Adage #2
he shames you with the dusk
passing along a line of trees
and stopping at the seam of
the golden light of the moon
you cannot think of any meta
phor you simply want to be
direct and simple when you
say you do not like any com
plication you hate this con
volution of words and phra
ses and talking without st
opping because you cann
ot find the period and the
the comma slips away like
a sigh from the holes of y
our nose and the hairs are
not syllabicating anything
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
Ramblings And More Ramblings
i like talking to myself, and so i just keep on talking
about anything else
no one hears it of course except myself
and like this sentence construction there is no period
not even a comma for this is a kind of talk that does not want to end
only when you are around and you talk endlessly too when i begin to listen.
and attentively i give everything to you
you fill me with words and words and the conversations keep going
i like to think that i am making a poem for you silently in my mind.
but it is not
i am more of going inward lost in my thoughts unable to find where is the way
out of this journey
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Dictaphone Bard
[And here is a suggestion: Did you ever try dictating your stories or articles to the dictaphone for the first draft? I would be glad to have you come down and make the experiment.--From a shorthand reporter's circular letter.]
(As "The Ballad of the Tempest" would have to issue from the dictaphone to the stenographer)
We were crowded in the cabin comma
Not a soul would dare to sleep dash comma
It was midnight on the waters comma
And a storm was on the deep period
Apostrophe Tis a fearful thing in capital Winter
To be shattered by the blast comma
And to hear the rattling trumpet
Thunder colon quote capital Cut away the mast exclamation point close quote
So we shuddered there in silence comma dash
For the stoutest held his breath comma
While the hungry sea was roaring comma
And the breakers talked with capital Death period
As thus we sat in darkness comma
Each one busy with his prayers comma
Quote We are lost exclamation point close quote the captain shouted comma
As he staggered down the stairs period
But his little daughter whispered comma
As she took his icy hand colon
Quote Isn't capital God upon the ocean comma
Just the same as on the land interrogation point close quote
Then we kissed the little maiden comma
And we spake in better cheer comma
And we anchored safe in harbor
When the morn was shining clear period
poem by Franklin P. Adams
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A.s.2
i have not put
the dot yet in my
life's
composition
words are not
final and so
i simply put
the comma and
the hyphen
sometimes the
dash and
then the slash
perhaps when
i die
i give you the
honor
to put
the period
add nothing then
i have enough
of me
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I Believe
i believe that in the novel
written about us
it shall not end on the last
sentence with a period
i ask the Great Writer
to at least end it with a comma
the silence of the comma
the suspense of the comma
and the exclamation point
of the Hallelujah!
I do not prefer the eternal rest
i pray for that Bliss.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Dusk and Dying
Dusk purple trees reach out high,
Gently brushing the Cotton Candy sky,
The nostalgic horizon passes by
And time races toward the time to die.
And I cannot help but wonder “But Why”?
Time is simply passing by, passing by,
Passing by….
But does it pause for me? Not I.
For me time simply passes by,
Like these leaves that patch this somber sky,
Time simply passes by
Like these leaves that have dried,
Skipping over the concrete, so spry.
“Simply live and let live! ” I try,
But life and living keep passing me by.
So, as my verse so aptly implies,
Whether I live, or whether I die,
I simply bid you fond goodbyes,
Like the sun as it sinks ‘low the cotton candy skies…
poem by Rachel L. Moore
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The Stars Are
The stars are
Although I do not sing
About them—
The sky and the trees
Are indifferent
To whom they please
The rose is unmoved
By my nose
And the garland in your hair
Although your eyes be lakes, dies
Why sigh for a star
Better bay at the moon
Better bay at the moon . . .
