About Nothing At All
imagine an
empty space
your hands
have nothing
to hold
you float and
there is nothing
to land
a ship without
sea
no port visible
no anchor
no lighthouse
there is no storm
neither calm nor
chaos
there is no
poetry since
there are no
words
no thoughts
no spark
no inspiration
there is no house
there is
a vast emptiness
nothing follows.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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About Nothing At All (2)
imagine an
empty space
your hands
have nothing
to hold
you float and
there is nothing
to land
a ship without
sea
no port visible
no anchor
no lighthouse
there is no storm
neither calm nor
chaos
there is no
poetry since
there are no
words
no thoughts
no spark
no inspiration
there is no house
there is
a vast emptiness
nothing follows.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Thy Ship
Hadst thou a ship, in whose vast hold lay stored
The priceless riches of all climes and lands,
Say, woudst thou let it float upon the seas
Unpiloted, of fickle winds the sport,
And of wild waves and hidden rocks the prey?
Thine is that ship; and in its depths concealed
Lies all the wealth of this vast universe –
Yea, lies some part of God’s omnipotence
The legacy divine of every soul.
Thy will, O man, thy will is that great ship,
And yet behold it drifting here and there –
One moment lying motionless in port,
Then on high seas by sudden impulse flung,
Then drying on the sands, and yet again
Sent forth on idle quests to no-man’s land
To carry nothing and to nothing bring;
Till worn and fretted by the aimless strife
And buffeted by vacillating winds
It flounders on a rock, or springs a leak
With all its unused treasures in the hold.
Go save thy ship, thou sluggard; that the wheel
And steer to knowledge, glory and success.
Great mariners have made the pathway plain
For thee to follow; hold thou to the course
Of Concentration Channel, and all things
Shall come in answer to thy swerveless wish
As comes the needle to the magnet’s call,
Or sunlight to the prisoned blade of grass
That yearns all winter for the kiss of spring.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Emptiness Comes
EMPTINESS COMES
Emptiness comes-
There is nothing to say
Nothing to write-
But Nothing is for me only nothing
It is not the goal and the meaning-
Egolessness belongs to saints of a certain kind
I am not a saint-
Emptiness disappears with the writing
Words and meanings come-
I suppose one will be empty forever
When one is alive
What can Emptiness give?
I have written against the Emptiness
And am less empty now for now-
Thank God I no longer feel empty now-
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Meditation Poem 1 - Emptiness of the Mind
emptiness of the mind
a realm bigger than this head can hold
bigger than dead could hold
it is when you are absorbed in
the blossoming of a night flower
every second it scents time like heaven
emptiness of the mind
it is when your mind fills a huge boulder
like a soul, sprawled over the universe
taking in all with solid stoicism
a desire frozen by coldness
harder to break than rock
emptiness of the mind
it is when your mind cast a bigger mystery
than the black hole
so vast and empty you realise the zen of things
that there are things surviving on emptiness,
just being empty
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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What It Is Really?
somewhere our words take us
beyond
somehow we write because we
must rise
some build ships
some of us have to create an ocean to make these ships sail
some of us must know each feather to make us wings
some of us must assure that we too can fly
for we are part of this lonely planet looking for a cure
of humanity's universal sickness
this emptiness that no one feels
if i must, if need be, we too have to create God to create us
it is said He created us in His own image
and we who are lonely and fearful must accept and simply believe
we pay nothing for this
we only have an imagination
some of us has to settle in that bottom of faith
some floors must hold us as we float in space and need to land
we create floors we recreate the meaning of floating and settling
we are tired and what we need most is this peace
the calmness of everything is our dream
somewhere somehow we are and so we keep on writing
some of us has to imagine that we are at rest
some mock us because we seem to be always in motion
eternity, infinity, this somehow this somewhere
always taking us away from us
somehow somewhere we think we understand
we grope we feel and yet we are unable to hold any
and so we keep on saying and saying and saying
but what it is really? what it is really?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Poetry is Everywhere
To all my friends who say –
Poetry is not my cup of tea,
I’d strongly recommend that
they watch “Dead Poet’s Society”.
Poetry is in your cup of tea,
poetry is in every wave of the sea,
poetry is in the song of a bird
poetry springs forth from each of your word.
Poetry is in the smile of a baby,
poetry is in the redness of a ruby,
poetry is the union of your heart and mind
poetry teaches you to be soft and kind.
Poetry is the song of your soul,
poetry reminds you of your life’s goal,
poetry is in a game of cricket,
poetry is in the sound of a cricket.
Imagine life without poetry -
What an empty life it would be!
Imagine a world without poetry -
What a dull place it would be!
09 June 2010
! 2: 50 pm
poem by Gita Ashok
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Little Lighthouse
Shes a little lighthouse when she
Opens up her huge eyes
And streams of diamonds shoot out
til were wading waist deep in her brilliant love
Shes a little lighthouse when she
Opens up her red mouth
And gold word ribbons rope and rodeo
The dark clouds in bouquet above
For how long will this dark age last?
For how long must we wait to learn?
