A Day In Your Lifetime...
make a day
like an embroidered
handkerchief
personalized for your
favorite kid
the colors mix
blue sky
golden sunrise
green fields of hay
shimmering
glossy streams
at the left side
there is a red breasted bird
chirping
all silk
smooth so smooth like
your love.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Gliding In The Air
A bird is wrestling the wind with its feathers,
Even then the flight is smooth, as smooth as the air.
Best of the eagles are against the flight of others,
Eventually they look like a mouth, as smooth as the air.
A strange spectacle has been captured in the rain,
After a bird, not reptile, does fly south, as smooth as the air.
When strangers bespeak a multifarious journey through the air,
I gather it is more than just levitation or youth, as smooth as the air.
I love the young journey to the east,
A happy rhythm up north, as smooth as the air.
Why do we hesitate to look powerful?
When we glide in the sky, as smooth as the air.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
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Mandolin
Oh Mandolin, oh mandolin
Waiting in the dark
Centuries passed down upon
Your smooth Venetian skin
Memories oh memories
Lay stains upon your heart
When lovers dance into the trance
You weaved by candlelight
Oh I saw a sunrise like never before
As mandolin played I cried for more.
Oh Mandolin, oh mandolin
Waiting in the dark
Centuries passed down upon
Your smooth Venetian skin
Incessant sound, incessant sound
That stirs the young and pure
Incestuous I kiss my hand
And play the calling drum.
The lover cried into the silk
Many years ago
Your voice laid comfort down upon
His European skin.
Oh I saw a sunrise like never before
As mandolin played I cried for more.
Oh I saw a sunrise like never before
As mandolin played I cried for more.
Oh I saw a runrise likenever before
As mandolin played I cried for more
Oh Mandolin, oh mandolin
Waiting in the dark
Centuries passed down upon
Your smooth Venetian skin.
song performed by by Spandau Ballet
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Blue Butterfly
blue butterfly
so blue fluttering alone
hovering on my yellow green leaf
and stopping for a while
on my shiny, brown twig
tell me if i am smooth
just tell me if
if am good
then leave
blue butterfly
do not ask if my heart is real
do not ask if you can have it
i do not have a heart anymore
for you see i am just this
tree, this twig, this leaf
but blue butterfly
if ever i have a heart
please
do not ask about it
i give it to no one
i am smooth
i am too good
to be owned by
someone
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Color of Life (a written picture)
Blue spruce
- in a green garden
Black bird
- above a yellow field
Brown hawk
- against a red canyon
White cloud
- within a blue sky
Purple silouette
- leaning upon an orange dusk
All the colors
of the earth
And all the colors
of those that live therein
Are all the colors
of all of Life.
poem by Smoky Hoss
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Green Bird, Golden Bird.
A tired green bird flew a very long journey,
Came to a stop in a beautiful valley.
There were many birds of all colours singing and playing,
Among them he saw a beautiful golden bird,
Her feathers shining in the bright sunshine,
And her voice echoed melodiously.
Within a short time the green and golden birds were close friends,
They knew each other deeply by heart,
Passing the days, flying from valley to valley,
And resting from tree to tree.
Then one sad day, golden bird must return,
She too had flown from across the vast ocean,
Even though it broke the green bird's heart,
But he was willing to let go, and before she left, .. he asked;
Golden bird, have I full-filled my promises to you?
That I would never hurt you,
That I would protect you with my life,
That I would share my provisions with you,
That I would make you happy and smiling always!
Is there any single word to describe all these?
