A Sketch Of Fairness
in the park the
baby is on a cart
as the young mother
drives it toward the
father who is waiting
carrying a diaper
do not think that
you are a loser
attention is diverted
to the rain that starts
to fall
to the car that just
parked on the road
to the jet plane that
draws a white line
on the sky
to the bird that
punctuates a branch
of the poplar
to the man sitting
alone on a bench
looking blank
well, you sit back and relax
and tell yourself
life is fair.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
The Mocking Bird On The Tree Fronting The House...
a mocking bird
sits on a branch of a tree
that fronts the house that
papa made
papa is gone.
a mocking bird left but one
sunny day
after the heavy rains for months
the mocking bird comes back
it is bringing silence
unlike all the other mocking birds
in town
the mocking bird is dead
a boy abandoned by his mother
stoned it
now the window if you walk a little
distant from the house
and sit on a bench across the road
looks like a Cheshire cat
giving Alice that fable smile.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Road Incident....
a red easy ride is parked
along the graveled road beside a
cemented fence
it is one hot afternoon
a little girl carries on her head
a bunch of ripe bananas
following mother carrying a basket of
clothes
a man wearing a shirt with green row stripes
runs toward the market rushing
it is beginning to rain on this hot afternoon
after a while, the road is flooded
a little boy runs across the road against
an over speeding truck
and then what we hear is a mother
screaming for help
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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With a bottle in his hand
I see a lightning flash
in the night
and it cuts past flats
and it draws a blue white line,
on its way down
to where it hits a tree
in the old park.
When darkness blinds me,
there’s a cigarette that glows red
and a old man sitting on a bench.
He protests with a bottle in his hand:
“Lord, take your thunder.
Not even God, can stop Kerneels Bester
to take a drink.”
The old man laughs as if mad
and takes a long drink,
before he presses the bottle
into the air.
With the bottle above his head
the man stands against the weather
and like that he still stands,
when the first big drops begin to fall
and I hear another thunder roll.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Degrees Of Unfreedom...
1. caught
a bird inside your hand
2.released
inside a cage and hangs
on a beam
at the side of the road
3.well feed with
grains
4. starts to sing
inside the cage
5. feathers fall
and unlearned
flights
6. so many thoughts
about bird-lands
7.death
8. no one sees
the spirit getting
out of the body
of the bird
9. into another plane
another cage
10. back to one
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Thirst for love
I was sitting in room
Busy reading a book
A call from a bird
Diverted my attention
She was sitting
On the window grill
Chirping in full volume
Trying hard to seek my attention
Her color was eye catching
Her looks attracted me
Her beauty no less
Instantly created ripples in me
In her I saw somebody who loved me
I wanted to hold her
Make love and feel her
As I was about to fulfill my desire
A vulture came from nowhere
Picked the bird in its claws
And flew to the sky with her
My love for her,
Her desire for me
Was a thirst neither of us
Could quench
poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
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a Childrens game?
I see a boy making roads
in the red-brown sand,
where his blue plastic Ranchero pickup
drives up and down
past a mud pond.
There’s a green plastic
roofless Mercedes,
that’s parked in the shade
next to a homestead
of tomato planks.
Small branches stand like popular trees
pressed in a row
in a rectangle,
where a red plastic Massi Furgeson tractor
draws furrows in a line of dust.
When I pass that place years later
a farmer drives around his fields
with his white Toyota pickup,
where popular trees
are rowed in next to the road
and green John Deere tractors
are ploughing
and I see a beautiful blonde woman
with a silver Mercedes SLK
cutting past their big dam
and the road turns away
and I wonder how the house looks
where they live
of which the roof
just edges pass the hillock.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Dark Skies
Never trust dark skies,
Mother says, sitting next
To you in her wheelchair
Aged and infirm, her mind
Shot through with senility;
And you remember her telling
You, that as a young girl, she
Would walk with her mother
And younger siblings, to take
Her father’s Sunday roast dinner,
Hidden in the compartment of
The pram beneath her two baby
Sisters, to the work place where
He waited, and her mother saying,
Make sure the others do not make
Off Etty, and your mother as she
Was then, with her big blue eyes
And long curly hair, having that look
About her, as if she could see her
Father’s death in 1936, and him no
Longer waiting, no longer waiting for
Them all patiently and hungrily there.
poem by Terry Collett
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Memories On A Park Bench
He sat on a park bench
just to pass the time away
when he saw her there
from the corner of his eye.
