A Boring Day
as he opens the window
there is only the shadow of leaves on the trees
on a gray background
it is twilight, midway between night and day
sounds of a cold wind from the forest
the rooster crows and some chirping birds
you sit and gaze through the window
light comes in
this happens everyday and there is nothing significant
after 49 years, and this time a hole is bored inside your heart
you fear that love is gone.
that the birds do not chirp musical notes
the wind much colder now and you shiver
light seeps in trickles like rain on your wrinkled skin
it is the same morning, and it will be same mornings all over again.
you do not move. You let time go and your hands are frozen.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Abstraction Fo The Word Chirp....
i hear birds chirping
early morning
on those trees
clouds arrive, light
spreads,
green becomes too green
in the fields of
life,
i hear birds chirping
sweet to my ear
i give it priority
abstract. delet morning
move out clouds from the picture
double click green fields
focus on life
delet birds
add volume to chirping
it is all chirping now
just chirping
chirping chirping
the essence of chirp.
i have abstracted it from
everything else.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Certain Preference On Early Mornings...
sometimes forgive me
but i do not like to hear bird chirping by my window
on early mornings for honestly i prefer
the silent sounds of the wind
from the sea,
and so when i hear those chirping birds
perching on the tree
those still feeding their fledgelings
i exercise that right of having to close my
glass windows
preferring once again
the privacy of my room and the exclusion of the
outside world
by the curtains and then i begin to sip my coffee
reading a poem
listening to the words seeping like rain to the
hair of my own soul.....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Love Of Light....
upon the window of trees
i rest my weary eyes, the aches dissipate on the leaves
my forehead rests on the hands of the wind,
i lean upon the walls of this house
the comfort zone of the mind
the roof beats like a heart and opens its breast
to the soft touches of the clouds
happier in blue
and then the black birds come with the sweeter sounds
of the flapping of their wings
how happy is this state
of my soul
sitting upon the friendly bone of my body
the light of the sun
lands upon my hair
i am as always and will always be
its respecter and
friend.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Time Is Too Short For Sadness
a leaf falls on the ground
the poinsettia turns brown
from red just a week ago
the snow melts and the
sun sets for another day
the rain stops falling
it cannot be forever
nothing lasts forever
happiness like a guest
sleeping in your room
only for a night or two
and takes the road on
the following morning
transfering to another
place another time
a bird with bleeding heart
stops for a while on your window
and gazes at you with pity
the wind cannot stay longer
it has no love story to really tell
these boring sad tales about
love unrquited about love lost
and never recovered
i have no more ears for them
another seed of the peanut
grows, sprouting to see a
beautiful morning sky
you see all these changes and
locomotions of wind, earth and sky
of man, his heaven, his earth
his heart, his legs, his muscle,
his skin, his mouth, his lips
his thighs, hair, his bulge
he is everyday growing for you
you ask what are these all about?
it is all about love and time and
temporalities, swift passing days
like that wind and bird on the window
it is about the irrelevance of sadness
they all gaze at you with pity
and they move on without sympathy
in haste reminding you: why waste?
why fret? why not sing the song of love instead?
why not munch, chew, swallow all desire?
i can feel your heart palpitating asking for more.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
My Mornings Here
in this sleepy town
where there is always rain
i thrive on the songs
of little birds
their notes chirping inside
my mind
i feed them grains of poetry
and they appear healthy
i grow some trees where
they nest and lay eggs of ideas
in this sleepy town
my burdens are light
my canvass is the darkness of the night
my hope is a star
hanging on the tree without leaves
a cocoon opens and gives birth
to another yellow butterfly
it flutters and finds a white daisy
and they kiss
i watch wrapped by the rays of the morning sun
i ponder if this will ever end
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
THE BLISS OF MY OWN SILENCE (revised)
in this place
the first thing that i hear every morning
is the song of the birds
on top of trees
as they prepare to leave
after a night's sleep
as i open my window
and light is still young like some eyes blinking
i wonder
what are these birds up to?
they do not build their nests here
they just come
spend a night and then leave and are back again
on the same hour of the another night
i try to ask more questions
that i myself have to answer
but then
something comes up within
the reasons do not really matter
it is their songs
the harmony with the wind
the joy of the trees
the bliss
of my own silence....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Bless Of My Own Silence....
