,
right to the mouth of that reptile.
In the middle of the meetings,
some of us croak to show our presence,
Croak the wrong information,
out of our peanut brains,
sometimes we croak in the viva verse,
mostly something the invigilators unaware,
fail us then and there,
keeping quiet, sometimes good,
people assume that we know many things,
Politicians croak,
clergies croak,
our teachers croak,
our parents croak,
our children croak,
you and I croak,
our nature make us to croak,
most of the times we get caught,
because we croak a lot.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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To The Frog Clan
This shall be the symbol of my clan
The slime of my ancestors
For those whose claim for life and prosperity
Is as prolonged as the length of the list found in the clan’s tree
This frog is your frog
It is part of the multitude
Taking the power of the ten rivers
Its croaking
Is the uproar against the loudest blur of the reigning rains
You are the frog like us
From water to land to grasses to marshes to trenches
Of this earth
We shall remain as the true descendants of the great frog
By our nature
We shall not go hungry
By the power of the longest tongue
By the secret poisons of our skins
By our rounded views
By our slime
By the strong clinging of our ties
We shall all be saved
From the great flood
May our dead ancestors
May the great frogs
Lead us to the most secure pond of our future lives
And may the frog in us
Give us the great leap
The great jump
Taking us to our dream
Our clear cool waters
Teeming with mashing marshes
And there
Dear loving frogs of this clan
Let all our croaking be one.
Let all our croaking be true.
Let our croaking be love.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Tadpoles swarm in the Graduate's Pond
He quitted the Socioeconomic further studies
And looked for a job.
His raving resume nobody accepts
And he decided to open a Tadpole farm
At the backyard isolated pond.
He breeds the Tadpoles
And when they become frogs
He sell them to the Scientists
They do research for various matters.
I heard the downright cry of dozy frogs
That's similar to Slaughter House screams!
It's really breathtaking
How the ridiculous educated Man turns to be a criminal?
I read the Encyclopedia and stumble in the Socioeconomic gap!
*How great a Simpleton among the Intellectuals?
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Death of My Childhood Place
I miss the place so much
where I could climb trees
ate star apples and green mangoes
from fruit trees near our house
bath in the river
made a raft
out from banana or bamboo trunk
go boating with my brother
and enjoyed swimming in the river
Where we made a makeshift dam
got some catfish
or played with the tadpoles
and shooed away the frogs
and on rainy day
played with my childhood friend
creating pots and anything from the mud
forming clay vases and figurines
and enjoy the drizzles of the rain
But father sold the place
and we moved to an urban zone
where trees don’t bear fruits
and fruits are not on trees but in groceries.
and clays are beneath the cemented road
and during rainy days
people will not go out
and everyone seems so busy on
their business and their job
so in grief of my childhood place
and gone with it is my childhood stage
poem by Champs Ulysses Cabinatan
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Another Rainy Day In New York City
Another rainy day in new york city
Softly sweet, so silently it falls
As crosstown traffic crawls
Memories in my way in new york city
Tender, tough, too tragic to be true
And nothing I can do
City workers cheer
The taxis disappear
Another rainy day in new york city
Another spacey stay in new york city
High up in an overpriced hotel
The view is really swell
Windy, wet and gray in new york city
No one here I really want to see
Old friends and family
So suddenly serene
The air is fresh and clean
Another rainy day in new york city
Its another rainy day
Just a rainy, rainy day
Its another rainy day
Just a rainy, rainy day
song performed by by Chicago
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mother Of Ccccccccconcept
truth about mothers is layers of hands running on the value of wine-like experiences seived by the units of love
bridges over troubled waters gresses are shouting liberty
'I don't understand the world', said a teenager.
nothing is as important as a man with a mother
the first rain taught me how to be happy in life, my son
a cat in the rainy day is like a man in the first of a stranger's house
no house number, no bridge name, no channel number
you are on the way to the virtual reality
kisses of mother falling from the sky of translated restaurants