She was older now,
but her beauty had not faded.
She turned in his direction
and he smiled at her.
At first, she looked at him strangely
until there was recognition.
She smiled back
and then joined him.
They sat there on the park bench
the sun smiling down on them
as the daffodils swayed in the breeze.
For both of them came a flood
of memories of when they were young
before the world spirited them away.
Both had walked down many roads,
had some hard knocks along the way.
Both recalled them now
the way old friends meeting do.
As they sat there
recalling memories from happier days.
All too soon they would be parting
and as they would go,
they would take with them
a little of each other
in the form of memories
that they acquired on a park bench.
5 April 2009
poem by David Harris
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Park Bench
Sitting on a park bench,
the fragrance of the grass
scents the fresh air.
It makes you look more closely
to everything that is there.
The beauty of the day,
white clouds, no black ones of dismay.
A breeze that bends
every leaf and petal to and fro.
Then there are the colours,
a multitude of green.
Everything assaults our senses,
every smell and flower there.
The sun is over my shoulder,
blue skies, and no clouds in sight.
As I sit here on a park bench
enjoying everything, I see.
(7 July 2007)
poem by David Harris
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White Bird Of Texas
The last time I spoke to my aunt before she died
She was describing to me this incredible owl
That was sitting in a tree
It meant nothing to me
But it means a lot more now
Because Im waiting, Im waiting, Im waiting for the bird
Im waiting, Im ready, I know it is my turn
All those cigarettes, alcohol, this bodys through
Youre gone for sure when the bird comes for you
And the last time I spoke to my uncle before he died
It was the very same week, but one year before her
He was sitting alone in his study, on the phone
When a giant hawk flew by
Said, Im waiting, Im waiting, Im waiting for the bird,
I didnt expect to be noticed or heard.
Oh, elizabeth, help me, I cant find the room,
Youre gone for sure when the bird comes for you.
And, oh, it is scary
And, oh, it is cold to the bone
My bodys not ready for my mind to learn
I have just been consigned here to rot in the earth
Said, Im waiting, Im waiting, Im waiting for the bird,
It comes in and takes you away from this world.
Gate twenty-seven, I cant find the room.
Youre free to board now, theyre waiting for you.
Im waiting, Im waiting, Im waiting for the bird
Ive seen it three times now, theres nothing to learn
And dont be surprised if the skys bright and blue
And the white bird of texas comes barreling through
song performed by by Liz Phair
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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95
sitting, waiting
sitting, as simple as sitting on a stair
you look around through dragonfly eyes
from higher places
like a cliff overlooking a village
closer to cotton clouds
patches of hissing
winds up here,
alone,
you sit, sitting is simple, it is not complicated
as waiting which is heavier sometimes with a person who is not
showing some shadows for the coming,
sit,
i sit,
i am sitting viewing a wide horizon, a vast expanse of a field,
some white herons heaving leaves blown from dead trees this summer,
they fly away
from you, they fly away from where you are seated, from your country,
you remain sitting,
sit, like a dog to his master telling him to sit,
sit,
it is simple as being yourself alone, not even waiting
things end in darkness
dust settles finally on the ground after a truck fully loaded with almost
everything leaves
the road heading far away from you,
you are not waiting for anything
you have no time
left for waiting, everything leaves and goes away, always everybody
utters the word goodbye
except these, the rain, the rain, there are many of them,
these hordes of rains
they are coming and you sit and do the last thing possible
listen
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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From My Window To The Road Below
a brown boy
beside his pregnant mother
hand gripping
a bus stops
it is going to the mountain
loaded with
boxes and bags
and a crowd of
people
the boy sees his father
carrying
a net bag of fish
he gets away from
mother and
runs across the road
where father
is waiting
an over speeding
motorcycle is
coming
screeching sound
and screams
and then
silence, i, close my eyes
and walk away
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hailstone Food
My father loved the rain
Rain with hailstones
Twenty years gone past
When green and blue
Was all I knew
No red of blood
Nor ‘supreme’ of white
Nor ‘beauty’ of black
Just green and blue and love
It rained with hailstones
White stones from heaven
My father knelt down
On wet September grass
His head to the sky
Few stones in his hands
My father said
‘‘Thank you Lord for hailstone food! ”
I recall less of other days
When it didn’t rain
Perhaps such days were spent
Patiently waiting to say
“Thank you Lord for hailstone food! ”
Twenty years long wait
Four hearts waiting, breaking
My father waiting, breaking
Waiting! ?