in this place
the first thing that i hear every morning
is the song of the birds
on top of trees
as they prepare to leave
after a night's sleep
as i open my window
and light is still young like some eyes blinking
i wonder
what are these birds up to
they do not build their nests here
they just come
spend a night and then leave and are back again
on the same hour of the same night
i try to ask more questions
that i myself have to answer
but then
something comes up within
the reasons do not really matter
it is their songs
the harmony with the wind
the joy of the trees
the bliss
of my own silence....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Morning Time
Wind was blowing through the trees
I could hear the rustling of their leaves
The morning sun sneaking through the clouds
Birds singing morning sounds
For i love this time i say
Morning of a new day
I wonder what the day has in store
In the distance i hear the waves crashing the shore
For it is morning time and all is a buzz
From the depths of the oceans
To the skies above
Good morning morning i always say
My your a beautiful day
Maybe you might rain today
Your still beautiful anyway
The sombre breeze that blows around
The birds singing
As i spread my blanket on the ground
So i lay here looking into the sky
Motionless waiting and watching the world pass me by
A few drops of rain speckle my face
I would not give up being here for any place
By The Seaside : Twilight
The twilight is sad and cloudy,
The wind blows wild and free,
And like the wings of sea-birds
Flash the white caps of the sea.
But in the fisherman's cottage
There shines a ruddier light,
And a little face at the window
Peers out into the night.
Close, close it is pressed to the window,
As if those childish eyes
Were looking into the darkness,
To see some form arise.
And a woman's waving shadow
Is passing to and fro,
Now rising to the ceiling,
Now bowing and bending low.
What tale do the roaring ocean,
And the night-wind, bleak and wild,
As they beat at the crazy casement,
Tell to that little child?
And why do the roaring ocean,
And the night-wind, wild and bleak,
As they beat at the heart of the mother,
Drive the color from her cheek?
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Life Is So Beautiful
i step out as the door opens
the rain just stop its downpour
it is cold and the flowers are wet
and the grass glisten with drops
of water on its blade
the red rooster jumps from a tree
and flirts with a gray hen
i look to the sky and then
around the nearby hills
some birds fly towards the trees
a carabao grazes on the plain
deep within me i still want
more years, more years.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Rain Is Like A Man
the rain this early morning
has an accompanying wind
i look at them by the window
my inner world divided by a thick glass
the trees are swaying and some leaves
begin to fall like some kind of a dance
the rain like a man carries the wind
on his arms and the wind leans down
i catch a glimpse of how they passionately kiss
it is sad and lonely and then the rain stops
the morning sun comes and the leaves
are at the feet of the trees kind of wet with tears.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Summer's Here
The crackling of the fire,
The howl of the wind against my window,
The chirping birds in the night sky,
Makes me smile, happily,
But the death of the fire,
The wind just softly blowing,
And the silence of the birds in the night sky,
Makes me sad,
Because, winter is ending and summer is beginning.
poem by Sophie Shaw
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I Wonder Where You Are Tonight
Tonight my heart is sad and weary
Wonderin if Im wrong or right
I dream about you though youve left me
I wonder where you are tonight
Chorus:
The rain is cold and slowly fallin
Upon my window pane tonight
And though youre love was even colder
I wonder where you are tonight
Its spring, the birds are gaily singing
The trees are blossoming so sweet
No other love was quite so happy
No other love was so complete
Repeat chorus
Then came the dawn the day you left me
I tried to smile with all my might
But you could see the pain within me
It still lingers in my heart tonight
Oh, the rain is cold and slowly fallin
Upon my window pane tonight
And though youre love is even colder
I wonder where you are tonight
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Rain On The Window
(hicks / clarke / nash)
When I hear pitter-patter the rain on the window
Reminds of her
When I hear pitter-patter the rain on the window
It was raining hard
The trees looked bare the night I met her
She was wet her hands were cold
The wind blew through her hair
Though Id known her quite a long time
We were just good friends
So it didnt seem so strange
Inviting her back home
We sat by the fire
The flames brought out something in her
Melting all the cold
Projecting warmth I never knew
As the rain beat on my window
Did she understand
That in the glow of dying embers
Everything was planned
Pitter-patter pitter-patter pitter-patter pitter-patter
Pitter-patter pitter-patter pitter-patter pitter-patter
Pitter-patter pitter-patter pitter-patter pitter-patter
Pitter-patter pitter-patter pitter-patter pitter-patter
We made love later on that night
While the rain beat on my window
I cant forget the things that happened
While the rain beat down on my window
Next time I saw her
I knew she didnt want to know me
If I disappointed her
I think she should have told me
Cant she understand
I only tried to be a man
She made me feel so ashamed
Of everything I am
When I hear pitter-patter
The rain on the window
Reminds of her
song performed by by Hollies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Bliss Remembered....
a rose
in a white porcelain vase
on top of
a glazed
wooden table
showered with
the early morning light
from the laced
window
while you were
still sleeping soundly
in bed
two yellow birds
chirp
on the sill
of the window
i am at
peace
beside you
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Frozen
Frozen
By: Adam M. Snow
Memories frozen and gone,
like sands in broken time,
'gainst the blackest of dawn,
yet cold with no love sublime.
