A Reminder From A Son-in-law To His Mother-in-law
be kind to me
fake mama, do not say
words unkind
as i also leave words
sharp as mongol pencil
in my study table
to your harsh questions
i do not answer and to your answers
to my pleadings
i do not make any reply
this is the best arrangement of the furniture
behind it is the closed door and to that door knob
is the lost key.
there is the window glass
a little bit frosty
i see your face and body and in vagueness
you also see me
on those cold early mornings
when the leaves still own the dew
when the birds are still asleep
take note
we all become interesting.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
Question
I don't have the answer
So why ask me, why?
Why do you ask me a question
When there is no reply?
As though the answer was this?
Did you know all along?
That so much space
Is weighed down in white silence
Who told you these things?
These imagined replies?
To the unanswered question
The question why?
There is no reply
But bad weather
Rough roads
There is no reply
Leave the rain alone
There is no reply
No reply
No answer to why
Leave the question alone
No face in the sky
No key to the door
No there is nothing, but nothing
So leave nothing alone
And turn round and go home
Watch the sea from your window
The waves rise and fall
Nothing but madness
And nothing at all! !
The moon's silver crescent
No time to recall
What is left
What is deaf
What is blind
To ritual?
To sign?
There's no pattern no season
No face in the wall
No reason too reasonable
To make no sense at all!
There is no reply
To pain
Love lost
To prayer
Why ask me these questions?
When there's no answer there?
yvette m smith july 09
poem by Yvette Smith
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Closed Door
sometimes we want to enter
a door
a closed door that does not open
no matter how hard we
knock
we try being courteous and gentle
and so patient
eating every waiting time
like we are the most foolish of all fools
knocking a closed door
seducing it more often with our
pleadings
begging and even compromising
for a dance
to convince the owner of the door to
open it
but no one hears, no one cares to listen
to our pleadings,
no one likes the dance of compromises
the door is still closed
and then the last crooked thing happens
we take the axe
and break the door which is closed
forcing it open
only to find that all the people there are dead
there is nothing inside
but mystery and
grief
an unsolved crime, no more
no less.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Making Lvoe With Her Own Bed
you are just near me
but between us is a door
and between that door
is another door, and so
when you say a word
i have to figure out what
you really mean,
when i open the door
there is a glass wall and
i thought it was you
humming,
it is cold tonight
i am closing a window
out there
i see a black bird perched
upon a branch,
it is cold and i am shutting
myself for any
kind of significance like
what if the bird dies?
what if the bird is you
disguised as a bird?
tonight i cannot sleep
something bothers me
all these thoughts bother me
there is no note
that you are coming back
from that long trip
away from home
was it Sarah who said
that she is making love with her bed?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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There Is No Forcing Oneself On The Other
love is a democracy
it does not force itself upon other people's hearts
when it is welcomed
it enters the door and expects to be cared for
when it is time to leave
love knows how to make that graceful exit
it goes out the door of mutuality
leaves the room
leaves nothing
it closes the door slowly
there is no banging of anything
the words are kind
when it says goodbye.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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What Have I To Fear?
if death be but a step,
a flower fallen with silent shouts...
a kiss blown by wind but never lost,
a friend who tends the grave.
a hymn, a prayer, kind words spoken,
a drink at a corner table.
a book placed back on the shelf,
a child's drawing done in crayon.
a door closed, left unlocked,
cattle left in the pasture all night.
an empty bowel, a candle burned down,
a sparrow sitting outside the window.
a shovel of dirt, a broken glass,
boots left in the corner.
the dog's leg cocked,
the fire burned down....
the still darkness waiting on dawn.
the river overflowed,
the cage door opened...
then what have i to fear?
poem by Eric Cockrell
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0005 'what Is There To Live For?
and you asked this question
half-privately, half publicly, (so there's some hope then?)
but we, knowing alas your high intelligence,
must pause, reflect, before we answer you...
we could just say, in our severest tones -
that question comes from a nowhere, no-time place
where ignorance is loved, and knowledge is denied..
I'd say, off the cuff, damn you, do just what you like...
you'll do that anyway..
but if you want some words from me..
(who knows the power of words, despite
all evidence to the contrary?) -
some words about what you already know...
