After A While...
when he was about to
leave me
for good, (that is what is usually
said)
he told me
Be not proud
for you too
shall have a share of those pains
just like the rest
and it is only when every
flesh of your body
gets numb
(i.e. it is too familiar
with pain that
it does not react anymore
to any
stimuli)
that you finally get
that reward
of what you have always sought
that
eternal peace
(i.e. it is not that the mind
becomes blank
like the closure of the windows
of the day
where you are led
into a dark room where you have
no choice but
sleep
forever,
no, no, no
it is not
it is never meant that way
it is this
you sleep
you are too tired
for almost everything
you do not remember
what happened
you wake up
light touches your face
plays with your
eyelids
you rise
again
a whisper leads you to
the door that opens
into a garden
it is such a beautiful garden
flowers that you have first seen
scents that you have never smelled before
there are sounds of
chirping birds
blue clouds
clear skies
a peaceful path
that takes you
to new friends
yes, my dear,
you are into another new beginning
you write again
those new letters upon a new language
that surprises you
with a higher
level of
understanding
yes, it is the wisdom
that faces you
upon a first
meeting.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
Blank, Numb, Floating
it is 1: 55 a.m.
i hear the rain falling
she is fast asleep tired of the demands of her day
i leave her and she takes the pillow for me
i turn on the light
and see this room of books and paperworks
i turn on the computer
i am feeling nothing and i am floating like i am but a spirit
i am numb and i am feeling so dumb
i see this blank wall
i am feeling so empty
i look at her again
she utters words in her sleep and i will not wake her up
i lay my hands on the keys
run my fingers on some letters
there is nothing to write
in particular but there is something to run my fingers on
this feeling
this attempt to imitate the sound of the rain in letters
to put the motion of the rain to put its smell
to be wet and to have the rain run over me
all over me all over me all over me all over me
blank, numb, floating and wet
this is the poem now
at 2: 03 a.m.
it has gained finally this form
and scent and motion and color
that you have never seen
or felt the way
i do.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Taking Time
i tried to ask myself what are days for
they always equate it with walking and the nights
always with sleep. Some have taken the courage
to redefine the colors.
black need not be dark, and white need
not be waking,
sleep would be pink at times
and twilight blue.
i do most of the thinking at night
when everyone hides in the darkness of their sleep.
there are colors and sounds and scents.
and i begin to love the variations,
the aberrations have become adventures
and no one in the house knows
no one understands what is happening to my
eyelids, my mouth does not speak
and my eyes,
having seen much, have desired days
to be the place for the dead,
the white mausoleums, the scents of the flowers
for the weary.
i sleep and dream at noontime and
nobody is there anymore to
mind. I am alone and i have began to love
this moment.
my day is dark. my night is light.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Secrets Of The Loving Person
the room where you sleep
does not take hold of you
your bed cannot be part of your skin
and your windows are nothing but
the ordinary closing and opening
of your day
you like a door that opens
to nowhere
you have diamonds in your hands
you spread them
in the garden and you see
how they all glitter for a while
darkness folds and
light of another day opens
you take a walk and whistle
you don't remember the color of the blanket
you forget what warmth was there on that bed
you do not care whether the windows are closed or open
you move to another house
and tell your stories all over again
there is no blink in your eyes
there is no stammering in your tongue
you do not tell them what you love
there are no hands too familiar to hold you back
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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No Attachments
the room where you sleep
does not take hold of you
your bed cannot be part of your skin
and your windows are nothing but
the ordinary closing and opening
of your day
you like a door that opens
to nowhere
you have diamonds in your hands
you spread them
in the garden and you see
how they all glitter for a while
darkness folds and
light of another day opens
you take a walk and whistle
you don't remember the color of the blanket
you forget what warmth was there on that bed
you do not care whether the windows are closed or open
you move to another house
and tell your stories all over again
there is no blink in your eyes
there is no stammering in your tongue
you do not tell them what you love
there are no hands too familiar to hold you back
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Interactive Poetry
when i wake up this morning
sleep is still sleeping
and i slip out of the blanket
not to disturb sleep which
is still soundly snoring
last night we did not pretend
that we were two dead people
sleep was tightly curled upon itself
its arms were not around me
and i could not remember anymore
exactly
whatever happened
to me
or us
if there ever be
this morning
sleep is dead
and i survive
to meet another face of death
in the kitchen
and also in the rest room
and also outside the house
into the road and in the office
where i am working
there are so many faces of death
in my own world
and i am not the loyal subject of sleep
which is death's younger sister
neither am i a friend of death
nor its foe
for out of this everyday encounter
death becomes nothing
but another furniture in the hall
another rock in the garden
part of the numerous leaves in the air
one of those many ' its'
that does not
really disturb me anymore
tonight i will sleep with sleep again
(it is dead and unburied)
i do not name sleep for you
since i too does not know about its true details
or identity
its name its age
when it was born
though i know exactly when it really died
as i have already told you
and what totally is it exactly
the whole truth about its snores and sleep walks and talks
its secrets inside those thick blankets
for in truth in this journey
we sleep with sleep
most of the time
(do i hear ninety percent approving?)
