A Variation Of The Day To Day Routine
finally you drive your car
to the place that you have not been too
it is grassy out there
and the hills are rolling
and the skies spread
all the blue
below it is the sea
and the white coast
with sea gulls
and coconut trees
and clouds drifting with
the wind
you step out from your car
and take the deepest breath
in your life
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
Treasure
Im coming in, got the wood stove on
At the end of a treasured day
Take off my hat and shoes
And I lay me down
Lives been lost and fortunes won
A test of the will to survive
See where the shadow falls
And you stake your claim
Chorus
I dream of trees and roads
I roam across the hills
The sky is big, the deepest blue,
The clouds like smoky trains
News coming in , goes nation wide
Not a grain of truth to be heard
Lie to an ancient tribe, in their mother tongue
Wreaking havoc and wrecking lives
Like a ball and chain to the skull
Rise see the eagle fly
Spirit cant be broken
I dream of trees and roads
I roam across the hills
The sky is big, the deepest blue,
The clouds like smoky trains
Bridge
I dream of trees and roads
I roam across the hills
The sky is big, the deepest blue,
The clouds like smoky trains
song performed by by Erasure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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They Tremble
The winter wind is wonderfully warm today,
clouds, contrails mostly, criss-cross the sky,
white spaghetti in blue sauce, and spicy
The trees rock gently in the desert's breath
birds play games merrily in the sky,
wild squirrels dance psychotic summersaults
It is morning, the must of mondays is moribund
soothing shadows sing with simmering spirits,
dust and debris lies dead on the driveway,
In the car we huddle, and I tune to bluegrass
we drive, far up the canyons, smiling and laughing
here we are, finally; on this back country road
Here blue brush bows along the bumpy road,
hawks hang high above in hungry harmony
and gum trees gather in guarded groves
We watch the trees, listen to the subdued wind
a moment only, we see the leaves tremble
they tremble, and then one by one, they fall
poem by Poet Dragon
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At The Seaside, A Solitude
the seaside is peaceful
the sky is blue with white cumulus clouds hanging there
slowly they move and change shapes
like the air is painting and mixing the colors in space
gentle hues graceful strokes
the white sands extend to some miles
the coconut trees are like handshakes
their shadows restive and steady
i lay my body weary of the years
i look at all these lines and circles and spheres
i like to give up thinking and just be a spectator
i let them talk and i merely listen
the seaside, the seagull, the clouds, the coconut trees, the white sands,
the circles and spheres and lines extending
to nowhere.
i cover my eyes with a straw hat. I cease.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Blue Skies Bring Tears
Unleash the armageddon
So all the children go to heaven
I sit by quiet still
With their pictures on my eyes
You'll draw the guns your given
Write down the words as written
And never disturb the presense
Of resurrection touch
And it's about time
It's about drawing near
Blue skies bring tears
Blue skies bring tears
Blue skies bring tears
Descend the darkened stairway
Make hate with plastic playmates
And fire out remaining traces
Of your self esteem
Mainline the deepest secrets
Lick clean the dirty fingers
I am a stranger to you
As you are to yourself
And it's about time
It's about fear
Blue skies bring tears
Don't you want me (don't want you)
Cause I await cityside
We'll watch the seas start to die
Blue skies bring tears
Take me inside your body
Blue skies bring tears
Cover me with your soul
Blue skies bring tears
To the darkest reasons
Blue skies bring tears
Is where I wish to go
Blue skies bring tears
You are the sweetest flower
Blue skies bring tears
That I have ever devoured
Blue skies bring tears
I ask for nothing given
Blue skies bring tears
For nothing in return
Blue skies bring tears
Blue skies bring tears
Blue skies bring tears
Blue skies bring tears
Blue skies bring tears
Blue skies bring tears
Blue skies bring tears
Blue skies bring tears
Blue skies bring tears
Blue skies bring tears
Blue skies bring tears
Blue skies bring tears
Blue skies bring tears
Blue skies bring tears
Blue skies bring tears
Blue skies bring tears
song performed by by Smashing Pumpkins from Machina: The Machines Of God
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Green Ricefields
green ricefields spreading to a distance
some white herons circling and landing finding a hiding place
for a while gone and then the wind comes from the trees swaying
the white herons in a flock of fives fly away again
to another rectangular spread of a green ricefield
a scarecrow stands in the middle of the place
the clouds arrive turning from pale to grey to blue
the sun has come in full grandeur
i am just amazed, sitting on a bench praying
simply watching and wondering
they all say that i am lazy and doing nothing
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Without The Chase
August 31,2009
Pink to blue, to yellow,
to monstrous purple clouds looming on the horizon;
My horizon, layed out before me.