To be alone in ice of despair,
with hearts cold and frozen.
There's nothing left to bear,
for all who are chosen.
Like frost in the wind,
chilling a lonely being,
leaving nothing to mend,
like a ghost without seeing.
Dreams now cold like ice,
falling to pieces,
not once but twice,
as the days decreases.
What else is there to know,
with everything oh so cool?
Like being ghost in the snow,
and you being the fool.
All's now cold like a winter's night,
like little breezes dusk and shiver,
and with unpleasant delight,
with fear all is quiver.
Staring now out a hoar frost window,
alone, cold and wilted,
with your sufferings and woe,
waiting to strike you dead.
All's now cold hearted,
like frozen in ice,
as all's departed,
and you're the sacrifice.
poem by Adam M. Snow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
When the birds fly
When the birds fly
the mind opens its eye
the heart looks up to the sky
the birds fly.
The birds fly south
the ear opens its mouth
the nose sees summer
the kids they are playing out...
When the birds fly
we dream our words dont die.
Reborn with a babys cry
the birds fly leaving stars
they stay in the night,
we are the birds
we escape to the light.
poem by Daniel McCann
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Seasons
you know the seasons
how the horizon changes its background
light, fading, darkness coming, dusk and twilight
and morning and noon and night
we have embraced all these
how many times together?
the rain and the drought
the swollen river and the emaciated
trees and the falling of the leaves and the budding
and blooming and the seeding
over and over again
we are carried with the seasons
and we too carry all these changes in our hearts
not for just any reason
but that we must learn to love and be patient and be alive
do not tell me about death
for surely it will come by itself and we can do nothing about it
tell me about what you do
to make another one happy
no! do not tell me about how you make yourself happy
that is not our essence
we are meant for something else
we have a purpose
we did not come here by random
by sheer luck or the popping out of circumstances and chances
tell me for once
no! do not tell me why you are sad and lonely
i have all the reasons and i have known them all by heart and soul
tell me for once
why you failed to live up to the true nature of yourself
the ought
the categorical imperative
the seeking heart the loving and the tenderness of the caress
tell me why you have given up life and refuse to listen
to the palpitations of the heart
tell me no more about
the selfish longings of your mouth and tongue
the journey of your fingers
the watery nature of your hairs
tell me about a flame a flicker a ray of light
tell me about hope and desire to more
to be beyond the grasp of your hands
to be beyond the steps of your feet
tell me about the secret tunnel of your mind
and the light at the end
an exit a door opening a window with the wind
and then i shall also tell you about myself.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Pleas Of Participation
to be brief will mean
a little bit of choosing silence
rather than hush
or breathe
to be silent in the rhythm of
the breathing nostrils
to be still like a post
with a light on along the sidewalk
of the night of the city
to be nothing but a tree
to be not able to go with the wings of the wind
to be nothing but a rock
to be not able to splash with the water
to be a nail stuck inside the force of wood
to be a watcher of the birds
to be an ear merely hearing what sounds arrive
how can this be? when i have a set of feet
and hands
how can this be when my mind keeps on
beaming with thoughts?
only if i allow it
only if i allow it
shall i? shall i love you and kiss you? shall i make love with you?
shall i be the bed? the cover? and the window?
allow me to be a part of your life
allow me
will you?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Wind That Ever Blows
The wind that ever blows,
opens my heart's Rose.
The clouds on the face of Sun,
playing with wind and all over Run.
The chirp of sparrow makes me to feel,
gazing in the sky standing on my heel.
The wind that ever blows,
Opens my heart's Rose.
The Blue color of the Sky gives pleasure to my eyes,
like, wants to take me out from the world of lies.
The rustling of leaves makes me gay,
to stand up and with them play.
The wind that ever blows,
opens my heart's Rose.
This time I just want one,
The ALLAH EXALTED (GOD) and NONE,
and this time except HIM no one my feeling knows,
The Wind that ever Blows,
Opens my heart's Rose....
(SEEMA REHMAN)
poem by Seema Rehman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!