A Playhouse
glass angels
tin can soldiers
house of sticks
japanese cotton dolls
plastic miniature beds
bears and small trees
princess with laces
queens and kings with
their golden crowns
fantasy castles
children's hands
and chinky eyes
and the sounds of
their laughters
we mix truths with lies
we put gold in mud
we sew dirty rugs
with silver threads
our dreams laden
with some harsh realities
you and me
and some of those
not like us
hazy, and foggy
and too thin to be air
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
That Afternoon
i was there again
standing by the side of the old
glass windows
hazy because of the dust
it is hazy, hazy
the sea is linen white
the coconut trees as tall as they are very old
planted perhaps before the war
before the Japanese came
and ravished the spirits of our innocent people
i was there again
standing on a moment
always seeing
that rusty van parked
without its front wheel
nobody from there is asking
what is happening
it is hazy, as hazy as dusts
on that old glass window
then a black bird flies through
it breaking the thin old glass
into shattered pieces
the afternoon ended
on that sudden noise
i am telling you
i am not shocked because
i am not new to this
how can i be? i am as old and as
tall as that coconut tree
i am from this place
and i know each grain of sand
on the shore
of that white linen sea.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Granny's Angel
In my grand baby world she
Dream of pink butterflies and
Angel with golden wings playing
And singing sweet lullabies
She dream of sweet sugar plums
And lollipops dancing around her
Head
She dream of fairies, white doves
And pink butterflies
With wings tips of gold
Gold and silver dust sprinkling
Down as they open their wings
She dream of little fairies tickling
Little feet
Her joy shows as her laughter cries
Out
Bouncing around with little fairies
Playing and singing sweet lullabies
Her eyes of blue, as deep as the sky
Looking up at the golden half moon
Hanging so high
Stars of silver and golden threads flickers
Durning the night
Unicorns and fairies playing in a
Field of clovers
With pink ribbons and bows
She dreams of pink butterflies as she lay
In her crib sleeping
Dreaming of sweet nothings
Fairies, butterflies and little
Angels with unicorns in her world
As she sleeps in her little world
Where fantasy is true
Her little sisters and brothers
All angels in heavens
Where her world is all but a beautiful
Dream
As she grow and flourish to be a wife
A mother
And tell her stories to her children in
The future
Dedicated To My Grand Baby Miya
poem by Carolyn Sears
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Silver And Gold
Silver, silver and gold
Silver and gold, silver and gold
Ev'ryone wishes for silver and gold
How do you measure its worth?
Just by the pleasure it gives here on earth.
Silver and gold, silver and gold
Mean so much more when I see
Silver and gold decorations
On ev'ry Christmas tree.
Silver, silver and gold
Silver, silver and gold
Silver and gold
Silver and gold
Silver and gold
Wise men brought gifts to the mange I'm told
Mary was humble to see
Shepherds and kings there on bended knees
It's silver and gold, silver and gold
Feeling the world with their lives
Silver and gold how they shimmer on ev'ry Christmas night
On ev'ry Christmas night
Silver, silver and gold
song performed by by Vanessa Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Silver & Gold
Words and Music by Johnny Marks.
Silver, silver and gold
Silver and gold, silver and gold
Ev'ryone wishes for silver and gold
How do you measure its worth?
Just by the pleasure it gives here on earth.
Silver and gold, silver and gold
Mean so much more when I see
Silver and gold decorations
On ev'ry Christmas tree.
Silver, silver and gold
Silver, silver and gold
Silver and gold
Silver and gold
Silver and gold
Wise men brought gifts to the mange I'm told
Mary was humble to see
Shepherds and kings there on bended knees
It's silver and gold, silver and gold
Feeling the world with their lives
Silver and gold how they shimmer on ev'ry Christmas night
On ev'ry Christmas night
Silver, silver and gold
song performed by by Vanessa Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You know you've made it when you've been moulded in miniature plastic. But you know what children do with Barbie dolls - it's a bit scary, actually.
quote by Cate Blanchett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The royal, the regal versus the poet's realm
Of splendid thrones of gold
Of treasures manifold
Of jewelled caskets
Of lavish banquets
Of Sultans and Shahs
Of Emirs and rajas
Of kings and queens
Of rulers and emperors
Of sparkling crowns
or flowing gowns
Of their subservient stewards and obedient butlers
The times of minions pavilions and pages
Of stalwart squires and servile knaves
Of castles and palaces
of abounding gold and silver
in oestentatious regal splendour
Ah, the fanning maids in waiting
Yet to me only one thing worth noticing
The poet minstrels who came to sing
from afar for the queen and king
For I'd rather be a poet for kings
so to my tuneful verses swayed the kingdom
than I be the king of mere subjects
and be filled with regal boredom!