I'd say, the answer's in the shortest word
inside your question - 'is':
that tiny window in our life
between the past - that which has shaped your 'is' -
and future - which your 'is' will make for you;
that tiny window, which the gift of life
(and what else do we know of this?)
offers you through all your lived-in life -
gift, to be free; of past and future; simply be,
live in a world of free unselfishness,
be anything and everything, be what you wish -
or better still, be what unsullied life
continually offers you out of the blue...
Or you could count your blessings -
think as Mark has written, just so beautifully, to you...
you'll do just what you do, when all things have been said
and all things written down in words - damn you -
though I for one believe you far from damned..
I knocked upon your door - you didn't answer me;
so now I'm running round the back,
calling through that tiny window
of your very present life; and just to say,
you know yourself; know all the questions, all the answers; but
I'm here for you...and by the way, that ' I ' means we...
poem by Michael Shepherd
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As a young boy
As a young boy
I remember
seeing a plastic
Jesus statue
with a finger
pointing to
his Heart
I remember
waking up
on Cold
frosty mornings
and reading
Notes of
Jack frost
on each window
I remember
in the Early
hours of the
morning
Three Taps
on the window
and waking up
to the Old Hag
staring
I remember
asking my
Mom
many Questions
and her
saying
Only God
knows
poem by Jay Reynolds
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Child face
Did you ever see joy on child's face?
When some comment is passed over his race
Cast, creed, religion or for ugly appearance
At least parents have told her that it is blessed by chance
Children look so innocent in early stage
Their smile fascinate us with age
They may laugh at us and demand
Break any costly things and loudly play the band
"Hi, how come your teeth have gone? "
The question was parried but some damage was done
The child was smart enough to reply with smile
"The teeth have made room for new style"
Some of the children may shy off and run away
They will cover face but not show it any way
This is an age where you can expect funny answers
Some of them may speak with language that can be understood by few
"Where from you have come in our home"?
I will ask my grand children for an answer to welcome
"Mom says that door was opened at night"
Doctor dropped us at your door, alright
Such type of answers pushes me to the corner of heaven
I have come across funny answers but visibly driven
They are blessed flowers on the earth from almighty
Even though they may look jokers and naughty
I wish them grow in their own way and liking
Let us be kind to answer them when such thing is striking
They should be convinced with what we are replying
Their mind is quick enough to grasp and honestly relying
I would love to hear their answers in any manner
They are quick to grasp but reply little later
They know how dear grand parents are
Some of them may be supporting from very far
I wish to be child at some stage
Entire life journey has made me weary of an age
The children in home make scene little entertaining
The happiness and joy sometimes may not be given by breeze or rain
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Some Aspects Are Irreconciliable
this is the story
you meet someone whom you think is very interesting
and you go to a busy place
buy beer and talk a while
the usual get to know scripts
more bottles to make
a certain familiarity
more words
and less periods
less question marks now
more of introspection
and then
all the questions are erased
the answers are too much to take
the conversations drag
and contempt comes at the last drink
'one for the road' the other says
you leave and you realize
home is always sweeter even without
anyone whom you at first think is very interesting.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Our Arrival
our arrival is greeted by the wagging of a tail
and the jumping of a dog long denied
of company.
our arrival is the opening of the windows
the winds come
and once again kiss the furniture
and the room shows once more
the luster of an almost forgotten
fullness
our arrival shall keep the blankets
warm again
it shall unlock the bolts and shall
once more open a closed door
our arrival shall give us the sounds
of faucets
the flushing of an old water
inside the bowl long silenced by the
kind of absence that
sometimes want a revival of newer
perspectives
our arrival is a reconstruction of ourselves
for once again
we shall make the questions open
and then, if you only know, the meaning of things
that grow again, like seeds, these, all of these
shall make an arrival interesting....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Fragility
a petal door
Marooned
A tendril knob
For fear that i
May leave an imprint
Of unforgetable
Destruction
I decide not to touch
Any surface
Upon my departure
I have gloved hands and
My body is a closed
Luggage
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Answers
There are lots of questions
some good, none bad.
