A View From Here
a house is deserted
beside the sea
the waves are gentle
the coconut tree stands
the cassava plants are steady
a cab passes by
carrying a man and a child
this is a closed room
with glass windows
you see the water from the pipe
flowing fast as though chasing some gravel
you hear nothing.
except your words.
you are talking
alone. how can you stop?
a silent world.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
That Afternoon
i was there again
standing by the side of the old
glass windows
hazy because of the dust
it is hazy, hazy
the sea is linen white
the coconut trees as tall as they are very old
planted perhaps before the war
before the Japanese came
and ravished the spirits of our innocent people
i was there again
standing on a moment
always seeing
that rusty van parked
without its front wheel
nobody from there is asking
what is happening
it is hazy, as hazy as dusts
on that old glass window
then a black bird flies through
it breaking the thin old glass
into shattered pieces
the afternoon ended
on that sudden noise
i am telling you
i am not shocked because
i am not new to this
how can i be? i am as old and as
tall as that coconut tree
i am from this place
and i know each grain of sand
on the shore
of that white linen sea.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Before Winter
The wind is crying in the night,
Like a lost child;
The waves break wonderful and white
And wild.
The drenched sea-poppies swoon along
The drenched sea-wall,
And there's an end of summer and of song -
An end of all.
The fingers of the tortured boughs
Gripped by the blast
Clutch at the windows of your house
Closed fast.
And the lost child of love, despair,
Cries in the night,
Remembering how once those windows were
Open and bright.
poem by Edith Nesbit
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Welcome To A Safehouse
this may look like
the house of a dove
for it has but one
pillar
for it has many windows
without an enclosure
it towers above them
almost touching
the hands of the wind
the sounds of cries
are as gentle as the early morning waves
on storms that fail to come
not much words here
just signs and
gazes
this the house of my mind
the doves of my thoughts
on the pillar of
privacy
on the windows of openness
no dogmas here
but freedom.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
An umbrella tree
As an umbrella without an umbrella,
A tree stands under the Sun all the day,
Serving you and me as an umbrella.
Giving oxygen and sucking poison,
A tree clears the air for us to breathe.
Offering its all parts to all animals,
Does it demand anything in return?
With no shield to defend with, nor a sword
To offend with, it stands for our mercy.
We are indebted to plants much more than
To animals and humans for our lease.
To kill it is to murder it, a crime.
To be ungrateful to it is a sin.
To dig your own grave is the biggest fun.
Be a tree for each house, planted and grown.
Be a tree for each child, to grow along.
Things made of wood be gone out of demand,
With carpenters rehabilitated.
New roads be cut with pits made for trees.
Like orphanage, stray trees may get a home.
Youngsters, unless you resolve it with faith,
The world to the future will have no mirth.
24.05.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Vote! | Copy!
Soon, Sometime
soon, is mother's
usual word for hope
so i may not retreat
and lurk by the dark
corner and weep.
soon when your
papa comes soon
when he is finally
forgiven, soon
when the storm
is over soon when
the house is
again strenthened
by its walls and
scaffolds
soon when you grow
up to be a man soon
when you are big
enough to understand
what really is the matter
why the roof leaks why
the door is always closed
why the glass windows
are misty
soon my son she says
soon you will have stronger
hands to hold on to a
pillar soon my son you
will have a brain that
travels beyond this
trifles soon my son you
will have wings to fly
and soon you will know
that this life is our journey
towards an uncertain
destination soon my son
you will know that you will
always be going and going
and goind soon you will
know my son, that there
is no stopping that there
is only an overlapping
of waves and shore and
waves and shore in the
never ending ebb and
rise of life and death.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I Am As Nothing.
I am as nothing, said Sister Clare;
I am a tool in the Lord’s hands, His
Words wake me from sleep, His
Utterance disperses my dreams.
I wake to the birds’ chorus, the sun
Rises at my elbow, the moon goes
As my eyes take sight. I dress while
Uttering an Ave, wash the night from
My eyes and skin, sense the waters’
Coldness through my fingers’ hold.
From my window I see the cranberry
Tree in the cloister garth; early birds
Perched in the branches, sunlight
Flittering through the green leaves.
Sister Blaise stares up at the sky, her
Hands hidden beneath her habit’s cloth,
Her head to one side. God sees all, my
Mother said, He knows you better than
You know yourself, knows your thoughts
Like a well read book, He understands
Your ways and wants, marks your sins
In the big black book. I leave my room,
Walk down the stairs to the cloister’s
Path, run my palm on the wall’s rough
Brick, my feet taking the steady step,
My blue eyes lowered, my thoughts run
Off like children at play. I gather my
Thoughts like a shepherd his sheep,
I pen them tight into my skull’s sides.