Golden bird,
I will pray for your lasting happiness,
I will never forget your overflowing kindness,
You have nested permanently in my heart…and lastly,
I dream for us to be able to fly together again,
in unimaginable beautiful green heaven!
poem by Desert Life
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Realizations
it was not that long
ago when i want to give you
something smooth
as silk
or soft as a morning
glory petal
those which are
understandable and
clear
and acceptable
it is like a sculpture of
a chair
edges smooth
well defined
ends
or a baby with a smile
as real as
bow and arrow
but time makes us
strange
and make us pretend that
we understand everything
everything
there is something
that justifies our age
and that is when
we begin to accept the unreal
and embrace
the absurd as though they are
our genitals
they are here
and we become a part of them
without any
questions asked
and then we become as happy
as the breeze of the sea
early one morning
the reasons become accessories
and then finally
they are nothing but left-overs
that we feed
to the dogs unfed for days
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Encounter
Those who have touched it or been touched by it
Or brushed by something that the vine has brushed,
Or burning it, have stood where the sly smoke
Has touched them-Know the meaning of its name.
The leaf is smooth. Its green is innocence.
A clean, unblemished leaf, glossy when young.
A leaf the unobserving might overlook
And the observing find too prosperous.
I've seen a vine of it so old and crooked
It held a hen-coop in its grip, the stalk
Thick as a man's wrist. There it had grown,
Half out of sight, permitted, undisturbed.
Strangers to it, who on a autumn road
Have found a vine that swept a tree like fire
And gathered it barehanded and brought it home
For color, seldom gathered it again.
Some are immune and some have thought they were
And some, ever so cautiously with gloves,
Finding that it grew to near their homes,
Have tried to root it out and have succeeded
Except that something from the vine fastened
Upon their flesh and burned, and in a year
Or two the vine itself was there again,
Glossy and green and smooth and innocent.
My neighbor's cow grazing beside the road
Munches with joy (and almost with a smile)
The salad of its leaves, transmuting them
Into sweet milk that I will drink tomorrow.
poem by Robert Francis
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In His House Of Standard Things
to make perhaps an impression of what is beautiful
he lets me in his house
he gives me some drinks and he begins to tell me
what indeed is beautiful
he chooses his colors
mostly green with whites embedded like pearls
on blue green seaweeds under a deep blue sea
he chooses the shapes that fit
mostly spherical and embossed
he likes static things like sculptures of the
busts of great men that he adores
light is not as bright as he wants it to be
more of dusks and twilights
for he does need not so much light to make his life visible
he likes the touch of silk and threads
he adores the gentleness of the wind
exquisitely plucked from a dawning breeze
and then after i have seen them all
he asks me to leave
it is a matter of simply having me in
for a showroom
a lecture on what is beautiful
how i wish to be back in that house again
green and white and shades of these two colors
but it is over
and the house has since been flown to the sky
and its doors and windows closed
and the door bell
had since been concealed with a thick wall
and the gate is locked with steel bars
well, for wherever he is
and whether his house was real or not
let me say, (and that i really forgot)
thank you sir
tomorrow, i will build a house of my own
but it will not be green and white
i will choose the pastel orange side of things like the sunset of my life
and some reds and pinks for the love of my life
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tides of the Latter Rain
The high tides sweep the soul
Washed with golden branches of joy
Ships of Orpheus sail
Decadence has blended
We can be Holy
Your silk is smooth as kisses
Great wet kisses of magnolia serpents
Blue green sea with bright waves
Prayer rises like ancient fire
Time is a muse of Eve
I am the walls of agates
Rocks cleansed by the tide
Eagles come again to my dreams
Your rings are wet
You think of me like a sword
You are a child of the prophet Joel
The tides of the latter rain come again
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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For a Daughter Who Leaves
A woman weaves
her daughter's wedding
slippers that will carry
her steps into a new life.
The mother weeps alone
into her jeweled sewing box
slips red thread
around its spool,
the same she used to stitch
her daughter's first silk jacket
embroidered with turtles
that would bring luck, long life.
She remembers all the steps
taken by her daughter's
unbound quick feet:
dancing on the stones
of the yard among yellow
butterflies and white breasted sparrows.
And she grew, legs strong
body long, mind
independent.
Now she captures all eyes
with her hair combed smooth
and her hips gently
swaying like bamboo.