Time, overwhelmed,
and finally a little bored with so many questions,
answers all the same
not maliciously but frankly
because Time has found
the answer unvarying, always the same.
Time, the adjudicator
whose eyes are green stones, by the way, nods and gently says
'yes, Joy is real, but temporary;
entirely valid, it's case.
Go for it, go for it, whatever-
at all and every stage
All and every....stage', Time intones,
Then turning meditative
and almost forgetting the question,
'just do no harm.
But don't expect it to last-
that's fool's work;
and leave the furniture alone!
the careful configuration of furniture
cannot insure happiness. Much.
Happiness comes from acceptance
of the furniture as it is. Largely.
Everyone is good at something'.
Then Time, exhausted and sickened
by so much sanctimony, sinks back, sits up, adding,
a bit sadly, 'Remember, in the end
the answer is always the same'.
poem by Morgan Michaels
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Next Door
Whenever I’m moving my furniture in
Or shifting my furniture out—
Which is nearly as often and risky as Sin
In these days of shifting about—
There isn’t a stretcher, there isn’t a stick,
Nor a mat that belongs to the floor;
There isn’t a pot (Oh, my heart groweth sick!)
That escapes from the glare of Next Door!
The Basilisk Glare of Next Door.
Be it morn, noon or night—be it early or late;
Be it summer or winter or spring,
I cannot sneak down just to list at the gate
For the song that the bottle-ohs sing;
With some bottles to sell that shall bring me a beer,
And lead up to one or two more;
But I feel in my backbone the serpentine sneer,
And the Basilisk Glare of Next Door.
The political woman Next Door.
I really can’t say, being no one of note,
Why she glares at my odds and my ends,
Excepting, maybe, I’m a frivolous Pote,
With one or two frivolous friends,
Who help me to shift and to warm up the house
For three or four glad hours or more,
In a suburb that hasn’t the soul of a louse;
And they’ve got no respect for Next Door!
They don’t give a damn for Next Door
.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Friends?
i am extending my hand
like a door knob of my door
you are here just in front of me
where i am seated
with a rose in my mouth
please open the door
and please take my red rose
with your lips
do not speak any word
let me feast upon your face
your body, your soul
it has been a long time
and my world stopped turning.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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What Words Can I Say?
i make life
i want to make life for both of us
the one filled with cheers like the sparkling
champagne on a thin, fragile, transparent glass
so we too can have
very careful fingers to hold it
or it breaks
shatters on the stone floors
and you weep picking up the pieces
your tears cannot ever glue them
whole again
i want to make life and love with you
on words
no no no, not on words alone
on actions and concrete hands that touch your face and make it
warm
i put the sun
and let the water run on the rivers
i want to make love with you
let us leave life for a while
let us close our mouths with words and letters and lines
tonight, i will put the moon and the stars
i like the windows closed
it is too cold
and my bed is small for both of us
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Knock On Any Door
Knock on any door
Look through any window
Baby knock on any door
Knock on any door
Is there any place you want to go
Baby who you lookin for
Yeah, yeah, baby now you know
Its a cold world like they told you so
Knock on any door
Save your tears for some occasion
Keep your heartache to yourself
Knock on any door
Its a simple operation
Just trade your memory for your health
Knock on any door
Look through any window
Walk on
Knock on any door
Look through any window
Walk on
Its insane girl, you cant run away
Its the same world it was yesterday
Knock on any door
Look through any window
Walk on
Knock on any door
Look through any window
Walk on
Now, now, now how do you survive
With a pain so real, in a world so jive
Knock on any door
Look through any window
Peek through any shade
Knock on any door
Look through any window
Walk on
song performed by by Jackson Browne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cold As Ice
I dont think you understand
Oh the rhythm of my heart
Theres a strong line to mind and soul
I feel it tearing apart
Ive been searching for new words
Gonna make you understand in a different way
When I told you Id hang on forever
I threw my choice away
And its cold as ice
I cant let go
Its cold as ice
Baby but I need your love
And I wish I could have been the first one
Oh to walk out the door
The more I find myself to blame
The less there is to come back for
You wish you could have been the last one
To tell me how you really feel
Cause when you closed the door oh deep inside
My heart it still seemed so sincere
And its cold as ice
I cant let go oh
Its cold as ice
Baby but I need your love
Its cold as ice
I cant let go
Its cold as ice
Baby but I need your love
If theres a message to this madness
Well it still seems quite unclear
If I really need to save myself
Why cant I just walk out of here
Theres a message in your eyes
And you make it perfectly plain
Either I leave your heart behind
Or crack beneath this freezing
Freezing freezing freezing rain
Cold as ice
(cold as ice)
I cant let go
(but I cant let go)
Cold as ice
Baby but i
But I need your love
All right
I said Im cold
Cold Im cold
(cold as ice)
Cold Im cold
(baby)
Cold Im cold
(cold as ice darling)
Cold as ice
(cold as ice)
Oh no but I cant let go
(I said Im freezing, freezing)
Oh no no I cant let go
(freezing, freezing, freezing, freezing)
No no Im cold as ice
(whoa whoa baby yeah)
Im cold as ice
But I cant let go
No
song performed by by Indigo Girls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Probing Questions
Is there something more to life, than endless days of toil and strife?