But every body waited for him
I think my father never knew
About the power within him
To make the rain fall
Down once again
And hailstones to scatter
His September lawn
I know now
He was a patient man
Yesterday I dug a hole
And I closed a chapter
With all my childhood’s tears
I put my father in the ground
Funny this:
As the body went down
The clouds began collecting
As the sand filled the hole
The rain began to fall
And as we left the site
White stones scattered the land
poem by LLM Mbatha
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Lying In The Park
On the green grass
And a blue sky
Peace and sunshine
Peace and sunshine
Soon,
Soon Im going bye ? ? ?
Now I just want ? ? ? city
Lookin for the park
Lying down in the park
Lying down in the park
Yeah yeah yeah
See the momma
Down walking the dogs
Down by the fountains
Down by the fountains
Child, child
Eating sandwich and sweets
And your sitting by my fountain
Cooling my feet
In the park
Just before dark
Birds sing so smooth
But the park shut soon
What we going to do
Fine we gonna have to move
But Ill see you tomorrow
Lying down in the park
Lying down in the park
Lying down in the park
Yeah yeah yeah
Feel the warm breeze
Cool by ? ? ?
Seen my good friend
Seen my good friend
So, so
In the afternoon
And we take us for your city ? ? ?
Lookin for the park
Lying down in the park
Lying down in the park
Lying down in the park baby
See that young girl
There she goes man
See that rich bum
The old men playing chess
See that young girl
With that flower dress
See that young girl
With the flower dress
Well soon Im going bye
Now I just might move on
Looking for the park
Lying down in the park
Lying down in the park
Lying down in the park baby
Ill be there
Ill meet you there
Oh baby
Yeah
song performed by by G. Love & Special Sauce
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I'm A Loser
I'm a loser
I'm a loser
And i'm not what i appear to be
Of all the love i have won or have lost
There is one love i should never have crossed
She was a girl in a million, my friend
I should have known she would win in the end
I'm a loser
And i lost someone who's near to me
I'm a loser
And i'm not what i appear to be
Although i laugh and i act like a clown
Beneath this mask i am wearing a frown
My tears are falling like rain from the sky
Is it for her or myself that i cry
I'm a loser
And i lost someone who's near to me
I'm a loser
And i'm not what i appear to be
What have i done to deserve such a fate
I realize i have left it too late
And so it's true, pride comes before a fall
I'm telling you so that you won't lose all
I'm a loser
And i lost someone who's near to me
I'm a loser
And i'm not what i appear to be
song performed by by Beatles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I'm A Looser
Lennon/McCartney)
I'm a loser
I'm a loser
And I'm not what I appear to be
Of all the love I have won or have lost
there is one love I should never have crossed
She was a girl in a million, my friend
I should have known she would win in the end
I'm a loser
And I lost someone who's near to me
I'm a loser
And I'm not what I appear to be
Although I laugh and I act like a clown
Beneath this mask I am wearing a frown
My tears are falling like rain from the sky
Is it for her or myself that I cry
I'm a loser
And I lost someone who's near to me
I'm a loser
And I'm not what I appear to be
What have I done to deserve such a fate
I realize I have left it too late
And so it's true, pride comes before a fall
I'm telling you so that you won't lose all
I'm a loser
And I lost someone who's near to me
I'm a loser
And I'm not what I appear to be
song performed by by Beatles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Old Man
The old man sat on a park bench
just watching the people pass by.