I step out, look up and it flies away.
You fly away. I jump for you
and I am leaping, bounding,
stretchng beyond my limits into pink and blue,
and pink and blue.
But you're gone.
I settle again, shrug, and look
to the monstrous purple clouds.
I could fly away without the chase,
theres just no desire for me to have it any other way.
I blink, and look up again to purple,
lavender, yellow, clouds of the deepest grey.
Dusk settles.
All of a sudden, I can hear everything.
Crickets, every far off chirp in trees.
I smile as I step back in.
Back into sheltered silence.
poem by Monica O'Connor
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The Winds Message
There came a whisper down the Bland between the dawn and dark,
Above the tossing of the pines, above the river's flow;
It stirred the boughs of giant gums and stalwart iron-bark;
It drifted where the wild ducks played amid the swamps below;
It brought a breath of mountain air from off the hills of pine,
A scent of eucalyptus trees in honey-laden bloom;
And drifting, drifting far away along the Southern line
It caught from leaf and grass and fern a subtle strange perfume.
It reached the toiling city folk, but few there were that heard--
The rattle of their busy life had choked the whisper down;
And some but caught a fresh-blown breeze with scent of pine that stirred
A thought of blue hills far away beyond the smoky town;
And others heard the whisper pass, but could not understand
The magic of the breeze's breath that set their hearts aglow,
Nor how the roving wind could bring across the Overland
A sound of voices silent now and songs of long ago.
But some that heard the whisper clear were filled with vague unrest;
The breeze had brought its message home, they could not fixed abide;
Their fancies wandered all the day towards the blue hills' breast,
Towards the sunny slopes that lie along the riverside,
The mighty rolling western plains are very fair to see,
Where waving to the passing breeze the silver myalls stand,
But fairer are the giant hills, all rugged though they be,
From which the two great rivers rise that run along the Bland.
Oh! rocky range and rugged spur and river running clear,
That swings around the sudden bends with swirl of snow-white foam,
Though we, your sons are far away, we sometimes seem to hear
The message that the breezes bring to call the wanderers home.
The mountain peaks are white with snow that feeds a thousand rills,
Along the rive banks the maize grows tall on virgin land,
And we shall live to see once more those sunny southern hills,
And strike once more the bridle track that leads along the Bland.