The woman
spins her thread
from the spool of her heart,
knotted to her daughter's
departing
wedding slippers.
poem by Janice Mirikitani
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A Picture Of Colors
A picture of colors
A purple forest of colors
A balloon of colors
A blue fantasy of colors
This is what our planet should be
A whirlwind of colors
A white world of colors
A resting place of colors
A red hideaway of colors
This is what it should look like
A ‘yes' world of colors
A yellow rainbow of colors
A graced hill of colors
A green meadow of colors
An overflowing basket of colors
An orange bowl of colors
This would be a perfect place
The Colors Of The Rainbow
Rainbow colors make
me feel so happy
It reminds me of good
things that happened
in the past
The colors of the rainbow
are colors that are
marvelous
Red, Orange, Yellow, Green
Blue, Indigo and Violet
Are the beautiful colors
of the rainbow
These colors are the
good nice colors
The rainbow colors
come into the sky
after it rains
The colors are something
that when I see I
Remember the
Promise that God
did
poem by Noralis Almonte
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Chirping Bird
chirping bird chirping bird
chirp no more
the sun has come
and it is time for you to sing
chirping bird sing
chirping bird sing a song for the sun
it has come
to give you the clouds and the air and
the song for you to sing
chirping bird chirping bird
sing with the sun
sing that song for me
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Over The Hills And Far Away
A LITTLE bird flew my window by,
'Twixt the level street and the level sky,
The level rows of houses tall,
The long low sun on the level wall;
And all that the little bird did say
Was, 'Over the hills and far away.'
A little bird sang behind my chair,
From the level line of corn-fields fair,
The smooth green hedgerow's level bound
Not a furlong off--the horizon's bound,
And the level lawn where the sun all day
Burns:--'Over the hills and far away.'
A little bird sings above my bed,
And I know if I could but lift my head
I would see the sun set, round and grand,
Upon level sea and level sand,
While beyond the misty distance gray
Is 'Over the hills and far away.'
I think that a little bird will sing
Over a grassy mound, next spring,
Where something that once was me, ye'll leave
In the level sunshine, morn and eve:
But I shall be gone, past night, past day,
Over the hills and far away.
poem by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
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20
a pen that you just keep
but you have no time using,
an outmoded cell phone
that you are not willing to give up,
a creaky bed, a rusty pin,
a handkerchief with an embroidered
name of your someone special
a old diary, a tiny wild flower
between the pages of your
favorite book, locks of hair,
what do i really need these things for?
ah, memories, rotten memories,
so sweet still.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rotten Memories
a pen that you just keep
but you have no time using,
an outmoded cell phone
that you are not willing to give up,
a creaky bed, a rusty pin,
a handkerchief with an embroidered
name of your someone special
a old diary, a tiny wild flower
between the pages of your
favorite book, locks of hair,
what do i really need these things for?
ah, memories, rotten memories,
so sweet still.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Winter Pansies
Winter pansies, what a sight!
You do not shrink from the cold at night.
In fact you welcome it
Do you not?
I plant you in my favorite spot.
Your colors so vibrant to my eyes
you are winter's colorful prize.
Yellows, violets and whites
make me smile.
I know you're here for just a while.
'Twas not for you what would I do
until those winter days are through?
Your petals are a velvety touch,
so soft and smooth.
Winter pansies you've come to soothe
my soul.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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The Song
When I would sing of crooked streams and fields,
On, on from me they stretch too far and wide,
And at their look my song all powerless yields,
And down the river bears me with its tide;
Amid the fields I am a child again,
The spots that then I loved I love the more,
My fingers drop the strangely scrawling pen,
And I remember nought but nature's lore,
I plunge me in the river's cooling wave,
Or on the embroidered bank admiring lean,
Now some endangered insect life to save,
Now watch the pictured flowers and grasses green;
Forever playing where a boy I played,
By hill and grove, by field and stream delayed.
poem by Jones Very
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