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A Theory Of Time And Space

Time &
Space is a Big Loaf of Bread
There Peacefully put
on top of your dining table

The knife's sharp edge
cuts through it
and Puts you There

There is an illusion
for the Moment
You see a river flowing
towards the sea
You hear the voice of surging
The rage against the rocks
the sliding upon the banks

Inside that Big Loaf of
Bread are all the ingredients,
The past, the present and the Future
and You may taste it at once

What you have is a moment of illusion
that you cannot be here and there at the same time.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Picture Of Greed

on one hand
he carries a
big loaf of bread
on the other
he carries a
basket
of the same
loaf of bread

on his head
is another
basket of
the same loaf
of bread

a little child
spreads his
hands for
a loaf of bread

then he speeds
his way
as he bites
a loaf of
bread in
his mouth

the little child
follows him
and there he
is closing the
door of his
house all
made of bread

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Nationality

I have grown past hate and bitterness,
I see the world as one;
But though I can no longer hate,
My son is still my son.

All men at God's round table sit,
and all men must be fed;
But this loaf in my hand,
This loaf is my son's bread.

poem by Dame Mary Gilmore
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Nobody Dies Of Hunger

i have not heard
of someone
die of hunger, man always knows how to live
not by bread alone

he also knows how to steal a loaf of bread
and there is no more
prison term for
a loaf so to speak
for society knows
the worth of a loaf and
judges know
the justifications for
hunger,

rice, fish, bread, water,
morsels,
dog food, all these, satisfy hunger

but really
i think more have died not of hunger
but of fear

and yes, i agree with you
loneliness also kills

so which is which
that kills you
the fear of being
alone
and being alone and

lonely

strictly speaking, fear and loneliness
are two distinct
feelings, one is still to come

and by
a very long distance
it hits you right
in the head
and then
you fall like you were executed by nobody, no one,
except
by an empty space,
a false bullet shot by this badge of fraud,

extreme loneliness

the murderer again
whose name
is no one but yourself

what a pity!

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Carpe Diem

actually my dear, the most that matters is
now. This is the moment. There is no other.

what is inside my palm is not yours to guess
for i may not follow your wish
your dream, what is here inside me is alive

but only for this moment, there is no time to think
or imagine. This is only the moment. The now.

This is the only moment. It is now.
Hold my hand. As we pass the river of our lives.

Do not look back, as the rush of the water may be
too harsh. Look at my eyes. This is the only moment.

Do not look down at your feet. The water is flowing.
And flowing. There is nothing that you can hold

with your fingers and drink. It is and it will be impossible
to grasp, a past reality, a future possibility.

This is the only moment.This is the only truth. Grab it
with both hands and tell me. Now, is the only truth. This

moment of our lives. You hear the sound of a cascade.
That is what we are now.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Single Loaf Of Bread

A SINGLE LOAF OF BREAD

All these poems
And all this life
And all this endless writing
Do not buy
A single loaf of bread.

Measured by money
I mean minus forever.

poem by Shalom Freedman
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Compromise used to mean that half a loaf was better than no bread. Among modern statesmen it really seems to mean that half a loaf; is better than a whole loaf.

quote by Gilbert K. Chesterton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Procrastinations Of The Hands

what to do? you know
when to do it? wait a while
there is so much time
unwind, spend more time
to what is unnecessary
loaf like a unleavened
bread
skip the moment
and stare and then record
all the things that you
miss

there's so much undone
but more happiness of the mind

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Toast

Take a loaf of thick white
From out of the fridge,
Undo it, and take out two slices;
Lay both of them gently
Inside the machine,
It's morning, the toaster entices.

Take a second or two
To savour the scene,
Forget every thought of that porridge;
You know in your heart
What you really prefer,
To your loved ones it's just common knowledge.

Now all is set out
On the dining room table,
The marmalade jar is a calling;
The spread is awaited,
The toast has popped up,
Now to linger would just be appaling.

Thick bread or thin,
White bread or brown,
I won't be complainin' or beefin',
It's what I deserve,
My meal is now served,
And I can't wait 'til I get me teeth in!

(Written Sept 2012)

poem by John Carter Brown
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If life’s a river

If life’s a river
Flowing on a course
Long proven to be the best way
To reach the sea, then flow on

If the rocks and boulders
Are the cross
Each one of us is given to bear
Let our river flow around rocks

Over time, the sharp edged rocks will
Be rounded by the rivers flow
Ever there, but not so jagged
As they were before

The ever changing banks have seen
A trickle grow into a youthful stream
And swelling into a mighty river
That sometimes mingles with another

Every river looks for a path
That’s less rocky, a shorter way to the sea
Ever quietly flowing
Ceaselessly searching

Until one day, when it is time
A new path opens
The river changes path
And yet, every river pours into the sea.

poem by Anita Atina
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Fellow

since you are selfish
not wanting to share
your fish
your loaf
your coffee
i decided to imagine that
you do not exist
not even air
which still occupies
space
& weight a matter of my discretion
that is
all too personal
from now on i decided to rely upon
my fish
my own loaf of bread
my own coffee
my own jumping heart in that
Mount of Olives
from now on i go my way
that way
this way
all the way
i have nothing to lose
i am nothing
to you, but let me try my own way
who knows
with the blessings of Lady
Luck
who knows that i can also be
everything
to this and that
whatever that fate brings
on a tray
of fortune.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Coffee Is Fine

Having a brewing cup for coffee is fine,
Facing weather too hot, too much iron.
This strong iron is too late in taste,
Much of the flavours are inside.
The coffee is not tea, not even anything
Like the leaves of danger and bread.
My loaf of bread enriches the stomach
And all emptiness is about.
The cup of coffee has managed my upper class,
My thinking causes thinkers to abandon,
The ridding of thinkers and scholars is appalling
In the extreme.

poem by Naveed Akram
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Reality Ring

'With this ring
I do thee wed'
the preacher said;

and all I could think of
was how beautiful
the pictures would be

and the stories I would have
for my guy friends.

and those
future memories;

and did not hear
clearly
the call for the ring,

I was not present
in that moment
to feel.

