After The Bombing Incident
AFTER the bombing incident last night
at the church of San Pedro
tiny shreds of flesh hang on the walls
and ceiling of the confinement.
the cries are not prolonged except the
sounds of ambulance
and the military jeeps
to and fro the city gates
sleep was denied, and then that early morning
i opened the window
i saw this little blue bird perched on the guava tree
it was singing a very sad song beside a bunch
of ripe guava fruits.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
After The Bombing Of The Small Village
after the bombing of the small village
by the insurgents
some flesh still hang on the
branches of mahogany trees
some eyeballs of women left to stare
to the skies
some toes are scattered on the grass
shrapnel reigns like the
pebbles on the shore
that morning she looks over the window
she finds ripe guava fruits
on the branches surrounded
with green leaves
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Untitled 24
outside the window
this early morning
blue clouds hover
on the green hill
like the curly hair
of a little boy
on the guava tree
a twig without leaves
a bird sings
with blue feathers
the kingfisher
below it a pool
of rippled waters
a fish is seducing
its black beak
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Ripe Guavas
on top of a hill
beside a cliff
the branches of
the guava tree
are filled with
ripe fruits
a bird with
small wings
flew and
perched on
one of the
branches
it is pecking
on the biggest
and the ripest
which at any
moment may fall
right on the
sharp rocks
just below
the cliff
where the hands
of death keep on
waving
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
God cares for all Creatures
The guava sapling planted has grown big;
The tree is laden with ripe fruits many;
How many can I pluck or eat each day?
Lie fruits unseen at heights, I cannot reach.
I see the parrots enjoy tasty fruits;
I see the squirrels gnaw the fine ripe ones;
I see bats with voracious appetites;
And many more fall down by force of winds.
God fills the tree with fruits for each season;
Man cannot eat all fruits the tree can bear;
God feeds each bird of the air with care;
He made them all and that’s the chief reason.
When God can feed His other creatures well,
So many human beings starve to death;
Oh, what a man-made tragedy, we see,
As tons of food goes rotten every day!
God loves all human beings even more
Than all His other creatures whom He made;
Both food and drink turn scarce by acts of men;
Why blame God for our misdemeanor, then?
Copyright by Dr John Celes 4-3-2008
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Licking The Palm For Guava
It was a cold, dark night
No hope in sight
I left my little hut
And went to the palm
To get some guava
Licking the palm for guava
Licking the palm for guava
Yes, when youre old and youre not very young
Lick the palm for guava
Lick the palm
When youre old and youre not very young
Lick the palm for guava
song performed by by Ween
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
In the White
In the white, early morning
I hang my face
over her head
and kiss the flesh above her brow.
I hang my neck, a bow in the air
and kiss the tiny, tickling hairs above her brow.
In the white light of morning
I hang myself over her
and kiss the flesh of her skull
Her white skull
sleeps in the early morning as I hang myself
to kiss her.
I hang myself to kiss her
as she sleeps in the white, early morning.
She does not wake to my touch.
I hang myself above her
on the white bow
of early morning.
She does not wake to my hanging.
The window is cracked and taped.
The outside air is cold, forceful.
I bend myself
above her sleeping body
to kiss her, gently on the brow.
To kiss her gently on the brow
I hang myself.
poem by Chavisa Woods
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sonnet: Nature Resurrects
The ‘curry-leaf’ tree bears berries again!
The black fruits look enticing, succulent;
And more will ripen with the August-rain,
A feast to the spotted-grey bird, God-sent.
The guava-trees are full of flow’rs and fruits!
They ripen fast each morn to squirrel’s squeak;
The landscape will have ripe fruits like a ‘Blitz, ’
Which many birds will then happily beak.
The rain can do such magic to the lands;
It resurrects the almost dead, dry trees;
Some fairies good are working with their wands!
The fauna seems as busy as the bees.
Thus, Nature sprinkles compassion on all!
Her heart melts to each creature’s plaintive call.
8-9-2002
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Healthy fruit - Guava!
While I entered into my kitchen,
The aroma of a nice fruit pierced my nose!
It gave an euphoria to my sense,
O' It is a smell of Guava!
Yellow in color,
Ripened in nature,
It invited me to eat
and taste;
I took the fruit in my hand,
I took the knife too kept aside,
I cut the fruit gently with care,
into pieces of four;
I tasted the fruit, Guava,
It was yummy yummy,
Very tasty and yummy,
Healthy fruit - Guava!
poem by V.K. Kanniappan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Harmony
when the guava tree
showed leaves
we waited for time
for it to give flowers
and then it came
we waited till it
bore fruits and then
the fruits ripened
we waited till all the
ripe ones fell to the
ground
then our hands picked
them all up
and we ate the juicy
sweet pulp and then
we spit out the seeds
to the ground
we swallowed what
fills our thirst and hunger
and the world
smiled
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The little things that make my teeth clean
Of course, the champion is the toothpick
Always the wooden, bamboo toothpick
Or could be the fine dental floss
But I always need a mirror to use that
And eventually I find it more expensive
And time consuming
And then I can have a little twig
Of guava,
I like the odor and I have the
Last chew and
Oh my
I can chew the same and swallow
But without the toothpick or the floss
And when I am in a bus and there is
No guava tree
I simply have my tongue and the
Nail helping it to get rid
Of
You know what.
Life is like that.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Outbreak of Peace
I awakened this morning...
So early I was shakened!
Did I hear someone say...
'There's been an outbreak of peace!
A recipe of peace is in all ovens baking? ! '
Did I hear this correctly?