He did it day after day
alone in everyone's eyes.
He would smile occasionally
but no one ever knew why.
Everyone who saw him
wondered why he sat so still
and just looked out
at everyone who passed him there.
The old man sat in repose
from dawn until dusk fell.
He sat there in the summer sun
and as winter's bleakness fell.
He looked for some face
he might remember from his past
so they could reminisce for a while.
Sadly, the years slipped away.
Everyone spoke about him,
but no one ventured to talk.
Then one day the old man
wasn't on the park bench
and he was nowhere to be seen.
Now a different question was asked.
Day after day, the bench was empty.
Where had the old man gone?
Had he simply passed away?
The questions remained unanswered
because no one ever stopped
to enquire of his name.
I would like to think
that in the dying hours
on the park bench one day
that he had found
what he was waiting for
and then happily he faded away.
12 July 2012
poem by David Harris
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Im Carrying
By dawns first light Ill come back to your room again
With my carnation hidden by the packages
Im carrying, something
Im carrying something for you
Ah, long time no see baby sure has been a while
And if my reappearance lacks a sense of style
Im carrying, something
Im carrying something for you
Im carrying.
Im carrying, cant help it.
Im carrying.
Im carrying something for you.
song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Kingfisher
Sitting still on the overhanging branch
this beautiful creation of bright colours.
Vivid Blue with a flash of Orange,
what a spectacular bird you are.
Then a quick lightening dive
coming back with little fish
what a terrific hunter you are.
Proudly you sit on your branch
brightening up the drabness
what a colourful bird you are.
Your such a wonderous sight
small but big on style
what a super bird you are!
poem by Kevin Halls
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Point Blank
Do you still say your prayers little darlin do you go to bed at night
Prayin that tomorrow, everything will be alright
But tommorows fall in number in number one by one
You wake up and youre dying you dont even know what from
Well they shot you point blank you been shot in the back
Baby point blank you been fooled this time little girl thats a fact
Right between the eyes baby, point blank right between the pretty lies that
They tell
Little girl you fell
You grew up where young girls they grow up fast
You took what you were handed and left behind what was asked
But what they asked baby wasnt right you didnt have to live that life,
I was gonna be your romeo you were gonna be my juliet
These days you dont wait on romeos you wait on that welfare check and on all the pretty things that you cant ever have and on all the promises
That always end up point blank, shot between the eyes
Point blank like little white lies you tell to ease the pain
Youre walkin in the sights, girl of point blank
And its one false move and baby the lights go out
Once I dreamed we were together again baby you and me
Back home in those old clubs the way we used to be
We were standin at the bar it was hard to hear
The band was playin loud and you were shoutin somethin in my ear
You pulled my jacket off and as the drummer counted four
You grabbed my hand and pulled me out on the floor
You just stood there and held me, then you started dancin slow
And as I pulled you tighter I swore Id never let you go
Well I saw you last night down on the avenue
Your face was in the shadows but I knew that it was you
You were standin in the doorway out of the rain
You didnt answer when I called out your name
You just turned, and then you looked away like just another stranger waitin to get blown away
Point blank, right between the eyes
Point blank, right between the pretty lies you fell
Point blank, shot right through the heart
Yea point blank, youve been twisted up till youve become just another part of it
Point blank, youre walkin in the sights
Point blank, livin one false move just one false move away
Point blank, they caught you in their sights
Point blank, did you forget how to love, girl, did you forget how to fight.
Point blank they must have shot you in the head
Cause point blank, bang bang baby youre dead.
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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