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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One Saturday Morning At The Mountain Top Inside The House
it is raining outside
it is the habitualness of the image that flows inside us
green grass and rolling hills and clouds a drifting
the sound of rain like footsteps of children playing under the shower from heaven
i sit upon a chair looking outside
i am not thinking about anything simply watching the rain
the green grass
the trees the sea and the horizon that extends more than what my eyes can see
more than what i can contain
this empty bowl with a wide mouth open
this hollowness that cannot speak because it does not have the exact words
to say
it seems to me that the correct existence that fills this void is nothing
but the silence of the trees, the grass, the hills and the far away seas
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Stepping On The Stairs
in wanting to go up
you step on the stairs
on the first step
you have to please this black dog
with the meat of a cat
on the second step
you have to deceive this white cat
with the whiskers of a fish
on the third step
you have to please this pink mouse
with a collar of a black dog
rising on the fourth step
you have to convince the hawk
that the white cat is dead
advancing on the fifth step
the bull demands that the fish
must be caught with its fins clipped off
the sixth step is meticulous
you have to find a way to
reconcile the black cat and the white dog
on the seventh you will be confused
what to do and whom to really please
to reach the eight step
the ninth step has this owl
speaking to you to finally proceed
to the tenth step
and you want to advance some more
trying to figure out what these animals
are asking you to do without
creating all the chaos
you want to please them all
to get what you want
finally you take the tenth step
and you are too weary and guilty
and up there you find
there is really nothing worth
the taking at the end
there is just the wind
blowing your hair telling you nothing
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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at the beach in boracay February 2011
the coconut trees
line up the white sands
along the shores
of my privacy
like green umbrellas
with hands and fingers
touching no one here
but only skies
the sea is a lonely woman
with a flat blue belly
waiting for our legs and arms
in this place i am obscene
still thinking about what i should not have shared with you
i tell the sea
i am in love and i must be forgiven
but it does not believe me
the sands as usual
look at me with blank eyes
the waves are all
having their tongues-in-cheek
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Emma Concepcion Zanoria
emma of the green meadows
on the skies of white and blue
along the paths of flowers
of reds and yellows
how often have i dreamed of you
on the valleys of ricefields
where the winds of Karupay pass
along the tall coconut trees
to the mysteries of the
pacific ocean
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Travel
the fast craft slices the oceans
of our passage
from one island to another
day by day
we see the sea foams
and the skies
that we cut through
the sea gulls and the sun
meet us on the shore lines
of the port
another destination
of this travel
this wandering
another arrival greets us
smiling faces telling us
welcome
welcome
we are offering you this paradise
white sands
cool shady coconut trees
sweet queen's pineapple
crunchy to your teeth
pamper your tongues
beside the blue pools
reflecting the clouds
and our faces
we splash and take
what the jacuzzi offers
the sweet conversation begins
you are beside me
your legs touching mine
we make whispers
the water so cool and relaxing
you are warmer than the morning sun
we confirm again
distances
we confirm again the power of nearness
we affirm us in our arms
we close our eyes
the world is still
and it is indeed beautiful
inside us
on soundless splashes
the waters in our minds run deep
we fall in love again
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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It Really Never Was...
the day is getting darker
painting shadows on the wall
broken wings of blue skies
going for a moment
everything's now in the evening
with longings in the deep
and wishes still not happening
the winter
glasses with frosty roses
and perfect days in somberness
in the white weather
every thought
is now alone
reaching to the mountains
faraway
in silences of time
every hour
is cold and getting colder
with drifting clouds
in northern skies
that can't hold back
how do I not be alone
when times are like these
how do I not feel the blues
when the clouds surrounds me
with few landings
into summer thoughts
every hour
is cold and getting colder
with drifting clouds
in northern skies
that can't hold back
the winter
comes soft and sweet
with clean glisten thoughts
and snowflakes that never stop pouring...
when it gets cold outside
the winter
oh the winter
how fresh it can get
how cold it can get
it really never was...
full of romantic
it just has these surprises
in the weather
that can't hold back
the clouds that surrounds me
it really never was...
just the winter
it really never was...
