After The Rain
it is an observation that after the rain
the stones on the pavement glisten
to the envy of the dews
but the leaves where the dews sit and dry
themselves to death
when they finally vanish into the rays of the sun
understand
what all these temporaries are
at the peaks of glory time is always too short
passing like no one
like nothing is
there
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
Transposition
on the dry pavement
summer stones
and pebbles
and grass with dews
early morning light
pearls and diamonds and
yellow mantle crawling
spreading
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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On The Earth
Divine song's purred as the day falls
The love and blessings reach to all
The first light rays fall from heaven
To the earth and to lighten up all even…
The morning dews glisten all falling
All around with its beauty and rendering
Divine message and love to all living beings,
And the leaves dance as one with wind and sing…
The waterfall roars and makes music
And all the hovering birds make lyric
Singing and dancing in the sky with mirth
For the 'God' given us all on the earth…
Written by: Narendra Rai
Talhar Badin, Sindh, PK...
poem by Narendra Rai
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I Am Human......
i am eating Italian flat bread
inside it four rectangular slices of cheese
it is a Sunday and the university is at its
best in the quiet
the skies are blue and the grasses are green
still wearing the dews that glisten against the early sunlight
i sit on a stone bench under the narra tree
on the 8th day of July where leaves are plenty
i love life because of you.
i love this Sunday morning this quiet this solitude still because of you.
i am lost because of you, and without you still i must find myself
because of you.
how i envy the one that owns you, but i must accept this fate
because of you.
you are not what i am
you are not what i can touch
you are not what i can never have
you are not what i can never find
if you read this by chance
you must learn to forgive me.
i am human.i am sin.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Tide and chapel brought me here
Tide and chapel brought me here
On a midnight clear
Here where the dews lay thickly mounted
Here where seasoned hearts be counted
Not for their pain did they suffer
Their lost souls unto one another
Not for their envy did they discover
The glory that lasts forever.
poem by Mark Heathcote
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My Own Emptiness
morning
is an empty slate.
i go outside
this room into an open garden
rays of sun arrive
upon leaves soundlessly
mushrooms grow on the sides
of the old narra tree
i imagine i see some
elves
big biga leaves capture
water and on its edges are dews
i am empty like an empty slate of
morning
sunlight cannot
neither dew
nor nymphs of myth
fill it up.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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By My Window....
dawn
darkness finally receding
morning
light spreads
the leaves of trees
begin to appear
the mountains
show up in magnificence
little black birds
hover on the tree fronting my window
dews giving up
mist gone.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sonnet 04
A garden so well watered before morn
Is hotly up, that not the swart sun's blaze
Down beating with unmitigated rays,
Nor arid winds from scorching places borne,
Shall quite prevail to make it bare and shorn
Of its green beauty -- shall not quite prevail
That all its morning freshness shall exhale,
Till evening and the evening dews return --
A blessing such as this our hearts might reap,
The freshness of the garden they might share,
Through the long day a heavenly freshness keep,
If, knowing how the day and day's glare
Must beat upon them, we would largely steep
And water them betimes with dews of prayer.
poem by Richard Chenevix Trench
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A Broken Heart's Request
on that bright morning
when the birds peck upon the grains
of rice spilled
upon the rugged pavement
as the leaves of the bushes
are drying themselves
from the wetness
of dews
she left without leaving a note
what a contrast of life
what could have been a very beautiful world
what a sad life
how a heart can that be broken
how this world continues its spins and revolutions
how can a woman be so indifferent
to a man who should not have given up
when i meet you again
please be kinder
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Time Is A Revealer
that early morning when the dews
are pearls on the leaves
you appear
as a lovely brown woman with tight skin
too naive even for a white rose
more innocent than twilight
i was speechless like the grass
i was sprawled and all of me looked up
the coming of the skies
the sun comes up like a chariot of fire
that is how they name what god was there
i am amazed with what is going on
someone is riding on a horse and charging
someone is taken away but not crying
someone says, well, this is nothing but a circus
there is no abduction since the beloved was too willing
to be taken as a hostage of ecstasy
then there is the time for surrender
the white rose wilted and all its petals lay crushed on the grass
i was the grass sprawled on the sun
the skies all shut
the chariot pass that way and the horses fade like a mirage
then you lay there alone
your skin too loose, in fact, hanging on your bones
your teeth are no longer white as pearls
no dews on your lips
you are alone now and you wish for death
meanwhile, there is only darkness there is so much silence
my heart so empty my mouth utters a word
how can i ever forget your name
you too fade like time like a betrayal
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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After You Unfold As A Flower In Complete Bloom
i see you unfolding as a flower to me
i become your sun to shine upon you
as you bloom completely
i watch the beauty before me
i am warm too as you are so beautiful
to the caresses of my rays
i hold you then kissing everything
your petals your leaves your receptacles
after you unfold as a flower in complete bloom
i will make you
some dews
gleaming
then i leave in this sunset of my life
you too must fall
petal by petal
then the leaves too must die
such is the temporary nature of our meeting
so beautiful yes
so brief indeed
and no dew of time must ever be wasted
till we meet again
i will always be the sun and you shall always be the
flower unfolding
to such a marvelous complete blooming
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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We Are Fast....