poem by S.zaynub Kamoonpuri
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I Write About
Fairy tales
golden rings
silver threads
magic things
life and such
all the hush
smiles and tears
o'er the years
spinning dreams
weaving threads
gold and silver
in my head
life's tapestry
sweet and true
threading a
needle with you
poem by Heather Burns
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Baguio city, a memory....
i remember
that coldness of December
we stayed
on top of that hill
below us
all fog
around us trees
foggy trees
the glass window
is hazy
the heat from the fireplace
gives
the warmth that we cannot
give
to each other
my mind played on the
waves of fire
when all the lights are closed
at midnight
i remember
i went out of my room
went outside the house
climbed the fence and
stood there with my arms raised in surrender
i was too lonely
and did not know what to do
where to
i was broken.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Ring Of Grass
Rings of grass crowns of flowers they're gone gone gone gone
Furs that I woven of whispering hours gone gone gone gone
She's gone away where the rings are real
And the furs have warmth that a woman can feel
Round and round round goes the wheel
And she's gone gone gone gone gone
Rings of grass and crowns of flowers gone gone gone gone
Castles of sand with seashell towers gone gone gone gone
She's gone away where the dreams are small
But the castles are rock and they never fall
And left me here to live among all that is gone gone gone gone gone
Rings of grass oh why did they die away gone gone gone gone
Whispering hours where did they fly away gone gone gone gone
And where is the wisdom to understand
That years would crumble our castles of sand
And the flowers and grass turn brown in our hands
When it's gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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Golden Children
Gold has an advantage over us. Gold mattered over all other matter. Glowing is the metal of desire, the metallic abode is upon us like a golden palace twitching like silver, but gold. Golden palaces harvest children of gore to expertly slice and shear the halls and walls so that the germs must disappear from their scalps. Are they skulls, or just plain children? Is there an uprising? Or are there too many children in the golden palace? Gold shall teach the mighty reward to the ending of some crazy children.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Lady Of Gold
Dreams from Vienna, vernal troubadours
Violins play soft, cafes in romantic light
French poets with symbols of rebellious mirth
Walk the ancient streets, parades of ghosts
Cobble stone, centuries, clocks, silver myth
Surrealistic images from the sea of Kings
Royal crimson halls where queens smile
Crystal glasses of gentry, castles, carriages
Narrow roads roll through the Alps
Aegean verse from a sea of Keats
Spanish romance with eye's of fire
Crimson goddesses in castles of Italy
Paris and Rome under a full moon
Dance the night in satin dresses
Mediterranean art in moonlit soul
My elegant love is a lady of gold
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Black Swan
(1947) gian carlo menotti
The sun is falling and it lies in blood
The moon is weaving bandages of gold
Old black swan where oh where is my lover now
Where oh where is my lover now
Torn and tattered is my bridal gown and my lamp is lost
With silver needles and with silver threads
The stars stitch a route for the dying sun
Old black swan where oh where is my lover now
I had given him a kiss and a golden ring
And a golden ring
I had given him a kiss of fire and a golden ring
Oh with silver needles and with silver threads
The stars stitch a route for the dying sun
Black wing o black wing take me down with you
Take me down with you take me down with you
Take me down with you
Old black swan take me down with you
I had given him a kiss of fire
Take me down with you
song performed by by Nina Simone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Golden Memory
When I was a young child
about five to seven years of age.
I noticed the neighbour's trees
were dirty and sooty and black.
Black with smoke chimney coal dust.
The bark was ugly dirty and black
the leaves were ugly dirty and black.
And barely green if at all in most places,
except a little on the side facing the sun.
The sun I saw as a beautiful yellow light.
Next to my father's garage grew these trees.
They were really tall shrubs, but I was but still
a young child, with much to learn in this world,
ruled by mean men. Magic and the elfin language,
still danced like sparkling stardust in my eyes.
Next to my father's garage grew these trees.
They were so sad dull black lifeless and ugly.
I took a bright yellow lively house paint.
And painted the trees yellow bright golden yellow,
in all sad places I could short armed easily reach.
But I also got paint on my hands face clothes.
In my wonderful joy I got paint on my clothes.
My apparently best going to town best clothes.
My mother punished me for painting the trees.
And the leaves a bright joyous yellow colour.
