A Reminder For All Of Us
according to the laws of evolution something that is not used
may finally be lost. It fades. It is gone. So like the fins of a fish
who migrated to the island, they slowly fall out and from there shall
grow a set of wings and claws. They become birds.And they soon
learn to fly. They dream of clouds.
Like the moss of the rocks by the shore
by the lake. They envy the worms. They dream to wriggle
and move and push their tiny bodies.Soon the acquire the gift
of motion. Soon they become worms and crawl their way up
on the leaf. They even become caterpillars. Soon they become
the new butterflies.
So it will be with us. If we do not walk, our feet will soon be forgotten.
They will become mere skin. Our feet shrink and become part of
our bottom. If we do not think and use our minds, soon the brain
becomes a stone. Hard. Brittle. Soon they become part of the river
where a passerby simply steps upon it. Upon us.
Soon we will just be the sand. And the river flows upon.
If we do not love, soon we will just become a wall, a floor,
a house whose doors will close. A place for nothing
but merely departure.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
I Walk A Nameless River
I walk a nameless river
One which collects water from the houses,
The streets and such,
A river of rain that carry small sticks,
Cigarettes butts and, bits of paper
A shadow river that moves pap like rocks
A river trapped in the street cars’ tracks
A river rushing past ants and praying mantises
Against butterflies and worms that comes up and leave
Body tracks in the mud.
A river fed by puddles and cracks; indents in the sidewalks
By downward slanted driveways and situated front yards
By small streams on window glass and streams down sycamore trucks,
Maple, oak and such.
A cleaning river of gutterized rain,
A leaf drooping rain of green things,
River of no name
Too thin to carry twigs
Easily distracted by my foot
Easily stagnated into a nameless pond
When the sky has dried out.
I walk a one street river
A shallow river of clinched fists
A narrow river of butterflies in the nameless sky
A concrete river of feet saturated against the maple rocks
A river of bodies coming up leaving a river of cracks
A river of cigarettes of worms of sycamore trunks, oak
Marble and such.
A thin river of destruction, of gutters and traped tracks
Of sticks collected among themselves like dead praying mantises
In the rush of houses and driveways stacked in the water
Of a small rainy sky.
poem by David E. Patton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Caution From The Man Who Taught Evolution
he says that any creature which does not use a part of its body
soon will lose it.It is the use that makes it exist.
Thus, when a fish gets off the water because it likes to fly,
it becomes a bird in due time,
Thus, when that bird peroccupies itself with swimming
ultimately becomes the sting-ray.
Thus the moss on the stone which wants to roll
with the stone becomes the worms of earth.
Time makes them what they want to become.
Thus the jellyfish that crawls to the ground becomes
another blob. And so on and so forth.
It also happens to us humans.
When we start to be complacent and not use our minds to think,
we become brainless.We shrink into stone where the rivers
pass by us unrespecting of our dignities, where those who
walk upon us, simply consider as us nothing but foot stools.
We may think of the divine. Let us see what happens next.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
American Wriggle
Rand Paul opens
a new can of worms.
The worms wriggle
around in the can,
unaware they’re about
to become fish-bait.
“That’s it! ” he tells them,
“I approve of wriggle!
Fish approve of wriggle.
Everybody approves wriggle.
It’s The American Way! ”
Tea Partiers cheer, wriggling
like blind American worms.
(24 MAY 10, Santa Clara CA)
poem by Bill Costley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
To Gather Moss And More Of Moss
to gather moss
be a stone
to gather more moss
be a very still stone
be a stone still till the end
of time
you stand still and think
you want to be the moss
rather than a stone
to be all moss
you must betray the stillness
of stone
you must even forget
the importance of
what a moss can be
then you think some more
to be completely this moss
you need to be friendly
to the water and to the river
then you decide to be the water
instead of the moss
to be more than the water
you wish instead to become the river
and so you flow and learn the rush
and become the running river
until what you want really
is just to flow
to rush and run and then
you become nothing
but the motion itself
until you are lost
and then
you become what you are now
lost but real
always flowing, rushing, running
where nobody owns you
not even the river
or the stones or the moss
you have become
this running, this flowing, this being
so real so free
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Please Do Not Ask Me How A River Feels
children bathe in the river.
we were children once, we bathe in the river
we float and go with the flow of the river
we lied to mother we were afraid of father
but we were children once and we bathed in the river
we all know how a river felt
throughout our bodies
time runs like a river how many times shall i tell you that
we had mud all over
we were once children we grow to be men
strong arms and swift feet
we caught fish
we claim to be men with responsibilities
we are still children at heart we still feel the rivers running on our skins
i know, i still know how a river feels
time does not know how to kill the feel of rivers
do not ask me then if i have forgotten the river
we are men with responsibilities we have gone away
far from what we are
the river still flows and it will never stop
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
In The Harbour: To The Avon
Flow on, sweet river! like his verse
Who lies beneath this sculptured hearse;
Nor wait beside the churchyard wall
For him who cannot hear thy call.