Across the black and fossil ocean vast
I spy love and she doth brightly burn
Love sure lives in the right house
Shes a little lighthouse when she
Opens up her huge mind and
Thoughts descending spears of crystal
Build a jacobs ladder up to love
Shes a little lighthouse
When she opens up her red dress
Show skin of rubber marble
Lit by knowledge and the fireflies above
And can others see this splendid beam?
Or do they navigate in dark?
If you ever want to dock your dream
Well youll need love to guide your fragile ark
Love sure keeps a bright house
Shes a little lighthouse
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In Here
in here we come
without promises
of stars
we are free to go
leaving is not difficult
it is all in our minds
this dizziness about
our existence as poets
the last bulwark of
erotic thoughts
this is the place of
certain confidences
we write what we think
not what we are
we empathize we get into
the shoes of another we weep
as though we do not own any
tear we keep the silence sometimes
as though we own space
we move as though we are
the river we fall as though
we are the rain
this is this place
welcome back to this world
of words
bring in the emptiness
think that soon you shall be full
and then empty yourself again
feel the essences
of all these nothingness
i have come with empty hands
and i shall leave
without my face.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Imagine (Love Poem)
Imagine the world ….
….if you had never said “Hello”
Imagine the space….
….where you were meant to be
Imagine waking up….
….in a forever empty bed
Imagine the absent closeness….
….and perfect pleasures lost
Imagine a time….
….before your tender touch
Imagine the future….
….if fragile friendships end
Imagine the energy….
….we must spend to stop this
Imagine the heat….
….that our love will generate
Imagine the reward….
….of this lifetime together.
poem by Ian Beckett
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About You And Restraint....
it's the mystery in you
that makes me
somber, or perhaps dumber
i think more of you
and i ask so many questions
all my answers are wrong
i go into the details
letter by letter in my book
i utter the syllables hoping that in each sound
i can find
an exit to this useless mess
i stare at you
in those moments of my chaos
my thoughts are wild
i have lost control
and restraint buries itself
on the ground that it dug for days
i have not traveled so well
in the past
trying to explain why this hour is
sad
i dream
that i have another face
another body
i see yours
limpid on the floor
calling my name
i did not say a word
as i look for the best explanation
why we cannot be
one in the heat in bed.
there is a fire that consumes
me
i am praying for a storm
i am wishing for
rain
i am a ship without anchor
there is no shore
in view
i look at you
i am a meteor in the sky
shooting myself
in space
lost with so much distance.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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An Empty House
A house that's always empty
always feels its pain.
It's hollow and it's lifeless
and knows that it's insane
to shelter not a single soul
and hear no welcome sounds
because all of its rooms are vacant
and emptiness surrounds
its space.
A house that's always empty
wears a lonely face.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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I mean simply to say that I want my characters to suggest the background in themselves, even when it is not visible. I want them to be so powerfully realized that we cannot imagine them apart from their physical and social context even when we see them in empty space.
quote by Michelangelo Antonioni
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Nature Of Freedom
freedom is
movement, the flying of arms
the winged hands
fish fingers
we look at it from the severance point of view
the possibility of coming back
for another wholeness
is nil
it is the union with another one distinct from us
like a star to grass
like ships without anchor without any definite port to land
like meteors moving to an uncertain destination
freedom is not a wall
never a pillar
it is the wind always the wind no matter how you try to hold it
with your hands
its escape is its nature.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Fading ink
Fading ink
~
the words which flowed
from pen to page
in a steady stream
have trickled silently
into a vacant space
silent prose sits impatiently
awaiting the spark
to ignite inspiration
to fire up the pen
and resume its flow
of words from pen to paper
but a nothingness holds
space for rent across the page
a canvas of thought
where words once ran
the old ink fades
in the light of a new day
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Poetry in Me.........
Oh poetry my friend inside, dormant thoughts lie,
Anger writes the feelings in the speed of thought,
I swing the axe to split the block of inspiration
Mind Pictures in my words sleeping under dreams.
Happiness and sadness hold hands in the whirlpool of words
Metaphor movies flicker in my brain,
Venting feelings to flow from my pen,
Celestial images punctuated live as
Syllables jostle for rhythm’s flow.
Oh poetry my friend inside, dormant thoughts lie,
I find comfort deep within as we write together
With your silent guide my friend,
In the cutting room snakes strangle the ‘odd’ word
Oh poetry my friend inside, dormant thoughts lie,
I find comfort deep within as we write together
With your silent guide my friend,
In the cutting room snakes strangle the ‘odd’ word
Then wonders mark unfolds, originality leaps forth.