Flowers in the flowerbeds pull my eyes,
Yellows and reds and blues feed my mind.
Sister Rose stands by the bell, her hands
Holding the rough rope, her eyes lit up like
Candles at night, her smile like a child’s kiss.
I pass her by with a gentle nod, taking note
Of her fingers’ hold. I enter the church with
A steady pace, smell incense on the air’s skin;
See sunlight through high windows, beaming
Down on the choir stalls and cold stone floor.
I sit and wait for matins to begin, wait for my
Bruised groom carrying the whole world’s sin.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Playful Breeze's Pleasant Acts
The playful Breeze touching me softly passes on;
Tells sweet tales in hush-hush voice in my ears;
Removes all my weariness with its healing hugs;
Calls me to close my eyes to sing my dear melodies;
Plucks all my stresses to toss away off its way;
To every tree it does have a story full of joy;
The peepul tree laughs heartily clapping its million palms;
The neem tree tosses up its bushy boughs bursting forth in glee;
Enjoys on the swings of sky-scrapping coconut trees;
Plants sweet kisses on the lips of all tiny blooms;
Dances merrily clasping the hands of tender creepers;
Carries on its back the blissful loads of colourful birds;
The green fields are in ecstatic thrills of swirling joys;
O the Nature is in absolute joyeverywhere today;
Hey folks! of your house-prisons do rush out all;
Let us do jolly jigs on riverside sands with the Breeze!
poem by Sundaram Chandrakalaadhar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Alankar(Decor) -99
Coconut-ty Dream
Fatigued he slept under the coconut tree
Dreaming with usual self climbing up the tree
And in routine fear the tree shivered
And swayed wild unknowing itself to free
And he took out the sickle and severed
One by one the bunches dropped slivered
And lo, rested his soul up the tree
Lessoned not to die of a dream quivered
poem by Indira Renganathan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Into My Own Privacy....
i do not wish that you become a part of me
like light to my room
i do not need any
i thrive in the comfort of my own darkness
with an option
whether to partake with light
or not
i am but a room with a little space
a small bed enough for my arms and legs
just enough
for my sleep,
i destroyed the ceiling
so i can see the
stars
i closed the windows and doors
so i cannot be
with anybody
i do not wish you to stay and be friendly
i like to enjoy how is it to be unfriendly
in some
moments where i cherish my own privacy
the silence of the paper in cohort with the pen
that romance with words and symbols
and in between thoughts, the precious solitude of
not being with anyone,
i am both the deserting and the deserted.
it's a certain stage and i want more of it
without all of you, i have this gift of thought.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Evening Coconut
The statue of liberty is breathing in the air
Atlantis is waiting down below.
Late at night, flashing lights are sighted in the air.
Its no secret, what everybody knows.
It really dont matter much, which way I go.
But remember to pull over in the storm.
Have you seen the evening coconut
Bobbing on the bay?
Standing on the waters edge of stone
Someone there besides you
To hear the words you say
To show you things your eyes have never known.
Evening coconut, evening coconut
Evening coconut, evening coconut
Evening coconut, evening coconut
Evening coconut, evening coconut
Evening coconut, evening coconut
The statue of liberty is breathing in the air
While atlantis is waiting down below.
Late at night, flashing lights are sighted in the air.
Its no secret, what everybody knows.
Evening coconut, evening coconut
Evening coconut, evening coconut
Evening coconut, evening coconut
Evening coconut, evening coconut
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Baguio city, a memory....
i remember
that coldness of December
we stayed
on top of that hill
below us
all fog
around us trees
foggy trees
the glass window
is hazy
the heat from the fireplace
gives
the warmth that we cannot
give
to each other
my mind played on the
waves of fire
when all the lights are closed
at midnight
i remember
i went out of my room
went outside the house
climbed the fence and
stood there with my arms raised in surrender
i was too lonely
and did not know what to do
where to
i was broken.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Fogging Up The Windows
the sound of a small child crying
hungry in the night
of a young woman sleepless
waiting for daylight
the sound of church bells ringing
not too far away
the sound of an old man dying
remembering how to pray
the sound of two hearts breaking
a thousand miles apart
of the last tear a fallin'
unseen in the dark
the sound of lifetimes wasted
of a love that didnt last
the sound of memories forgotten
of a time already past
can you hear?
can you hear?
a lone tree a fallin'
a hoot owl callin'
life and death, a lover's breath
fogging up the windows
of an empty room...
fogging up the windows
of an empty room...
the sound of the nails driven
into His screaming hands
the sound of salvation
entrusted to a man
the sound of bodies falling
of buildings swept by flame
the sound of different voices
whose souls are the same
can you hear?
can you hear?
a lone tree a fallin'
a hoot owl callin'
life and death, a lover's breath
fogging up the windows
of an empty room...
fogging up the windows
of an empty room....