Thy playmate once; I see him now
A boy with sunshine on his brow,
And hear in Stratford's quiet street
The patter of his little feet.
I see him by thy shallow edge
Wading knee-deep amid the sedge;
And lost in thought, as if thy stream
Were the swift river of a dream.
He wonders whitherward it flows;
And fain would follow where it goes,
To the wide world, that shall erelong
Be filled with his melodious song.
Flow on, fair stream! That dream is o'er;
He stands upon another shore;
A vaster river near him flows,
And still he follows where it goes.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I Have Worms Inside My Mouth
at first i wanted to spit them all
wanting to relieve myself
with all the hassle
in keeping worms
that my friends detest
they tell me
that i must spit them all
for reasons of
sanitation
or perhaps
for my own sanity
i think about it
and the possibilities
of finally throwing up
after all i get
nauseous
this feeling of trying to hide
some things
inside the mouth
(do you know
about it?)
i could not do the throwing up
and so
the worms are still there
it is something
about giving them
temporary shelter
a home
i did not listen to myself
i did not listen to their advices
i decided to keep the worms for good
swallowing each worm
sliding in my esophagus
and finally settling inside the
rooms of my heart
i dream about each worm
wriggling inside my brain
but i keep them still
despite the mixed feelings of
pleasure and pain
one day
the worms become butterflies
and i feel ready for
this beautiful eventuality
i look up
to the heavens
on a very bright day
i spit them
all free
to the skies to the clouds
and to the trees
where they all
rightfully belong
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Take Me Back
Take me back to the place
Where I once belonged
This could be anyplace a place
Where you and I could sing this song
Take me back where I hear waterfalls flowing
Let me dive into the lake
Where winter hides the snow
Then comes the summertime
Fields of scarlet poppies grow
Take me back where I see butterflies toing froing
Let me sleep a little while
Underneath the trees
And dream of dragonflies
Where the weary willow weeps for me
Take me back where I see dandelions blowing
And the river flows
I am never gonna take it back again
And the river flows
I am never gonna get it back again
We dont know anything
Trapped in a world full of strangers
Please dont tell me anything
Id rather fall into you
song performed by by Erasure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Waiting For The Worms
Oooo you cannot reach me now,
Oooo no matter how you try.
Goodbye cruel world, its over.
Walk on by.
Sitting in a bunker,
Here behind my wall,
Waiting for the worms to come. ( worms to come. )
In perfect isolation,
Here behind my wall,
Waiting for the worms to come. ( worms to come. )
Waiting, to cut out the deadwood.
Waiting, to clean up the city.
Waiting, to follow the worms.
Waiting, to put on a black shirt.
Waiting, to weed out the weaklings.
Waiting, to smash in their windows and kick in their doors.
Waiting, for the final solution to strengthen the strain.
Waiting, to follow the worms.
Waiting, to turn on the showers and fire the ovens.
Waiting, for the queers and the coons and the reds and the jews.
Waiting, to follow the worms.
Would you like to see britannia,
Rule again, my friend?
All you have to do is follow the worms.
Would you like to send our colored cousins,
Home again, my friend?
All you need to do is follow the worms.
song performed by by Pink Floyd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Making The Choices...
from my rotting belly
words like words are coming out
no one likes them
worms are beguiling
i am misled myself
because from my rotten belly
the worms without my minding
have become
tiny butterflies
then they fly towards my hair
which have become some kind of little flowers
and i can smell the sweet scents of chili
i have forgotten my body
i have become a forest with all these safari stuff
and orchids and wild birds
to my big surprise of course
because i am never asleep i am awake
oh, this workings of the mind
from a rotten body, this junk of our history
shall rise
the wonders of our future, a forest, birds, safari, rivers,
clouds, skies,
everything, everything, you simply have to make the choices...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
River
Here is the river
And I am searching it
In the map that is
On the wall of my house
That is not there.
