A Drift Wood Wants To Tell A Story
a pale white driftwood
on beige sands
wants to tell a story
the river has a mouth
the sea has a tongue
the island has a face
but all of them
have no ears.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A View
driftwood
with seven twigs
on the shore
as clear as glass
is the water
and all stones and pebbles
are visible
above
blue skies
so blue that the white cotton clouds
appear like sperm cells moving
impregnating
an earth-sky womb
and then
it rains
the water rises
the drift wood again taken
floating
gently to another shore
another island
of white sands
a coconut tree towers
to reach a waft of cloud
winds as cool as ice
sands slipping on the fingers
a leaf from a guyabano tree falls
on the mouth
of a sleeping woman
beside her
the man whose arms are enclosing
her throughout
the rainy night
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Beige To Beige
No songs on the stereo
That we could sing with anymore
No dance that I can do
That would not embarrass you
A sound bite here and there
With no reason for me to care
Chorus:
Its just beige to beige
Thats all it is these days
Little windows for you to crawl through
You just do whats expected of you
Its just beige to beige to beige
These days
Uniforms for this and that
To be in our club you must wear this hat
Charlies gonna look out for you
You just do what youre supposed to do
Youre gonna fit in here
Just like you should
Learn the rules and learn them good
Chorus:
Its just beige to beige
Thats all it is these days
Little windows for you to crawl through
You just do whats expected of you
Its just beige to beige to beige
These days
If you need a thought
Well give it to you
Our statistics show what we do is true
A world without color
Is a world without sound
A world to keep the rabble down
So close the deal, close the door
Forget about the colors that you knew before
Chorus:
Its just beige to beige
Thats all it is these days, yeah
Little windows for you to crawl through
And charlie gonna take care of you
Its just beige to beige to beige
These days
song performed by by John Mellencamp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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This Is A Discovery
i may not tell you
that in this island
where i take my
long walks in the
morning, i discover
something nice,
i am at home with
myself and i am happy
seeing the vastness
of the white sands
white cotton clouds
resting on high cliffs
trees on top and birds
and a light tower
i think of myself
as another island now.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Human Sea
Waking up in the night
The fear comes down
Oh
And here I go again with the insecurities
Doubts are running themselves all over me
Help
Help is on the way
She dont have to say
Anything
She reaches out her hand
I know she understands
All of me
Nobody loves me like she
Just another face in the human sea
But she gives me a reason to believe
I myself am an island in the human sea
And I know I am never gonna leave
I was running like a river
Running like a river before
Standing on the beach
Of the human sea
I feel so absolutely insignificant
One more dreamer in a city of heartbreak
Help
Help is on the way
She dont have to say
Anything
She reaches out her hand
I know she understands
All of me
Nobody loves her like me
Just another face in the human sea
But she gives me a reason to believe
I myself am an island in the human sea
And I know I am never gonna leave
I was running like a river
Running like a river before
I dont want to seem too dependent
But I guess it already shows
By the short hairs I will follow
Every where that she goes
Just another face
Help
Help is on the way
She dont have to say anything
I know she understands
She reaches out her hand to me
Nobody lover her like me
Just another life in a human sea
Im just the next one looking for an answer
Take your partners hand for the human dance
Wont you lead
You know Im not a dance
Just another face to the human sea
But she gives me a reason to believe
I find myself an island in the human sea
And I know Im never gonna leave
I was running like a river
Running like a river
I was running like a river
Running like a river before
Just another face in the human sea
But she gives me a reason to believe
Find myself an island in the human sea
And I know Im never gonna leave
I was running like a river
Running like a river
I was running like a river
Running like a river before
song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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God's Gifts
GOD gave man two ears so that he might hear
Man's truth and also man's lies,
Then also to help man find his way
GOD then gave man two eyes,
Man was then given just one mouth
And also just one tongue
So he would tell the truth and not a lie
And he was gifted that, when he was young.
Two ears for man so he can hear everything
And two eyes for him to see without fail
One mouth and one tongue for the truth
But still from all these gifts; man fell.
poem by Randy McClave
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Bedroom PIcture
I saw you at the shore...!
Your barefeet were seaweed bound--
Pants rolled up to your ankles--
While the sun-was pounding down;
Driftwood and sand dollar tokens strewn...