Oh moon, moon, moon
poem by Samuel Menashe
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Oh, Brother
Im not much for making little wishes
But Id like a little wish to come true for you
Im not talking about loaves and fishes
But I wish that there was something I could do for you
Heres a little bit of cheap advice
To be taken in an hour of need
Dont assume that the life you left
Is the life you have to lead
(chorus)
When you come home what you gonna do
Oh brother, oh brother
Dont you try to deny
What you know to be true
The same mess of misery that you done been through
Standing in line
And its waiting for you
One kiss leads to another
Brother when you come back home
Id like to know whos knocking on door
Id like to know what they come here for
Youd like to say no
But the words wont come
Come in and sit down, seem to roll off your tongue
You forget to remember, to never die young
One kiss leads to another
Brother when you come back home
Standing in line, all of your friends
Standing in line, party never ends
Standing in line, the river flows, the river bends
Standing in line, all of your friends
- chorus -
And that moon will be
Shining in the trees
All night long
Something bound to happen for sure
Soon youll be
Stopping by talking to a friend again
Swear you aint never tasted nothing so pure
- chorus -
When you come home, your friends are dropping by
When you come home, the moon is gonna shine
When you come home, I tell you no lie
When you come home, theyre gonna offer you a line
Standing in line, all of your friends
Standing in line, party never ends now
Standing in line, the river flows, the river bends
Standing in line, all your so called friends
Standing in line, when you come home
Standing in line, oh brother, oh brother now
Standing in line, when you come home
Standing in line, what youre gonna do now
Standing in line...
song performed by by James Taylor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Is It True?
for after all
is it true that a good poem
does not teach?
or preach?
or even tell something
so important
is it true that it simply
makes you feel?
logic is for
mathematics and
any exhortation on
how we live
and why
must be archived
in the ethics department.
this one must make sense
in the color and in the scent
and in the sweetness
or bitterness of its
words
it is more of a comma
than a period,
and some dots,
lots of dots.......
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The lost lagoon
It is dusk on the Lost Lagoon,
And we two dreaming the dusk away,
Beneath the drift of a twilight grey,
Beneath the drowse of an ending day,
And the curve of a golden moon.
It is dark in the Lost Lagoon,
And gone are the depths of haunting blue,
The grouping gulls, and the old canoe,
The singing firs, and the dusk and--you,
And gone is the golden moon.
O! lure of the Lost Lagoon,--
I dream to-night that my paddle blurs
The purple shade where the seaweed stirs,
I hear the call of the singing firs
In the hush of the golden moon.
poem by Emily Pauline Johnson
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Moon All The Way
Through the darkness of night,
behind the branches of deodar,
he peeped thru, O Moon, the only
source of gentle light!
One side there was deep ditch,
another was hill tufted with trees,
in between these two me and the moon's
tender light! He tiptoed all the
way, the moon of Mussoorie.....
The green dark leaves in silhouette,
swayed to say, good bye to me.
They disappeared after a long period,
But, the moon followed me all the way! !
!
poem by Nilakshi Das
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There Will Be No Words So Accurate Perhaps...
my wish is to simply tell you
what i was, am
and can possibly be,
i do not wish that you extend your hand to me and take me to your place
i am here
and that is the only fact that i am
i can manage myself
just like everyone else
i do not know about helping hands
i have mine somehow
my wish is simple enough
to find the words to give you the picture
of what we are
who we were, where can we be
and what shall we be,
the words have not been well enough
they are shorter and inaccurate for
the size of our dreams
i still wish to find the words
and i am getting older
and older
sooner shall i realize perhaps that
there are no such words,
that what we are
are but dreams and aspirations
and that there are
and there will be no words
exact for all these
when we die, they will bury us, and then they will give us
the perfect sigh
and if you take a closer look, they speak through the
flowers and the stones
their tears and their hands
and then
finally on the marks of their footsteps
away from us....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A world of HATE
A world of HATE is what this is.
When you say you HATE someone
That's not what you really mean
You're talking about something else
And you don't really HATE them
HATE is one of the biggest mysteries
In the life that we live
Why do you HATE
Who,
Do you really?
HATE leads to another world,
More horrible than self knows of
HATE leads to unwanted power
That scars someones soul or physically worse
Murder, crime and suicide
Hurtful words and back stabbers and war
All start form one little word
HATE
So when you say you HATE someone,
But you can't describe how you really feel
Reconsider and don't live
In a world of HATE
poem by Golden Heart
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Hate
Hate
Is a powerful state
One so hard to negate
Hate
Mean
It's a terrible scene
Often cruel and obscene
Mean
They say there is a thin line between love and hate
But why does hate have to be so cruel
It drags the one you love into an abyss like hell
All they do every day is hate you
Sigh
Often wanna cry
They will hate till they die
Sigh
poem by Talile Ali
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Speak easy
Ever had so much to say but cannot find the words, when you do you just do not have the nerve.
Waste time, time wasted over what might be said, conversations played out only in your head.
Silence is golden so they say, time keeps ticking its running away.
Never runs back just out of control, do soul searching to find the know.