we do not know much of it anyway
or frankly
much less
perhaps
at any rate
(and this may have bored you
to an ending that
bears no significance to your present work)
how can we be interested with such an ordinary matter
that occurs
every minute of the hour?
and what is it that is really worth
writing and
understanding in this world
that does not listen?
(do i hear 95% of you screaming?)
poem by Sebastian Soberania
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A Poet Garden
the sun will rise from the East and set
in the West; where all the beautiful birds
whisper and sing there harmonic melody
of praise, whistle that call to a memory
of today and live forever
see the sun flower sprouted like Lilies in
the garden of sweet meadow of Daffodils,
and the butterfly and bees love to taste its
sweeten gift of fruit of every days
beginning
look at the wind blew its magnificent
humid air; harbor the crystallized pebble
in the shore of history forever more, as
it wait the coming morn of tide, that
paddle into the deep blue ocean of where
its want to stay
the sky showers its rainbow, and the
clouds form a color that the heart can see,
listen my dear blue heaven, the journey of
each fly wait and touches the sky; let us
dream to a place where the eyes can’t see
and a heart that only feels the immortality
of life of eternity
let be our dreams hold a pen, and show the
wisdom of ever learning eyes of the
poet beginning up to the end ……
poem by Antonio Liao
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A Prayer For Me
soon i will be one of the hollow people
and soon i will have nothing but air inside me
why can't i make a choice between substance
and emptiness?
i can. There is this light that leads me to
his Grace. There is this door that always opens.
There is this garden where all
the flowers always bloom
and never wilt.
I follow the light. I open the door.
I enter the garden.
As easy as that. I only need to call His Name.
And He is always there.
I do not have to suffer and
be confused. He is happiness. He is certainty.
I do not have the right to inflict
this unnecessary injury into my soul.
Amen.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Scenic Garden
As I walk with your hand in mine, I see the most beautiful paradise known to man,
My eyes water at the magnificence of this garden like land,
Everything looks as if it’s a dream beyond the farthest span,
Let’s take a walk through paradise as I hold your hand,
I can see that majestic fountain that sits in the center of the garden of glee,
I observe in awe as I see the water flow gently down the steeps,
And it seems as if this is all made up in a dream,
But the reality is that in this garden of glee is where the angels sleep,
I’ve never seen something so beautiful in my life,
It looks as if the heavens came down to enhance my dream like sight,
The flowers are so scenic of pink, yellow, red and white,
This wonderland is so beautiful the plants blossom in the night,
As I walk with your hand in mine the rain drizzles gently to the ground,
I listen closely and I hear the birds chirping in the most beautiful of sounds,
I’m surrounded by magic in this beautiful garden all around,
Then I turn to you and lay my lips on yours,
I close my eyes in the process and realize it’s even more beautiful than before,
What I’ve realized is that, this magic garden isn’t the most that I adore,
It’s your hand in mine that I’ll hold forever more.
poem by Kurt Kacich
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God's Garden
God looked around his garden
And found an empty place,
He then looked down upon the earth
And saw your tired face.