For making a small part
of this dull adult world.
A golden magical shinning
bright fairy glade place.
For painting making a small part
of this dull adult fading world.
A golden orb magical shinning
bright mystical fairy glade place.
For trying to make the tired
world a better magical place.
Thus were childhood dreamers
often beaten into submission.
By those who failed to see
the divine presence in dreams.
By those who failed to see
the magical sparkle in dreams.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Dancing In December Dreams
Lollipops and candy canes
teddy bears and dolls
Snowy paths that twinkle bright
this month of silver stars
Evergreens and stories told
of reindeers flying eight
And oh the glow from children's eyes
as Santa they await
Turkey stuffed with garnished bread
brothy soup on Christmas eve
Nights alive as trees delight
with shiny icy beams
And though the days of shopping pass
as wrappings lie in colored streams
Memories of this month enchant
and sing forever in our dreams
poem by Marcia Schechinger
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From The Tuscan
WHEN in the west the red sun sank in glory,
The cypress trees stood up like gold, fine gold;
The mother told her little child the story
Of the gold trees the heavenly gardens hold.
In golden dreams the child sees golden rivers,
Gold trees, gold blossoms, golden boughs and leaves,
Without, the cypress in the night wind shivers,
Weeps with the rain and with the darkness grieves.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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The Sad And Painful Truths.
most truths hurt.
they are not guests.
they stay permanently.
they have needles and threads and fingers.
they sew your lips.
there is blood in your hands.
you cannot complain.
no matter how you shake your brain
to forget
these sad and painful truths stay.
they are bats on the branches of your trees.
aphids on your leaves.
soon these truths kill you.
and then
they all set you free.
gratitude comes at last
before you even say it.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Life's Grander Scheme Of Things...
I feel like I'm a feather dancing in the air
My tresses flow behind me as if they have no care
I free-fall through the centuries, the aged times of old
I tremble with the breezes breath I fancy feeling bold
I tickle the children's' nose I flow around their ears
I buzz atop a horses back, I dangle within fears
I travel in dimensions and flow among the kings
I even scrape the golden crowns of Camelot and queens
I fall from the turrets...thrown from a princess high
Then settle in the moat below and float among her sighs
I once again redeem my place in breezes pick-me-up
I flow much further as I light to settle on a pup
The flight just then is tickled with tongues that seek me out
As children of Sir Arthur laugh...pick me up and shout
'Look at thee Mum they shout'...'We found this pretty feather'
'Come rejoice and sing aloud'...as songs of children gather
Just to travel and be free of all that's cumbersome
Brings the dreams to focus at all I've gone and done
I merely want to float away...sometimes its just a dream
Its out-of-focus wishes in life's grander scheme of things.
poem by Kristin Nicole RothDavis
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Spinning Threads
Spin the threads of
life
creating a golden
tapestry.
Weave together love
and memories,
how it was yesterday.
Being woven together
on the loom of life.
Spin threads of gold
and silver,
to make a tapestry
of delight.
Spin the threads of
gold,
spin the events of
life.
poem by Heather Burns
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Silver Dreams, Golden Smiles
You came to me
In a silver dream
With a glowing flow
Of a mountain stream
You lift my soul
Way beyond the sky
Just to wake me up
With your golden smiles
Chorus:
Silver dreams and golden smiles
Silver dreams and golden smiles
Silver dreams and golden smiles
Silver dreams and golden smiles
I knew one day
You would come my way
You would help me see
The reality
Heaven and earth
They are one, the same
In my heart I know
When you call my name
Chorus
Dreaming when Im wide awake
See, when my eyes are closed
Flying, I dont need no wings
Being everywhere at once
Hold me, hold me in your arms
Fill me with your glowing grace
Chorus
song performed by by Santana
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Improvisations: Light And Snow: 13
My heart is an old house, and in that forlorn old house,
In the very centre, dark and forgotten,
Is a locked room where an enchanted princess
Lies sleeping.
But sometimes, in that dark house,
As if almost from the stars, far away,
Sounds whisper in that secret room —
Faint voices, music, a dying trill of laughter?
And suddenly, from her long sleep,
The beautiful princess awakes and dances.
Who is she? I do not know.
Why does she dance? Do not ask me! —
Yet to-day, when I saw you,
When I saw your eyes troubled with the trouble of happiness,
And your mouth trembling into a smile,
And your fingers pull shyly forward, —
Softly, in that room,
The little princess arose
And danced;
And as she danced the old house gravely trembled
With its vague and delicious secret.
poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
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