The words you find seam just too few, say nothing at all keep it in you.
If spoken aloud could set you free, there inside, somewhere in me.
Maybe a magician could bring it to light, maybe a strong man to fight this fight.
Speak easy when spoken, say it so clear, I fear, these words, never hear.
The less you speak the more that is herd, screaming out loud not saying a word.
Speak easy to you, few words need say, speak easy to me, time slipping away.
poem by Gary Kedron
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It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to heaven, we were all doing direct the other way - in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.
Charles Dickens in A Tale of Two Cities
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The gift of words
Some words I swallowed
Like pots of rain
Their beauty quenched the thirst
Some words I swallowed
Like fire and pain
Their bitterness left me cursed
Some words I wrote
In anger and haste
And spat them on the palm
Some words I sought
To heal be chaste
To find the peace be calm
Some words I followed
Like footprints lost
In dying piles of leaves
Some words I followed
Like benevolent host
Once he really receives
Both the gift of words
Right from the lips
That used to sing the poles
And the gift of words
When the mind slips
Into the broken holes
©Miroslava Odalović
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Beautiful City
Beautiful city
Beautiful city, the centre and crater of European confusion,
O you with your passionate shriek for the rights of an equal
humanity,
How often your Re-volution has proven but E-volution
Roll’d again back on itself in the tides of a civic insanity!
poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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Outside Of That I Love You
What makes you think I'm crazy about you?
What makes you think I can't do without you?
I've looked you over carefully
And if I never see you again, it's soon enough for me
I hate the ground you walk upon
I hate the phone you talk upon
I hate 'most ev'rything that you do
I hate that funny little mouth you drink with
That peanut on your shoulders that you think with
I hate the rouge upon your lips
The polish on your finger tips
I hate your eyes of heavenly blue
I hate the way you sigh, honest I do
Outside of that, I love you
[Female version:]
I hate the way you comb your hair
I hate the flashy clothes you wear
I hate the patent shine on your shoe
I hate the closet that you keep your clothes in
I hate the handkerchief you blow your nose in
I hate the smell of your cigar
The way you lean against a bar
I hate the jokes you tell that are blue
I hate that fancy tie, honest I do
Outside of that, I love you
song performed by by Irving Berlin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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96
if i heave a sigh, what will i do with what i did not heave?
if i heave a sigh
into the air, and i keep some other more inside myself,
unconsumed, unspent,
what will i do with it?
keep it
like a secret in my closed fingers and pretend i am angry
with this clenched fist
when in truth i have nothing
no plan of keeping things that long because my arms
my soon go
into the river and be lost floating like a log from a hill?
i heave a sigh, that is enough relief,
i am emptied of something heavy
in my nose
i become an island losing air
but keeping sand and
stones
to keep my balance with the coconut trees
still
making landmarks to lost directions,
but it is my way of making my senses alive
i heave a sigh
and i want you to really hear it at a very close distance
just you and me
for you to know where i have situated myself
in this vast
nothingness,
i am here, touch me,
i am warm, i am fire,
you have been taking the forms of water
cold, damp,
having the face of the night, where the moon lost its light,
what are you doing to me?
i am taking you but you are the one taking me nowhere
i am lost by your promises
of a raft
i lost track of your waft, and here i am lost again as i
heave a sigh, deeper
this time....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Descry
I stood in a grand wood alone
whispering to God upon his throne:
' Is it truly true
nothing is more powerful
than magnificent You? '
Then, I stood by the great ocean
and whispered to God:
'Can You hear me above the roar?
How will You find me,
my footprints have washed away all along the shore? '
Finally, I stood upon the highest mountain top
and whispered to God:
'Can you see me now,
the mere speck that I am,
even just a glimpse, somehow? '
No reply came.
Not in words
I could hear.
No powerful voice
loud and clear.
I waited
'til the end
of day.
Then quietly, alone,
I simply walked away.
On my way home
travelling into the dusk,
a desert I did pass through
with a quiet and lonely
darkened view.
Nothing moved,
not a sound.
Except, for the slightest breeze
whisper wonders my way,
through the tops of a few scraggly trees.
I stoped
I looked
I stood.
Amazed at this wind
passing by through the twisted and bent woods.
It was at that moment
in the darkness,
at the edge of desolation, among the lowly trees,
that I became fully aware,
God is everywhere, even right here next to me.
poem by Smoky Hoss
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