He put his arms around you
And lifted you to rest.
God’s garden must be beautiful
He always takes the best.
He knew that you were suffering
He knew you were in pain.
He knew that you would never
Get well on earth again.
He saw the road was getting rough
And the hills were hard to climb.
So he closed your weary eyelids
And whispered, ‘Peace bethine’.
It broke our hearts to lose you
But you didn’t go alone,
For part of us went with you
The day God called you home.
poem by Katie Evans
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God's Gardens
God looked around his garden
To find an empty place,
He looked down at the hospital
And saw your tired face
He closed your weary eyelids
And lifted you to rest
God's garden must be beautiful
He always takes the best.
God saw that you were suffering
He knew the pain you was in
He could feel the pain you were in
And he knew you would never
Get well on earth again
He knew the roads was getting rough
So he whispered good night Martin
And Closed them weary eyes
It broke our hearts to let you go
But you didn't go alone,
For part of us went with you
The day God called you home
poem by Lauren Louise
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It Is All In The Mind
think my dear, it is all in your mind
think beautiful
and you will be beautiful
think all the good things you have
and you will be good
think that you are this success and
you will surely be one, my dear
so why bother
about what this world has to say to you
it is you that matters
it is your mind your soul in you that shapes the contours
of your flesh and body
use your mind that way you use
all the wisdom in you
think about beauty, the truth, the good
focus your mind, change this cup, this saucer, this spoon
change this world of ash into flowers and butterflies
learn this art
this subjectivity, this feeling, this poetry
it is all in the mind
and matter is now bereft of power to hurt you
it is
the mind, the soul, the idea, so think some more
it is the real you, this rational you, think some more
with your beautiful mind, change this world of ash into
this garden of Eden
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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As I Lay Me Down
It felt like springtime on this February morning
In a courtyard birds were singing your praise
I'm still recalling things you said to make me feel alright
I carry them with me today now
As I lay me down to sleep as I pray
that you will hold me dear
Though I fall away I whisper your name into the sky
And I will wake up happy
I wonder why
I feel so high although I am not above thy sorrow
heavy-hearted 'till you call my name
And it felt like churchbells
or the whistle of a train on a summer evening
I want power to meet you barefoot
Barely breathing
As I lay me down to sleep as I pray
that you will hold me dear
Though I fall away I whisper your name into the sky
And I will wake up happy
No doubt that
As I lay me down to sleep as I pray
that you will hold me dear
Though I fall away I whisper your name into the sky
And I will wake up happy
Its not too near for me
Like a flower I need the rain
No its not clear to me
Every season has its change
and I will see you when the sun comes out again
As I lay me down to sleep as I pray
that you will hold me dear
Though I fall away I whisper your name into the sky
And I will wake up happy... uhuh yea
As I lay me down to sleep as I pray
that you will hold me dear
Though I fall away I whisper your name into the sky
And I will wake up happy
I wonder why
The sun comes out again
song performed by by Sophie B. Hawkins from Whaler
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tabula Rasa
this is a blank wall
or as you wish it, this could be a blank page,
or you may consider this
a blank mind of a child and
you will be teaching him
some things for the first time,
go, scroll, and find something,
do you remember now, why the child is still in pain?
why the walls are stronger? why the blank page still have stains
of blood in there?
some sad memories that refuse to leave?
don't lose hope, there are still more blank spaces of the mind
imagine it to be some kind of a sky
now, put the stars and the moon, and try wishing
someth ing nice and beautiful
like a boat filled with flowers and some light and then silently it sails
on a very peaceful sea like a fine silky cloth covering the dining table
to the place that you always dream to live
forever.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I Want You To Go, Please Go
please go now
it is dark and you need sleep
you are tired, you are disturbed, and i do not want to be the reason
for your disturbed feelings
leave me alone
i always have to suffer alone
it is my season of pain, it my turn to be miserable
i will be alone in this and you cannot be of help
no one can
it is me finally caught in my own world of loneliness
the world that i write about so many times described in all
my poems
please go now, i do not want to see a beautiful person like you crying
let there be no tears
and sobs
a gentleman like me still has dignity
let me have the honor, the opportunity to go in peace
to the world that i can no longer write and talk about
because it will be indescribable
because there i am no longer myself
but another being
perhaps with wings and with feelings which are so light
like floating and drifting clouds.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Let The Night Sleep
Let the night sleep
Sleep for ever deep
With the night I sleep
Beyond the world to peep
Universe will sleep
Plants and trees
Birds and bees
Stars and moon
To sleep very soon!