the fast mind does not wait for your
arrival
you are as gentle, and slow as a snowflake
we are the wind, and the unfrozen river,
we move and transfer and go elsewhere
we have no purpose
we have no specific place for that destination
we are not part of you
we are those that you see and then gone
in a short moment
we do not belong here neither there
we do not understand
who we are
sometimes we think we are cursed
perhaps punished so wisely
we do not stay we are not held
we are dews, we are mists, we are merely sounds
always faint.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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My Death
My death waits like an old roue
So confident, Ill go his way
Whistle to him
And the passing time...
My death waits like a Bible truth
At the funeral of my youth
We drank for that -
The passing time..
My death waits like
A witch at night
As surely as our love is right
Lets not think of that or the passing time
But whatever lies behind the door
There is nothing much to do...
Angel or devil, I dont care
For in front of that door...
There is you.
My death waits like a beggar blind
Who sees the world through an unlit mind
Throw him a dime
For the passing time...
My death waits to allow my friends
A few good times
Before it ends
Lets not think about
And the passing time..
My death waits there, between your thighs,
Your cool fingers will close my eyes,
Lets not think about the passing time.
For whatever lies behind the door
There is nothing much to do...
Angel or devil, I dont care
For in front of that door...
There is you.
My death waits there among the leaves
In magicians mysterious sleeves,
Rabbits and dogs, and the passing time...
My death waits there, among the flowers
Where the blackest shadows cowers
So lets pick lilacs
The passing time..
My death waits there, in a double bed
Sails of oblivion and my head
Lets not think about
The passing time.
But whatever lies behind the door
There is nothing much to do...
Angel or devil, I dont care
For, in front of that door...
There is you.
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Little Garden
Sun yet to born,
crows yet to wake,
I ran to my little garden.
Dews everywhere
dark made a blanket on my plants.
I am looking for my rose flower
Mummy said today it will blossom.
I touched all my little plants
and they returned the shakehand
with cold honey dews.
The first rays of sun is coming
its breaking the dark into pieces
and my little swing birds started singing.
Where is my flower?
I checked everywhere.
Oh I found my plant and I cant believe
The beautiful yellow rose
I touched it, kissed it and plucked it
Mummy, Daddy.I screamed with joy
I run to them and showed, see my rose flower..