Admidst a love tragedy...
Sands white grains defined you...
And your impossibility! ;
You with your 'Birds Eye View'...!
Upon someones kitchen of lament...! !
The wind offers you echo ears...
But be sure-its not heaven sent! ;
Invasion of our privacy--
Through sight and through sound...
Will be swallowed up by the Deep!
And by the seaweed you are forever bound;
The Golden Rule
July,2010
poem by Theodora Onken
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Human
Waking up in the night
The fear comes down...oh
And here I go again with the insecurities
Doubts are running themselves all over me
Help
Help is on the way
She don't have to say
Anything
She reaches out her hand
I know she understands
All of me
Nobody loves me like she
Just another face in the human sea
But she gives me a reason to believe
I myself am an island in the human sea
And I know I am never gonna leave
I was running like a river
Running like a river before
Standing on the beach
of the human sea
I feel so absolutely insignificant
One more dreamer in a city of heartbreak
Help
Help is on the way
She don't have to say
Anything
She reaches out her hand
I know she understands
All of me
Nobody loves her like me
Just another face in The Human Sea
But she gives me a reason to believe
I myself am an island in The Human Sea
And I know I am never gonna leave
I was running like a river
Running like a river before
I don't want to seem too dependent
But I guess it already shows
By the short hairs I will follow
Every where that she goes
Just another face
Help
Help is on the way
She don't have to say anything
I know she understands
She reaches out her hand to me
Nobody loves her like me
Just another life in a human sea
I'm just the next one looking for an answer
Take your partners hand for the human dance
Won't you lead
You know I'm not a dance
Just another face to the human sea
but she gives me a reason to believe
I find myself an island in the human sea
And I know I'm never gonna leave
I was running like a river-ac
song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Song Of The Sea.
Here within the half-light 'tween the night and day
Upon the sands I lie, with thoughts that idly stirr'd
Seem, as in a dream, with life and death to play,
As o'er the sea there flits a pale white bird.
In my heart I hear it, the murmur of the sea,
Ah! and memories of other lives are stirr'd,
As somewise there came a mystic voice to me
As o'er the sea there flits a pale white bird.
Who but knows that in me is a ghost that hears
A voice it heard of old in the primeval word —
A memory so dim, it like a dream appears
As o'er the sea there flits a pale white bird!
poem by Robert Crawford
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Real Fright
Real frights the story of a maddening darkness,
It leaves your hands and your face real tight,
Your mind starts to wander while your body starts shaking,
Your mouth feels dry as your bones start aching.
You want to know the pattern thas has gripped your life,
Your heart starts pounding while youre breathing real fright,
A face chalk white that starts the sight,
Ears hear the sounds of real fright.
song performed by by Iron Butterfly
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Two Silent People, Dying
you are silent
more silent than the stars above us
this mountain of
sorrow does not know the songs of sighs
it is as silent
as you
more silent than all the stars above us
i join you in this silence and i take a journey far from you
my thoughts are wings and they will not use words as vehicles
from my mouth there will be no sound too
what are we contemplating for? i ask myself.
you think of death, i know, but you have not guessed what i am thinking
i am tired of death, let it come when it comes,
i am thinking of those tiny things in my life
how they happen, how time flies too fast
and i am here with you left behind it like a hundred years
i go back to thinking about us bathing in the river
since we do not know how to swim we take hold of a driftwood
from nowhere
it teaches us how to swim
that driftwood from nowhere
and it is when that driftwood left us
that we struggle for our life
and then we have learned
how to drift, ultimately how to swim
we are here in the middle of this silent struggle
it is when it hurts best that we begin to learn how to think
how to think well more than the rest of those
who are not conscious of the shortness of the time left
it is here in the middle of our sorrow
that we become more intelligent, wisdom sprouts and grows
into a tree
in our heads, and we are soon carried to a height
where we see them all
away from us.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Tripping...
you go places
riding on a bus
transferring to a boat
sitting for a moment
on a port
seeing people disembarking
on a plank of wood
outside a launch
you see children lifted by their fathers
mothers with umbrella
sunny days
a line of green trees along the
seemingly endless road
more days to
circumnavigate an island
of white sands
night when you are alone with
everyone
staying for a while
checking their bags and
clothes
days are going fast
passing you by
on wish not to hold on any hour
you flow
like a river, yes always like a river
not a part of you wishing a clog
a barrier
you are like a rubber stretched
nothing snaps
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Anger
how to deal with you?