So it was with me and
many of us
being anywhere
but where we are;
any time but present time
any place
but this space.

Always outside our time;

and what is real is only

what can be purchased
bought
or experienced
in the future
or the past.
So I am still guessing
what is real?

poem by Lonnie Hicks
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The Phantom of Time

Many years ago
I imagined time flowing
Like a river without banks.

Then I read some books
Of science and they said
That time is an irreversible arrow,
A relentless, unhaltable train,
That moves irresistibly, like fate.

It travels from Past to Future
On invisible wheels
Neglecting to stop
At the railway station
On the road, called Present.

But I was not absolutely sure
That this was all true.
So I watched the clocks
And I saw their hands moving,
Undoubtedly showing,
And with mechanical precision,
The exact hours every day and night.

And I was very impressed that
The scientists had the evidence:
Time was really moving unstoppably.

However, if you think carefully
You will notice that the clock-hands
Do not actually show time, because
What they show is movement in space.

So I have had a question.
If time is indeed in a state of flux,
Flowing like a river without banks,
Or moving and passing
Like an undeviating train;
Then what is its speed?

And since
We measure speed
By the ratio of traveling distance
To the periodic motion of the clock,
How are we supposed to measure
The velocity of time?
By time itself?

Thus,
I came to the conclusion
That the flow of time
Is just a blooming metaphor,
A prosperous illusion:
The years do not pass by.
We pass through the years.

Time does not really exist!

And nevertheless, it does.
It is its own phantom.

For practical purposes,
We need the clock, of course.
Yet, at root, the notion of time
Appears to emanate from
A completely static cosmic womb
Of the universe.

A boundless Sea of Eternity,
Time stands still.

And thus,
In our transient boats
We sail perhaps in quiet waters
From one port to another,
Or navigate perchance
Through turbulent waves
In the Ocean
Of Infinite Duration.

poem by Paul Hartal
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Barmbrack

I break this brack, a bread of fruit,
A bread too good for the eating.
My wives still make me some sawn ring,
A bagel, or a bangle, or sweet pie so much.
My breakfast needs a bracelet
From the opposition, an angry mob,
Who condemn my family of loaf-eaters;
Their argument survived,
And all I ate was the actual bread
That was baked a dozen times a day.

poem by Naveed Akram
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After Many Days

I'VE always been a faithful man
An' tried to live for duty,
But the stringent mode of life
Has somewhat lost its beauty.
The story of the generous bread
He sent upon the waters,
Which after many days returns
To trusting sons and daughters,
Had oft impressed me, so I want
My soul influenced by it,
And bought a loaf of bread and sought
A stream where I could try it.
I cast my bread upon the waves
And fancied then to await it;
It had not floated far away
When a fish came up and ate it.
And if I want both fish and bread,
And surely both I'm wanting,
About the only way I see
Is for me to go fishing.

poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Now!

Out of your whole life give but a moment!
All of your life that has gone before,
All to come after it, -- so you ignore,
So you make perfect the present, condense,
In a rapture of rage, for perfection's endowment,
Thought and feeling and soul and sense,
Merged in a moment which gives me at last
You around me for once, you beneath me, above me --
Me, sure that, despite of time future, time past,
This tick of life-time's one moment you love me!
How long such suspension may linger? Ah, Sweet,
The moment eternal -- just that and no more --
When ecstasy's utmost we clutch at the core,
While cheeks burn, arms open, eyes shut, and lips meet!

poem by Robert Browning
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Eden

A moment in time
that goes on foever
The crumbs falling from the loaf
at the sermon on the mount
The last kiss of Pluto's
to a far away star
The psssage out of
the gates of Eden

poem by Midnights Voice
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Time Goes On Forever

A moment in time
that goes on forever

The crumbs falling
from a loaf
at the sermon on the mount

The last kiss
of Pluto's
to a far away star

The passage
out of the
gates of Eden

and all my love
that goes
out to you

poem by Midnights Voice
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Inside the House of Bread

Everyone has a table inside the house of bread
Pouring in into the chairs the fish have come to roost
Its already started to happen inside the house of bread
Feasting and Forever enough to go around the table.

And I keep to myself in the age of all this water
We can share an ocean but don’t drink from my open well
I wont mind sharing in the house of bread
Everyone at the table deserves to be fed

poem by James Daniel Gabriel
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For Want of a Loaf of Bread

For want of a loaf of bread,
A child was lost.
For want of a child,
A family was lost.
For want of a family,
A community was lost.
For want of a community,
A Town was lost.
For want of a town,
A state was lost.
For want of a state,
A nation was lost.
For want of a nation
A society was lost.

All for the want of a loaf of bread.

Making fuel from grain has unintended consequences.

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poem by Sidi J. Mahtrow
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