A Destroyed Niche
what we have here
are trees without leaves
upon these bald mountains
lay those fingers stretching
trying to hold the softness
of blue clouds
the rivers gone
what gazes us is this pool of stones
it is a scene of either
or,
we pack too
looking for another
more, wanting to escape
what we have destroyed
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Dream Of Dusk
feathery clouds scatter
like water color spatter
beyond are the blue mountains
near us are the twin silhouette of trees
at the left side is the moon
resting upon the shoulder
of a hill on this dreamy scene
everything blue and black
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I do not live in a world of flowers & clouds and mountains & rivers & brooks
I do not live in a world of flowers
I do not live in the world of blue clouds and green mountains and ricefields
I do not live in running rivers and stretching seas and clear brooks
Though I write about them
Though I miss the scent exuded by them in their kindness
Though I like the bees and butterflies that busy in their
Multicolored world with some rainbows and coolness
Of rain showers and warmth of sunshine so like
Paradise, so like the Eden of our ancient dreams,
But I do not live in the world of flowers
I cannot leave in the world of flowers
My land is this desert scorched by the noonday sun
My sea is this sand stretching from shore to shore
My outlook, my view is this misleading mirage
My clouds are these unresolved doubts and fears
And my air is this silence that only the dead can surmise.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Loch Katrine
Beautiful Loch Katrine in all thy majesty so grand,
Oh! how charming and fascinating is thy silver strand!
Thou certainly art most lovely, and worthy to be seen,
Especially thy beautiful bay and shrubberies green.
Then away to Loch Katrine in the summer time,
And feast on its scenery most lovely and sublime;
There's no other scene can surpass in fair Scotland,
It's surrounded by mountains and trees most grand.
And as I gaze upon it, let me pause and think,
How many people in Glasgow of its water drink,
That's conveyed to them in pipes from its placid lake,
And are glad to get its water their thirst to slake.
Then away to Loch Katrine in the summer time,
And feast on its scenery most lovely and sublime;
There's no other scene can surpass in fair Scotland,
It's surrounded by mountains and trees most grand.
The mountains on either side of it are beautiful to be seen,
Likewise the steamers sailing on it with their clouds of steam:
And their shadows on its crystal waters as they pass along,
Is enough to make the tourist burst into song.
Then away to Loch Katrine in the summer time,
And feast on its scenery most lovely and sublime;
There's no other scene can surpass in fair Scotland,
It's surrounded by mountains and trees most grand.
'Tis beautiful to see its tiny wimpling rills,
And the placid Loch in the hollow of a circle of hills,
Glittering like silver in the sun's bright array,
Also many a promontory, little creek, and bay.
Then away to Loch Katrine in the summer time,
And feast on its scenery most lovely and sublime;
There's no other scene can surpass in fair Scotland,
It's surrounded by mountains and trees most grand.
Then to the east there's the finely wooded Ellen's Isle,
There the tourist can the tedious hours beguile,
As he gazes on its white gravelled beautiful bay,
It will help to drive dull care away.
Then away to Loch Katrine in the summer time,
And feast on its scenery most lovely and sublime;
There's no other scene can surpass in fair Scotland,
It's surrounded by mountains and trees most grand.
The mountains Ben-An and Ben-Venue are really very grand
Likewise the famous and clear silver strand;
Where the bold Rob Roy spent many a happy day,
With his faithful wife, near by its silvery bay.
Then away to Loch Katrine in the summer time,
And feast on its scenery most lovely and sublime;
There's no other scene can surpass in fair Scotland,
It's surrounded by mountains and trees most grand.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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About Being Extrasensitive The Places Around You...
I SEE sparrows gathering
little pieces of leaves and
light husks
for the building of
their nests
it is time for laying eggs
this summer
when the winds are a little bit
colder
i see leaves falling
the trees getting bald
becoming like new fingers
under the sky
i see grass spreading
slowly turning brown
like muscovado sugar
i see mountains
where clouds hang like
smoke from pipes
of old men waiting
still on there
veranda
i see roads where old cars pass
leaving an eddy
of dusts
slowly settling down again
like a light brown mantle
of the breakfast
table
you should have seen me
how foolishly have i waited for you
in this old house
where we first met
many years ago
you should have felt how a poem like this
can be written
because waiting can be an agony
and without being extra sensitive to all that i see beyond all these longings
the horizon over there
the mountains and grass and roads running without ending
and eddies of dust of old cars that conk and honk
and winds that manipulate the helplessness of leaves
as cold as feelings of being
ruthlessly abandoned
without all these
life could have long surrendered
could have long ceased
like a calendar
on the last day of Christmas
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Where The Blue Mountains Lie
Some things we want are out of reach,
but I know where my dreams dwell,
far across the sea where the Blue Mountains lie
with their fingers touching the sky.