i ignore you like an
uninvited visitor.
but then you insist
that there is something
in you that is very urgent.
i face you
and i burst into one waterfall
from a very high cliff
after a heavy rain.
you turn into a driftwood.
and i become the raging waters
running
without direction.
the snakes and
crabs are taken
and i have no choice
but to sound like a roaring
lion.
i want to stop
but you do not have anymore
ears to listen.
you have become
my own ugly face
and i am afraid to see
the face of the
real mirror.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sometimes We Are Too Busy Despite The Free Time
along the white sands
on a sunny morning by the sea
i collect shells and
pebbles
there are too many of them
but only few are chosen
the only standard is that
'i like this' and there is no other more
and then you put all those few ones
in my pocket
and when i arrive at the cottage
i view them all atop the table
it is the viewing that keeps the mind busy
and so busy that it cannot listen
to each story that the pebble wants to tell
that the mouth of the shell wants
to say beautifully in a song
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Human Face
upon his face
the smile floats like
a gondola
on the River of
Venice
one can hear the
song of the
gondolier
the eyes of his face
are windows
opening because the
songs are
tempting
they are the eyes of
women
looking for love
the nose serves as
the only bridge
there
to connect the ears
and chin
in that atmosphere
of indifference
the princess is
the tongue
salivating
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Reasons
do not reason like a stone
staring at you asking for some
justifications about the flowing of a river.
Thoughs, plain thoughts. Nothing to argue
about how the feet must go, without the hands.
There is no sense. The head keeps dignity.
And the heart plans a revolt of an outburst
of red....more red, like a blend of carrots
and a squeeze of oranges, and a roast
of red tomatoes. Taste. Buds. Tongue.
Splashes of blues and greens.
Strokes. Brushes of realities.
Blend. White and Black. Faceless.
You are a brick wall. Tinged. Tanned.
You pretend walking on the sea. You ask
for flight. This is the island of loneliness.
There is no boat. No bridges. Just hands
without fingers. Mouth without lips. Shine.
The moon above you. You sing. Blues.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sit By The River
Sit By the River
The dripping tap, ticking clock, the long nights
when unwanted memories surface on gloomy
waters, and my past creeps nearer and future
hides in a Saragossa mist, together they push
me nearer a non existence. Sad morning light,
rain falls like an old man’s tears when all ships
have sailed and he is stranded on the island he
shares with snakes and scorpions knowing they
will soon eat him. Driftwood in the sea of life,
I never was a master of my destiny, but I can do
a last brave thing, walk into the Savannah night
and eaten by lions or, with my luck, wolfed by
hooting hyenas, so I will stay where I’m, my
last act of cowardice, sit by the river and wait.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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The State Of Non-meaning
so many sands
long term plans
so many grains of sands
on the beach on the mind of man
oh, i guess
so many poems composed
each poem has become a grain of sands
so many grains
from my mouth
to my hands to my feet to the beach to the sands of time
in search for meaning
when actually there is none.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Off To Bangkok
off to bangkok
then to kuala lumpur
back to shanghai
on to Ho Chi Minh
proceed to Jakarta
and stop over
in Kota Kinabalu
we end up in Cebu
then have a
week of white sands
and blue sea and
clear white skies
in the island of Boracay
summer has come
i leave all sadness behind
and with you my love
how can i be so alone?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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River Death
River was
Running...
With water...
Water are
Nice too
Play with sands...
Trees...
Mountain rocks...
Swmming fishes...
Some time jump
With dive and swime...
Sun was see
Face at river water
Mirror...?
moon was
Click the eye
About
The river....
Animals are swimming
Birds also drinking...
People also
Swmming too
Wash the cloths...
River was
Every day run
Simply not sad...
At rainey time...
At winter time...
Summer time
River not run
Stop to stop
Death the river...
Sky cry...
With rain
Run the river...!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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One Day You Dissolve Into Whiteness...
a white car waits for you
at the white side of the road
you are in your white suit
white socks and white shoes
you are white yourself
pale lips and snowy face
dusty eyes, clear tears
falling down to your cheeks
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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