Fruits and flowers
Joy with showers
Will sleep with me and the night
Not to keep the life very tight!
No dawn of the day
Right upto the dooms day!
Sleep permanent
In the world impermanent
I'll sleep without light
My agonies will sleep
My worries will sleep
My pains will sleep
My sins will sleep!
While in sleep
I am pure
I am peace
I am noble!
While my body is asleep
Awake my soul I keep
Sleep akin to death
Death akin to sleep in mirth?
Let the night sleep
Sleep for ever deep
With night I sleep
Sleep to eternity
Soul to merge in Divinity!
poem by Subbaraman N V
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Sleep On Her Lap!
Laying in the garden putting my head on her lap
Feeling her love in this charming nap
Below the tree, garden full of flowers
Dreaming in her love droping like rain showers
Touching my hair with her beautiful hand
Giving peace to my sleep in her fantasy land
Waking in the need of her desperate love
Smiling with the sparkling eyes, my above
Kiss on my lips, Hands on my cheeks
Her beauty and love is all what I seeks
Letting me sleep, stoping me to say
Wishing her heart, Forever this love stay
Caring for my sleep in her bed of roses,
The more I sleep, The more she gets closes!
poem by Legendary Gamer
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Little Eleanor's Sleep
Sleep little Eleanor and sleep forever
Forget the troubles that lie behind you
Close your eyes and let them wonder
Sleep forever and fall into the blue
This world was filled with twists and turns
And you could not handle all its burns
I'd see you staring at the stars
And somewhere along you'd mind your scars
Was the world with too much pain?
Was every action made in vain?
Were the nights not beautiful though without the care?
Were the stars not beautiful or why'd you stare?
I know your days were filled with struggle
Every hour filled with battles
Every wound brought too much pain
Every action was in vain
Every breath was a fight on its own
Every step was taken alone
So I can understand why you are so tired
I can understand why you want to sleep
But little Eleanor you are a fighter
When I look at you it's all I see
So forgive me when I say
That Lord forbid that you never wake
He wants you to live through every battle
He's wants you to stand from every tackle
He watches you through all your sorrow
And I know he planned you a better tomorrow
So little Eleanor wake from your sleep
Do not mind the demons that creep
The lord is watching with a beautiful plan
Just trust in him and all will be well
poem by Hafeni Nghidinua
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Elusive Sleep
Sleep evades me in the night
I listen to sounds make thoughts
which play upon my mind
in the dark of the room I lay
waiting for serenity to come
time passes slowly
as though held imperfect
its warm, too warm for comfort
and too cold beyond the bed sheet
the day has been long, the body aches
still, still sleep evades me
and those sounds, each shadow
play upon the mind more and more
restless and anxious for sleep
to rest, to dream, to be at peace
the elusive sleep in the night
where thoughts consume me
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Lullaby
SLEEP, sleep, my treasure,
The long day's pleasure
Has tired the birds, to their nests they creep;
The garden still is
Alight with lilies,
But all the daisies are fast asleep.
Sleep, sleep, my darling,
Dawn wakes the starling,
The sparrow stirs when he sees day break;
But all the meadow
Is wrapped in shadow,
And you must sleep till the daisies wake!
poem by Edith Nesbit
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A Secret Garden
outside the house
there will be a number of faces to meet
and you shall be ready
with you cliches
to face them
it will not last
for soon you get inside
that secret garden
when the pressure gets strong
when the tempers rise
to a higher scale
in the secret garden
you lock the door
inside is the big tree
where you sit under
and then ponder
there is peace here
nothing bitter
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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