just the winter
poem by Peter S. Quinn
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I am poem
I am rolling in he deep
I wonder when i will stop rolling with everyone else
I hear people saying bad things about me it makes me feel that i should kepp rolling intil i am depp in sorrow
I see everyone still while i am rolling all around
I want to stop rolling in deep sorrow
I am rolling in the deep
I pretend to be like everyone else not rolling in deep regret but still, still as life can be
I feel in deep sorrow rolling in the worst thoughts
I worry about someone finding out about my deepest darkest secrets
I cry when i can not stop rolling in deep sorrow
I am roliing in the deep
I undersyand that one day i will stop rolling in the deep regret
I i say that no one should be rolling in deeo sorrow but still
I dream that i am still that none of those deep thoughts have ever accured
I try to stop the rolling but the rolling is going to the deepest regret the rolling has taken over
I hope one day one minute one moment oone second one hor i willl stop rolling
I an rolling in the deep
poem by Haadia Ansari
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Drive-in
Ooo wah
Ooo wah
Everytime I have a date theres only one place to go
Thats to the drive in
Its such a groovy place to talk and maybe watch a show
Down at the drive in
Forget about the plot, itll do very well
But make sure you see enough so youre prepared to tell
About the drive in
(ooo wah)
I love the drive in
(we love the drive in, we love the drive in)
If the windows get fogged youll have to take a breath
(oooooooo waah oooo)
Down at the drive in
(wah wah ooooooo)
Or the cat dressed in white will scare you both to death
Down at the drive in
A big buttered popcorn and an extra large coke
A few chili dogs and man Im goin broke
Down at the drive in
(ooo wah)
Yeah at the drive in
(we love the drive in, we love the drive in)
Dont sneak your buddies in the trunk cause they might get caught
By the drive in
(wah wah wah ooooooo)
And theyd look kinda stupid gettin chased through the lot
(wah ooooooo)
Around the drive in
If you say you watch the movie youre a couple o liars
And remember only you can prevent forest fires
Down at the drive in
(ooo wah)
I love the drive in
(we love the drive in, we love the drive in)
Down at the drive in
(ooo wah)
I love the drive in
(we love the drive in, we love the drive in)
Down at the drive in
(ooo wah)
I love the drive in
(we love the drive in, we love the drive in)
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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After The Day
when day folds
like an umbrella after a rain
of heat and light,
we must welcome the night
as a nesting place of love
and rest
we must journey into the fields
of dreams
blue skies, soft clouds
drifting in our minds
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Rolling Hills
Among the rolling hills Ill live my life in him
Oh I will live my life in him among the rolling hills
With my wife and child Ill do no man no ill
Oh I will do no man no ill among the rolling hills
Among the rolling hills Ill read my Bible still
Oh I will read my Bible still among the rolling hills
With my pen Ill write my song among the rolling hills
With my pen Ill write my song among the rolling hills
I will do my jig among the rolling hills
Oh I will do my jig and live among the rolling hills
With my pen Ill write my song among the rolling hills
Ill take out my pen and write my song among the rolling hills
And Ill stand and watch it all among the rolling hills
Oh I will stand and watch it all among the rolling hills
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wings
Pearl-gray is the sky,
And high within it, sailing by,
Three sea-gulls fly.
Pearl-white are they
Against the sky's obscurer gray—
Sea-foam astray.
Gulls, sea-gulls white,
Drift of the day, drift of the night,
Mine be your flight!
Out—out, with you
Beyond the noise, into the blue!
Ah—if I knew!
poem by Harriet Monroe
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The Old Magic
Gray is the sea, and the skies are gray;
They are ghosts of our blue, bright yesterday;
And gray are the breasts of the gulls that scream
Like tortured souls in an evil dream.
There is white on the wings of the sea and sky,
And white are the gulls' wings wheeling by,
And white, like snow, is the pall that lies
Where love weeps over his memories.
For the dead is dead, and its shroud is wrought
Of good unfound and of wrong unsought;
Yet from God's good magic there ever springs
The resurrection of holy things.
See--the gold and blue of our yesterday
In the eyes and the hair of a child at play;
And the spell of joy that our youth beguiled
Is woven anew in the laugh of the child.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Ebb-Tide
NOW the vexed clouds, wind-driven, spread wings of white,
Long leaning wings across the sea and land.
The waves creep back bequeathing to our sight
The treasure-house of their deserted sand,
And where the nearer waves curl white and low,
Knee-deep in swirling brine the slow-foot shrimpers go.
Pale breadth of sand, where clamorous gulls confer,
Marked with broad arrows by their planted feet;
White rippled pools, where late deep waters were
And ever the white waves marshalled in retreat
And the grey wind in sole supremacy
O'er opal and amber cold of darkening sky and sea.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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