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Dropping By Your House This Morning
i dropped by your house this very early morning
the windows are closed
but the door is half-open
and i could have given in to this little curiosity
that cats keep on their paws
and soft feet
or hands if you may
but i didn't. there is something in the houe
that says
you had a bad day and that night you did not have
a sound sleep
the roses are wilting and a flower pot falls on the ground
broken
the soil splashed like spilled water on the grass
there is no sound of the wind
from the storm last night
i just dropped by. I respect you. The door of the house
finally closed
i did not see the hands that closed it.
it maybe yours
or someone else's
the rug has spoken. You want to be alone.
to keep the faint light left
in that little room. the curtains fall. the lights
went off on that very early morning.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
X
in this house of mine
there are many rooms and windows and stairs
you are invited
to take your rest and mind each piece
of myself
displayed and open for view
and even for touch
and even
for your tasting
not even for a moment but for a long time
for as long as all these shall last
but there is one door that you cannot open
one window that is closed
one room which is dark
there is nothing there except my secret longing
no one opens it for no one can
no one sees what is inside it for no one can
there is this fruit in my tree of paradise
that you cannot taste
and touch
and even see
it is only for me and i do not really like it.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Just a little poem about a house
A house made out of glass and bricks
That has seen some tricks
A house that has been here for years
This house has witnessed some happiness and some tears
This is house used to be my home,
Used to call it my dome
Now it doesn’t exist anymore
Glass and bricks are swept to the floor
Memories of the past, weren’t meant to last
The only thing that still stands, is the drawing in your hands.
poem by Oopsie Woopsie
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Not Finished
A perfect night
the stars are sparkling bright
staring into the sky,
the little house in the creek
sits nestled under the tall mossy tree
the house aged by nature...beautiful
as the rain starts to pour
the tall mossy tree protects the house and its front door
the mossy tree bears the weight of the sky
as the house is kept dry
more clouds swarm in recklessly
lightning cracks as it sets fire to the tall mossy tree
the tree stands strong....
but i doesn't know if it can last long
as the rain runs down the tree's trunk and roots
like tears
poem by Wandering Scarlet
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
What looks in (windows and rain)
Rain upon windows…
Dark bedroom walls
Shimmering pastel mists
down shadowed halls
Windows of ebon black…
and cold Crystal light
Transparently solid through
Both dark and night
Seemingly liquid… in rivulets
Of slithers of rains
Silver sheet of mercury
Over fevered panes
Half seen reflections
enshroud the palpable dark
And imagined…(or real) things
Seem to quiver, dance and spark
Leaves strike... then flee
Tossed by cold fingers of wind
Tree branches rap upon the glass
as if wanting to come in
Pull covers o’er your head
Scrinch closed your eyes e’er so tight
Tis only windows they are…
So no real reason for fright
But… for what looks back in…
Through your windows tonight
poem by David Whalen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The heart of a tree
With branches reaching out as if for a embrace
The tree may bow to nature with grace.
He stands alone when the wind blows strong.
The leaves may fall, but the tree stands tall.
There are some things that the eyes can't see.
Like the heart of a tree.
In winter's cold chill, You can see the tree stand still.
Leaves are gone but the tree stands strong.
Until winter turns into spring and the birds begin to sing.
The leaves may fall, but the tree stands tall.
There are some things that the eyes can't see.
Like the heart of a tree.
Through storms and the wind. Bowing with a graceful bend,
Until the sun shines again, still standing at the end,
The tree is like a true friend.
The leaves may fall, but the tree stands tall.
There are some things that the eye can't see,
Like the heart of a tree.
The old Tree's secrets
How many lovers sat together under the old tree?
If only the tree could speak.
The stories would be of weary travelers
finding a place of peace, and dreams in their sleep.
Stolen moments of lovers, perhaps a sweet caress.
A young man with a ring, a young girl said yes.
Tree I only imagine, I enjoy the guess.
Gentle breezes that lifted the leaves
to let them gently fall to earth.
Misting rain to meet the tree's thirst,
Perhaps two trees inter-twined are
Two lovers that were curst.
poem by Judy Arline Puckett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Coconut Cream
There's a cannon shooting
coconut cream
40 gallons in a steady stream
there's a cannon shooting
coconut cream
40 gallons at a steady stream
It's wing music to a happy cat
he likes his butterflies
slow and fat
and wing music to a happy cat
he likes his butterflies
slow and fat
Us little christians in a circle
jerk
til our daddy gets home from
work
all us good christians in a circle
jerk
til our daddy gets home from
work
There's a cannon shooting
coconut cream
40 gallons in a steady stream
there's a cannon that shoots
coconut cream
40 gallons in a steady stream
song performed by by The Tragically Hip from Trouble At The Henhouse
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!