I stretched my hand to my mummy
then I noticed a red dot in the flower,
It was a dropp of blood
may be I touched the thorne
may be the plants eyedrops
may be the the flowers pain
may be the the pain of taking away from its mother
I feel sorry
Parting is sorrowfull
poem by Slb Pillai
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A Beautiful Day (2)
no rain
dews have dried up
no ripples from the pond
air still
leaves are glossing
to the sun
sky is clear
fogs gone
the window opens
to the garden
of daffodils
the sea is silky blue
no foams
seagulls fly to the north
boats sail to
deep oceans
the ants gather
morsels
and the grasshoppers
and crickets
join in the singing
welcome a brighter new day
for the darkness is gone
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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M4
this is a bright day for us
the sun is mild, the air is 26 degrees,
the grass carry the morning dews
the flowers are fully dressed with their
bright colored petals to please the hours
inside the house the leather furniture
glosses over an event
the walls are painted white the beams
and trusses all yellow green
the garage is finally porcelain tiled
expensive tastes dominate here
time is short, the weather gives in
for something that won't last
and then the dirge marches in
a Sunday dress, beloved mourners
the prayers are sung, the candles lighted
another important shit is gone
in this far away town.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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After The Rain The Pebbles Too Glisten
after the rain
dews still cling on the leaves
glistening,
the pebbles too, but lifeless
still, my heart feels
sympathy, for those in the cold
immobile, wanting to change
but cannot, vision filled,
all unrealized, anticipations
smothered wishes, choked
ambitions, breathless, dead
nerves, numbed existence,
unfeeling, used now
to the brim, unspoken, desires
fettered.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sturdy
above you
you hold the centerpiece
of my existence
you rub love
you throb intimacy
to my pleasure
this is the feast of
our bodies
no shame
your hands caress my
sanctity
no one understands
where love attaches itself
at the branch
of lust
leaves of desire
roots of memories
dews of glances
falling rain on the rocks
suffuse air
earth satisfied
asleep at dawn
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Change the pair to get flair.
The rays of sun fall on the blades of leaves.
The leaves are excited, and undergo
Chemical changes with warmth of the sun.
Yesterday, and before, it happened.
Those rays were different, though of the Sun.
The rays of each day feel they are the first
And woo the leaves to the guile of the leaves.
As though the leaves are virgin
The law of diminishing utility
Does not operate in love making
When the pair is altered and instead,
Ensures optimum eroticism.
26.05.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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A Dialogue
I
DEATH, if thou wilt, fain would I plead with thee:
Canst thou not spare, of all our hopes have built,
One shelter where our spirits fain would be,
Death, if thou wit?
No dome with suns and dews impearled and gilt,
Imperial: but some roof of wildwood tree,
Too mean for sceptre's heft or swordblade's hilt.
Some low sweet roof where love might live, set free
From change and fear and dreams of grief or guilt;
Canst thou not leave life even thus much to see,
Death, if thou wilt?
II
Man, what art thou to speak and plead with me?
What knowest thou of my workings, where and how
What things I fashion? Nay, behold and see,
Man, what art thou?
Thy fruits of life, and blossoms of thy bough,
What are they but my seedlings? Earth and sea
Bear nought but when I breathe on it must bow.
Bow thou too down before me: though thou be
Great, all the pride shall fade from off thy brow,
When Time and strong Oblivion ask of thee,
Man, what art thou ?
III
Death, if thou be or be not, as was said,
Immortal; if thou make us nought, or we
Survive: thy power is made but of our dread,
Death, if thou be.
Thy might is made out of our fear of thee:
Who fears thee not, hath plucked from off thine head
The crown of cloud that darkens earth and sea.
Earth, sea, and sky, as rain or vapour shed,
Shall vanish; all the shows of them shall flee:
Then shall we know full surely, quick or dead,
Death, if thou be.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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A Dialog
I.
Death, if thou wilt, fain would I plead with thee:
Canst thou not spare, of all our hopes have built,
One shelter where our spirits fain would be,
Death, if thou wilt?
No dome with suns and dews impearled and gilt,
Imperial: but some roof of wildwood tree,
Too mean for sceptre's heft or swordblade's hilt.
Some low sweet roof where love might live, set free
From change and fear and dreams of grief or guilt;
Canst thou not leave life even thus much to see,
Death, if thou wilt?
II.
Man, what art thou to speak and plead with me?
What knowest thou of my workings, where and how
What things I fashion? Nay, behold and see,
Man, what art thou?
Thy fruits of life, and blossoms of thy bough,
What are they but my seedlings? Earth and sea
Bear nought but when I breathe on it must bow.
Bow thou too down before me: though thou be
Great, all the pride shall fade from off thy brow,
When Time and strong Oblivion ask of thee,
Man, what art thou?
III.
Death, if thou be or be not, as was said,
Immortal; if thou make us nought, or we
Survive: thy power is made but of our dread,
Death, if thou be.
Thy might is made out of our fear of thee:
Who fears thee not, hath plucked from off thine head
The crown of cloud that darkens earth and sea.
Earth, sea, and sky, as rain or vapour shed,
Shall vanish; all the shows of them shall flee:
Then shall we know full surely, quick or dead,
Death, if thou be.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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