A world away from what I have,
a peaceful life in serenity hold
my dreams wait there for me
if I reach out and be bold.
Where the Blue Mountains lie
set against a mottled sky
where quiet is the order of the day
within the shadows of the mountains blue.
A place where my dreams
wait for me to gather them in
and start my life a new
under the shadows of the mountains blue.
14 June 2010
poem by David Harris
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Oh, Blue Blue Sky
As the wind blows
and leaves on the trees gently sway
I don't know why
but I just cannot help
to hold my head up high
and stare at you.
Oh, blue blue sky
why don't you come down
and play with me
together
with your clouds so white.
Come down and play with me
let me roll
let me slide on your back
and when we get tired
let me lie down
with your embrace.
Oh, blue blue sky
come play with me
the whole day long
untill your blue becomes black
and the stars shine again
in your darkness.
poem by Marites C. Cayetano
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When You Finally Have Nothing
the soil has gone barren
rivers run dry
blue clouds fade
the horizon is gray
your hands have nothing
and it is this time
when you can discern the
true color of
your surrounding
when your eyes show the
sleepless moment
you see them moving away
from you
you thank that moment
when the pool becomes crystal
clear
even the dry leaves
that leave sooner
shall tell the truth
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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There Are Reasons
there will always be reasons
as there are leaves from the trees,
why, this word never goes extinct,
it is famous, and always gets the
good ratings in the scoreboards
of our interrogative history,
why did you leave me? why did you
forsake me?
these are the top questions of
those who are in pain, of those
you have betrayed, and you
hide, wanting to grasp the most
convincing answer, like the leaves
of the trees,
falling, rotting, decaying, and
wanting to come up, rise
to the trunks, to the clouds
still wishing to explain, to exude
the sweet smell of humus,
death is sweet
decay is cool, in rotting
shall come the sweetest flavor of the soul.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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How To Deal With A Very Beautiful Disciple
she comes like a princess from the
a castle high up there on those blue clouds
descending from the sun
down to the mountains
and the rivers
and to this
pond
i am the grass, and she wants to lie down with me
so i can teach her about what, i ask, about poetry she says,
no there is no poetry with me for
i am the grass, and you signal the wind so you may leave at once
and be back to the arms of the heavens
but i think a while and change my mind for i am the grass
and i am a teacher of all mankind, those who want to die and be
covered with my hands, and those who want to stay and be
with my greeness, my softness and i in humility whispers to her
my princess, stay with me for a while, lie with me, and sleep with me
under the moon, the darkness of the night shall be our blanket,
my thick leaves of grass, your pillow,
i am the grass, i may not teach you what poetry is,
what i have is to spread
love and togetherness, and intimacy that i have with the soil
my secrets with the worms, my eternity
with what death has concealed from the eyes of your world.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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What We Are Now To Both Ourselves
we are two blue clips of the clothesline
we cling to a rope
hold on, hold on
lest we fall to the ground
behind us is this blur
of trees and leaves and twigs
above us the clouds
heavy with rain
then the shower begins
hold on, hold on to the rope
lest we fall to the ground
dead and then be gone
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Eagle and the Mole
Avoid the reeking herd,
Shun the polluted flock,
Live like that stoic bird,
The eagle of the rock.
The huddled warmth of crowds
Begets and fosters hate;
He keeps above the clouds
His cliff inviolate.
When flocks are folded warm,
And herds to shelter run,
He sails above the storm,
He stares into the sun.
If in the eagle's track
Your sinews cannot leap,
Avoid the lathered pack,
Turn from the steaming sheep.
If you would keep your soul
From spotted sight or sound,
Live like the velvet mole:
Go burrow underground.
And there hold intercourse
With roots of trees and stones,
With rivers at their source,
And disembodied bones.
poem by Elinor Morton Wylie
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It Rained So Hard In The Mountains
it rained so hard in the mountains
and the water ran
together toward the blue sea
a conquest
between brown and blue
i am looking.
the sea is parted.
brown is about fourteen meters.
and blue is driven away.
the trees are bald.
a coconut falls.
we wait. we see how
brownish things murk
the bluish shade of this world.
i am this Filipino.