My eyes close feeling tired the hour is late
On this session I must close the gate,
Oh poetry my friend inside, dormant thoughts sleep,
A silent friend to keep.
poem by Ken e Hall
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Anchor
As a baby
I was fastened to mother’s belly
As I float in her amniotic fluids
Through an uncut umbilical cord,
I kept that
In my navel forever, perhaps,
As times pass by, as I begin living a life
Of my own, in work, in love,
In circles of my daily undertakings & means,
I anchor myself to some ideals
Like
Being clean, and honest, and
Having integrity, principles,
Sort of another set of umbilical cord,
Though in different conceptions,
A figurative sense of the word
Or something emblematic,
I keep
That in my mind, now, perhaps, who knows,
Forever,
The feeling of having to float is
Always there, wherever I am, be it in
A drinking spree with friends, making love with my wife,
Or asking a night with a woman that I just met
At the sleazy bar,
Or in the
Simple study of
Some ordinary events here and there,
A feeling of lightness for being so
Different from the rest of those who are
Here with me once,
These idiosyncrasies of self, always getting to know why me,
This quirk,
This oddball,
Why am I being different yet so ordinarily elbowing with all,
Why this sort of floating
Drifting,
Like a canoe on smooth silvery river,
Dusts floating in air,
A white crane gliding,
A waft of culinary flavors from a
A food plate,
A shadow of a plane hovering,
This drift,
This sail on some seas without land
Or anchor,
Like when I write poetry grasping ideas, floating, drifting ideas
Catching them with the nets of my recollections
Bobbing and dangling
Trying to find a buoy,
An anchor, of weight, to hold things together, to make links
Chains to hold on to.
Of what I am who I am
Who I was
And where I am going,
I hold on to faith
Hold on to faith, they will always tell me, the priest the nun
& the Voice of God
And just in case I still float, drift, and waft
To tense & terse feelings and lots of pretenses
I go outside,
Touch a tree, feel its rugged barks, smell its
Leaves, stick my hands to its sticky stains, and
I
Get stuck, I want it, I want being stuck.
I hold on, to the sturdy tree standing near me,
I hold on
Like a baby floating on amniotic fluids fastened to an umbilical cord
Or
Like a hot air balloon, anchored on some sandbags and ropes on the ground.
I am somehow fastened, anchored, I become real.
Now, touch me, talk to me, hold me tightly please.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Words (A True Poet)
We speak words of wisdom
when the heart is full of sadness
sometimes thoughts of happiness
when we bless the morning sun
other times just for fun
that's where a true poet comes from
We speak these words of poetry
in a timeless past
a masterpiece so vast
where motions and emotions
rush by so fast
We are all, but only one
on a empty highway lane
frost like snowflakes
on a window payne
we hold not the anger
from within
but express our lonliness
with paper and pen
Though our days are not forever
our words will always last
in this world of reality
like hours that never pass
in pastures of green grass
we're pieces of shattered glass
(spiritwind-1997)
poem by Spiritwind Wood
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Jonah
We sail into a calm sea
and are far away from land
when that heavy storm unleashes
with its fury,
but below in the hold I am sleeping
and when I wake
I hear men running up and down
and then one bows over me
with a bright oil lamp in his hands
and the ship jerks with every wave
that slaps against it and others breaking over it
and a hand is stretched out to me
and I am pulled to my feet.
On deck I see thunderbolts
falling everywhere around us and the wind
howls as if it’s mad
and the tiller man shouts pray man pray
and maybe your god will hear you
as we have already prayed and pleaded
and this ship will just now
break under us, into pieces
and the ship creaks, shudders
and tumbles up and down
when the captain asks for a dice
and the lot falls on me
and with the howling wind
and lightings resounding
and the sea that foams wildly
I am thrown into the water
and while I sink and think that now
I am going to drown, I pray and beg for help
and a big fish swallows me,
a really big thing
and then I think that now I am in real jeopardy,
then God takes his decision
and it chucks me out
at Nineveh
I see the light.
poem by Gert Strydom
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I shall hold you
I shall hold you back
I shall hold you back
As so much is at stake
Life is not simple cake
Whenever you like and take
Life is real
Come near and feel
It will make you fully secured
That is destiny and our future
You are made to feel
Love is divine and felt at will
"How and why" has no scope for doubt
It is all in love and we must talk about
The sky is vast and so is the world
You need to come and set in fold
You are safe with peace in wide arms
Without a single thought of any harm
Never think of running away
You will find no excuses for finding new way
You may try to run away but face high walls
You will look back to hear my sweet calls
"Keya*, Keya* to run away is cowardice
Retreat from commitment and honest promise
Where will you land in this unknown forest?
Will you be there for want of no interest?
I am here and permanently near
Come to me without any fear
I shall hold you till last or forever
Think not of running away ever
You have place to rest on my shoulder
They are well built and little wider
They can take care of your every comfort
Just anchor your ship at lovely port
Love is called love and almost pure
That makes a person very much sure
I, for one, can hardly afford
Your absence so I pray for you to Lord
*Keya is name
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Empty Hands
He rode in town on a white horse
With nothing in his hands
He came to gather his people
And take them to their promised land
When he came he knew there would be bloodshed
But still no violence made his plans
He came to fight in a battle
With no guns or money
But with his empty hands
With his empty hands
With his empty hands
With his empty hands
They said hey boy what you lookin'at
As they eyed his dreaded mane
He said my father has sent me
I've come back to reclaim
The children whose hearts
Were so whole and pure
Now it's you who'll die in pain
So they lynched the man
Who fooled the word
And all the children gathered
In his empty hands
In his empty hands
The children ..... empty hands
In his empty hands
With his empty hands
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
song performed by by Lenny Kravitz from Let Love Rule
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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