I do not know
The mountain is in between
The river and my house
That dressedup geography
And taking me from
Place to place.
I am on my own journey
While the sky is breaking
And I with the night dream
Passing passing and passing
The hard days with
Fire of the mountain
And water of the river.
Where is the river
That I am searching
To driveout troubles
Where I am
Here is the river
Wash your face eyes
Somebody is kind enough
To tell in my house.
I am not in my house
See.
And Where am I
And the sea is here
No river no mountain
Here is the river
If you find again
Inform me please
I am grateful then.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Listening To Rain Thoughts
Lying in bed, listening
To nature groan overhead;
Heavily rain does fall
Drip by drip inside my wall,
This house so old
Has leaks - as does my soul.
Voiceless thoughts pour from the clouded sky
Creating water drops
Learning how to fly,
It showers down in crazy sheets, as
I lie and listen
To the strange things it speaks.
Lightning flashes
Thunder slashes -
The whirlwind opens many things,
With such wild wonders it brings.
A spate of mystery
Floods across history;
Things up
Things down
Things lost...
And things so found.
Snakes slither
Owls fly
People work and work
As together we move ever along,
All on our own way to die.
Some see the light
Some fear the dark
Through it all
God plays more than just a mere part.
All across the land
The four-winds increasingly blow,
While on the great waters
Wonderous waves continue to grow...
...(far off, somewhere, the rain does end,
for in the final analysis, God shall win.)
Still, now, the rains do fall.
As worms crawl, birds eat good
And so much appears to be
Just as it should.
But inside, the old house continues to leak
And the rotting floor creaks,
For I and the house are one,
And shall be until
The returning of the sun.
The sky drizzles gray
With another unlit day, as
Distant thunder rolls... far away.
The melancholy rain drips inside the pane,
The storm has slowed, but
When will it finally go...
Somehow I begin to see, dimly through the glass,
The faintest break in the overcast...
I fear it only an illusion,
It has been raining for so long that
I had dared to dread,
Perhaps the sun was indeed dead.
Like a stray dog
Looking for a bone
Like a drifter
Looking for a home,
Hope for what yet is to be found
Is what keeps our feet on dry ground.
So, I'll just walk along side Jesus
In this old driving rain
Let people look at us
Like we are quite insane,
For we've no need of
Umbrella or hat
No worldly garb
No none of that,
No pretentious show
No dogma to follow
No wasted words
Empty and hollow,
Together, with all the rest who care to listen,
We'll come to hear something new:
The sound of singing,
Out of the clear blue!
And eventually we shall find,
Beyond these old clouds,
The approaching sunshine.
poem by Smoky Hoss
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The River Flows
The river flows and moss grows
And I dangle my feet in the water
The water is cold, but so is my heart
As I sit and just watch time goes by
No place I have to go, no place to be
Time has passed too fast, as fast as the river flows
Who else has sat here and felt this way
Felt pain in their heart and soul
They don't understand, did they ever?
All the hurt down deep in my soul
The leaves sway with the wind
And the chill sets in
I know I must leave, I don't know where
Guess I'll find my way down the road
With tears in my eyes and a broken heart
I'll find my way back to somewhere
The river flows on and the moss will keep growing
Till someone else sits here
And remembers things like I do
And wish I had them all back
I leave in the night, goodbye to the river and moss
May each persons who comes this way
Find a peace inside like I did but on the way
I'll always remember that the river flows on and the moss grows.
Written by Jo Carey
The Fish in Yonder Pond
There was a fish in yonder pond
His fins of which he was not fond
For walking was his goal, you see-
to walk around like you or me
He leaped up high into the air,
and saw a bouncing, bumbling, bear.
He was about on two hind feet,
the fish found this to be quite neat.
And so one day, he made a vow
to grow some feet, he wondered how.
He went to bed, yet he was sad.
He had no feet, and this was bad.
But when he woke, to his surprise
No fins were there, but feet and thighs!
For a young polliwog was he
not fish, not bird, not man, nor tree!
Twas fun to be a polliwog,
but better, a free, fearless frog.