Is there something after all of this; a Hell below or a Heavenly Bliss?
Can there truly be life after death, this when we take our final breath?
That question always asked is why; do innocent people have to die?
Why do righteous people perish, while evil seems to always flourish?
Friend is there truly a Living God, who rules above the earth we trod?
And does God truly care for us; mortal beings that return to the dust?
Can anyone have true peace of mind, in this world that is so unkind?
Why’s there evil darkness everywhere, if He is a God filled with care?
And why would a God full of love, simply sit and watch from above?
These are just a few of many more, questions asked about my Lord,
Questions that you may have asked; some in the not so distant past.
Many questions are Satan’s reproof, to keep many from God’s Truth,
Let none of them keep you from, Christ who from Heaven has come,
With answers to these and more, on questions about Heaven’s Door.
The Spirit leads to God’s Word, with the answers to questions heard,
Eternal answers which you will find, fill your heart not just your mind.
Where God not just answers them, but gives new life to all my friend.
Then all the questions are second to, the Eternal Life He’s given you.
And now an answer in my life, is to Heaven I’m going in Jesus Christ.
(Copyright ©06/2007)
More Than?
more than speech reason
love contempt
A circuit of days
A round of drinks
A collection of letters
Words well said
More than a knee jerk reaction
An insidious reply
The automatic pen of an artist
A wave goodbye
Not waving but drowning?
A brain in a jar for arts sake
A fake tan a botoxed face
A stretch of words in a desert place
A name a place a star sign
More than a body in a bed
A closed eye
A doctrine on belief
An athiests reply
More than a grain of sand
A head full of dreams
A dandelion head blown into the wind
A particle of dust
A molecule of sky
More than, a you, an I
More than all imaginings
Oh what a piece of work is man
More, much more than this?
poem by Yvette Smith
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Mama Told Me Not To Come
Want some whiskey in your water?
Sugar in your tea?
Whats all these crazy questions theyre askin me?
This is the craziest party that could ever be
Dont turn on the lights cause I dont wanna see
Mama told me not to come
Mama told me not to come
She said that aint the way to have fun, son
That aint the way to have fun, son
Open up the window, let some air into this room
I think mommas chocking from the smell of stale perfume
And the cigarette youre smoking about to scare me half to death
Open up the window, let me catch my breath
Some radio is blastin
Someones knockin at the door
Im lookin at my girlfriend
She just passed out on the floor
Ive seen so many things
I aint never seen before
Dont know what it is
I dont wanna see no more
Mama told me not to come
Mama told me not to come (mama told me)
She said that aint the way to have fun, no (no, no)
That aint the way to have fun, son
Mama told me, mama told me
Mana told me, mama told me
Mama told me not to come (mama told me not to come)
That aint the way to have fun, son
That aint the way to have fun, son
That aint the way to have fun, no, son
That aint the way to have fun, son (mama told me)
Mama told me, mama told me
Mama told me, mama told me
Mama told me not to come (mama told me not to come)
That aint the way to have fun, son
That aint the way to have fun, son
That aint the way to have fun (oh no, no)...
song performed by by Tom Jones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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