I am brown. I am what
is this murkiness all about.
we parted.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Clouds
Clouds, the clouds diffuse a sad and somewhat somber hue;
Rain, the rain descends aslant from angry ashen skies;
Winds, the winds bemoan their loss of reins and calm control;
Shades, the shades appear suffused, alone in lurid haze;
Trees, the trees enshroud the eyes of misty brooding woods;
Leaves, the leaves desert their branches, falling one by one;
Birds, the birds intone a tune, a mourning monody;
Grass, the grass surrenders blades, impaled in truant winds;
Fields, the fields imbibe and quaff to quench an arid thirst;
Stones, the stones repulse the pearls, exploding tears of gloom;
Streams, the streams meander, hushed, to distant vapid shores;
Clouds, the clouds diffuse a sad and somewhat somber hue
poem by Terry O'Leary
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Hand
Clouds darken the plain.
From all sides, the mountains of the horizon move forward; the plain shrinks, crumpled into valleys that grow deeper. The three rivers become torrents that flow swiftly in their cavernous beds towards those dark spots where they meet: the cities.
Then the sun again.
The mountains move back to the distant circular horizon; the valleys disappear, and the three rivers flow placidly in their scarcely perceptible beds of luminous sands. The cities glisten with their crystal walls and the hard light is reflected from house to house along the glass streets. Men no longer drag their dark-blue shadows like long chains that rattled on the opaque cobble stones. Silence of light: frozen wines of sound. No wind stirs, sleepily coiled around the towers that are transparent stems bearing the white flowers of clouds which float, vehicles for our pure thoughts, like water-lilies on the surface of a stream until they fade into the blue depth of space.
poem by Edouard Roditi
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The Injustice
power occupies your place
puts up its throne
with glistening stones as crown
and the tail of the man ray
as scepter
you worship it
as it hits you not just once
but for as long as you live
until you die and then it leaves
everyone
as empty as the ground where
all the trees are uprooted
the soil all bald
the grasses all taken
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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When we reach the mountaintop
3000 steps up
we climb
we take the rope
beside a cliff
we keep our feet secure
we keep our grip strong
climbing this trail
toward the mountaintop
when we reach there
both of us
we see the whole city
cars running like ants
on its belly
people walking like
small worms
the sun like a bulb
the trees like some
feathers and the
other mountains
bald like brownies
the sea is so blue
from far
the horizon bold
like a departure
the boats sail away
to another island
the plane on a
touchdown on the
cemented pavement
near the shore
some green palms
on the river
look like leaves
of grass
some clouds we touch
cold to our hands
3000 steps up
one hour up to the sky
just to feel
this loneliness
we see what we want to see
we feel what we want to feel
then we go down again
without a word
for ourselves
too tired
we console ourselves
that was solitude
we shall now talk about.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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These Arms Of Mine
(otis redding)
These arms of mine
They are lonely
Lonely and feeling blue
These arms of mine
They are yearning
Yearning from wanting you
And if you, would let them hold, hold you
Oh how grateful I will be
These arms of mine
They are burning
Burning from wanting you
These arms of mine
They are wanting
Wanting to hold you
And if you, would let them hold, hold, hold you
Oh how grateful I will be
These arms of mine
They are burning
Burning from wanting you
These arms of mine
They are wanting
Wanting to hold you
And if you would let them hold, hold you
Oh what a night it would be
Come on, come on now baby
Ill be your woman
Just be my lover
I need me somebody
Somebody to treat me right
Oh, I need your arms
Loving arms to hold me tight
I want to know if you want me, need me, love me, be mine tonight
song performed by by Tiffany
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Your Dance My Love
you are so beautiful when you start to dance
when all the leaves fall off from your arms
naked, i have seen everything that your earth has to offer:
your hills and trees and forest, your creeks and rivers,
your clouds and seas, your grass and flowers
i have seen them all and touched them
your hills i have climbed
your trees with sweet fruits
i have gathered them all
and bit and sucked and savored each sap and juice
its flesh and fiber
i have slept on your grass
i have smelled your flowers
i have gazed on your clouds and have taken the dive
on your seas
i have sailed on your rivers
i have bathed on your creeks
i have done everything for you to please you my love
yet why are your eyes so sad tonight?
you are like a moon fading in the dark
you are like the song of a bird dissolving in distance.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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On A Much Keener Awareness....
the poetess on the grass
offers her set of eyes to the cats
so they may begin to see
the beauty of her lines
when blinded she sees more
of those clouds and flowers
she feels more the waters of the rivers
the songs of the trees
the silence of the nights
those busy days
the ants stepping upon the softness
of the mounds
of sands
beside her feet....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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When He's In Love Again
the clouds are so blue
the sea so calm and
the night so serene
the leaves have forgotten
to say a rustle and the
skies are whiter
the mountains silent
the trees tall and dignified
the grasses crawl
with the usual determination
the birds are singing
and the grasshoppers are
jumping
inside him rages a very
sweet storm
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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