While fearless yes, but careless too,
They caught the frog; He's in the zoo!
poem by Mela Marie
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Alone
alone in the side
of the sea,
I see you like wave that push
every stone
underneath the traveling sand
in the shore,
with out ado; the tune
of the wind capture your
face and hold my whole self
thinking, of what will be
today of that
yesteryear's
gone
looking back
the glad tiding of the clouds,
my heart whisper
as it walk alone with you
in the shore
of today than of yesterday and
perhaps those are
only dream
to ponder, the imagination that
not even
my eyes has to close than to
lost with out you
Dear.....
poem by Antonio Liao
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Temporality.....
nothing is kept forever
each day we lose part of our skin
our feet dissolve
in water
our heads evaporate in air
time
we are immersed in it like
a solution
we diffuse like molecules
of ink
we invade what seems at
first is colorless
then each of us settles
like moss
to rocks
we think that finally stability
is there
the rocks crumple like chalk
turning to dust again
upon our fingers the wind comes
blows everything
we imagine we exist
until our imagination leaves us
we become strangers again
like a migrating bird
upon a tree
in an unknown island
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
For I Have Become Murky
i am the river beside you and you are the woman
wanting to go naked and take a bath in my mouth
while wading you think of the calmness of the
a pond, some petals of roses, air showered with
white magnolias,
i am the river beside you and my ripples are tongues.
i move around loving every part of you.
and you tiptoe and wriggle and sing for i am winding
you take the plunge and you search for my heart
the warmth of my floor and the comfort of my banks
the tickles of my fish, the power of my pebbles
you feel that i own you now and you want some more
wanting to stay and savor the embrace of my foams
at noon the sun comes at the height of its brightness
you realize the mistake & you stand and dress yourself
you never want to be a part of me for i have become murky
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Learn From The Song Of The River
Learn from the river. It flows.
It does not ever stop or stand still.
It would only be a puddle, if it stopped.
It would evaporate, dry up, cease to be, if it fell in love with a scene, staying there, never to move again.
The river leaps over rocks, swirls around anything that blocks its way.
If something obstructs that is too big to move, too hard to dissolve, the river simply washes over and around; persistently, unrelentingly wearing away at the obstruction, until the river conquers and reconstructs its pathway and time is all it takes.
The river sings a varied melody, because it incorporates into its singing, what ever comes into its course.
Under low hanging trees, between high rising hillsides, over sand or piles and stacks of rocks, between narrow banks, through wide passes, covering deepest crevasses, flirting along shallow bottoms,
the river adjusts its song, as it changes its environment.
It creates new harmony with the alto of the earth's echoes,
the soprano of the leaves and grasses,
the basso grande of the rock face and walls of hills and mountains.
Over and above, the tenor of the sky sings recitative,
the melody of God's creation, blending the song of the river into unmatched beauty with all.
We, who try to live like a river, will flow.
No myth will conquer us, saying, 'Stay here, eternity will find this all unchanged.'
We know that the fleeting moment never will pass again, those same low hanging branches.
The river sees each scene but once.
We who live like a river, understand that each rock of crisis,
each bend in our course, which drives us to a new direction,
can never still our song.
For the river flows on eternally, in the course set only by God.
And the river blesses or curses, as it wills, everything that it passes
poem by Phyllis Thompson Halle
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
'Til Nothing Comes Between Us
Close your eyes, can you see me...
Rollin' down the Rocky Mountains
Movin' like the wind that sweeps the Kansas plains
I know you're with me
As I make my way through Oklahoma
Pass the barns and weather vanes
There are motels, cafes, fields and billboard signs
A thousand miles of highway
Between your heart and mine...
There will finally come a moment
When one man and one woman
Get everything that they've been waiting for...
I'll take you in my arms again
Feel your skin against my skin
Let the sheet fall slowly to the floor
Til nothing comes between us anymore...
In my soul I can feel you...
As I cross the Mississippi
You're the river flowin' in me
Comin' home I count each heartbeat...
Til the moment we're together
And the distance can't be measured
That's all that keeps me goin'
When I'm gone...
There will finally come a moment
When one man and one woman
Get everything that they've been waiting for...
I'll take you in my arms again
Feel your skin against my skin
Let the sheet fall slowly to the floor
Til nothing comes between us anymore...
Anymore...
There will finally come a moment
When one man and one woman
Get everything that they've been waiting for...
I'll take you in my arms again
Feel your skin against my skin
Let the sheet fall slowly to the floor
Til nothing comes between us anymore...
There will finally come a moment
When one man and one woman
Get everything, everything, everything (Fade out)
song performed by by John Michael Montgomery
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!