So I went to the window to see!
And sure enough...
I saw Morning Doves!
Morning Doves at the base of a tree!
I opened the window,
And they chirped and moved on!
Leaving me with a 'song'...
To carry with me all day long!
Something perhaps I reflect,
And can be detected by others...
Who will take and pass it on!
I know something felt different...
Within me.
Yet in my heart it kept singing
Stronger until it longed
To belong.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Home Sweet Home
sunday on a home sweet home
from the city
to this little nipa hut
on top of a hill
that father built
where the guava trees are filled
with ripe fruits
where i climb and gather and taste
the sweetness of its pink flesh
where the carabaos rest
in the coolness of mudholes
where i take my ride on them
in the river nearby
on crystal clear waters
where some fish swim on shallow waters
inviting me to fish and catch them
for lunch of pearl white glutenous rice
and with banana leaves as plates
and some wild chicken's barbecued breast
and with my bare hands and
some childhood friends
we shall take this simple feast
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The mooning.
How much pain, how much strain,
How much time, how much space,
To plough and grow our courtship,
Knowing it would yield raw fruits.
A guava half ripe tastes as good.
The unripe love is more worth
As to the unborn love.
22.12.2000, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Phenomenology Of The Sparrow
you have seen a sparrow
on a twig
pulling with its beak
a ripe guava
you have seen how it flies away
after a very short fill
do you feel the freedom of its wings?
do you hear the wind beneath its feathers?
do you wish to capture it on a trap
using a latex sap?
do you wish to catch it with your hands
and feel its softness with your fingers?
when you put it in a cage
is it beautiful
to see it sad and
be not able to fly and to sing
on a beautiful morning?
or is it more beautiful flying with the wind
singing freely its own songs of freedom
rather than be silent
and sad in your very own hands?
have you ever felt
once in your life
that you are a sparrow
too tiny
too soft
too innocent
for another
creature's
cruelty and cunning?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sonnet: And The Devils Came!
The Red-Ants took over the guava-tree!
They built their leafy nests by body-glue;
Some soldier-ants patrolled the surface free;
They fed on fruits, unripe, ripe; old and new.
Then Satan came to take them all to hell!
A group of crows invaded every nest;
The foes were too much; every soldier fell;
They could not succeed despite attempts best.
When you had harmed another unfairly;
The Lord allows your death-knell to be met;
The end comes on so fast and suddenly;
There is no escape from His mighty net!
So, never harm another here-after;
And if you do, cease may your own laughter!
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
little boy shakes
a huge branch
for a little ripe guava
haiku by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Look, perched on a
Look, perched on a
flowering tree
The blue bird is
singing and
in the song everything
reserved for me.
It is for the song
always I am
escaping from
the brink of death.
It is for the song
I am able to work
till eternity.
Come and answer
the questions
of the moral king.
In your garden
O kong of the cosmos
I am a flower
and your honour is
with me blessing shower.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Jumbo
( brother theres a little sale )
( on, er..., on a vest )
( at ha, walmart )
( 9$ )
( yeah )
( 8 something )
( nice little vest, light )
Click [x4]
I need sugar
I need a little water of sugar
I get thoughts about you
And the night wants me like a little lost child
Locked in the safe place
Looking out the window
The dark move fast pass the window
The dark on the other side of the locked door
Click [x3]
My thumbs on a tetris keyring
Moving in brillant timing
You pick up the phone
And Im imagining it out
Click [x4]
Tiny wires in her ears
Sliding through the city
Tiny wires in her ears
Sliding through the city
Click [x8]
( expected early in the morning )
( expected early in the morning )
Rising in the morning to speak to you
Beneath the feet of the city
Click
You disconnect from me
Click
When you come to take your century
Telephone breath between us
The will of the world is between us
Only theses wires
Dust between the wires and green glass
In the distance
I am your tourist
( take you there in the morning )
( take you there in the morning )
( Im not pulling in returning )
( Im not pulling in returning )
( Im not pulling in returning )
( yep Ive searched for this part hang around the same stones )
( hang right there with them )
( well Ive never fished here )
( but Ive caught beaucoup fish in reverend burton )
( I never did catch fish )
( beaucoup fish in reverend burton )
( did check a tender slab )
( did you hear of that? crazy dog... )
Click click click
Sugar sugar
I want sugar
I want sugar
Sugar
I want sugar
I will I want sugar
I want sugar
I want sugar
I want sugar
I want sugar
I want sugar
Sugar
I want sugar
Sugar sugar...
( take you there in the morning )
( take you there in the morning )
song performed by by Underworld
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
How I Love The Quiet
How I love the quiet
The early morning streets
With few people and fewer cars
The sounds of the wind and the birds
Which do not need to be heard-
The sound of my own voice singing alone its morning song-
How I love the quiet
Of the early morning
And how in my old age
I just enjoy walking along
And singing a song to myself
Into the surrounding silence.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
inside Facebook
i am a song there
ready to be sung
you can sing me
if you want
i am my own lyrics
the notes are
taken from the
mouth of the bird
that sings only
at night
i am a song there
hanging upon a tree
like a very ripe fruit
you can pick me
and taste me
and then tell me
if i am selfish
for i am not
i am an offering
and you must not refuse
i am a song there
sing me and then
i will listen
and then i will know
who i am
where i am going
what i will become
it is your hum
your singing me
that can make me alive
your mouth can make
me a new bird
singing another song
for this world
tonight
look, the stars are listening
the moon is ready
for this dance of love
tonight
i am a song there
sing me now
give me life
touch me so tenderly
like a woman.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!