Another For Poetry's Sake...
(i am sleepy but my hands
are still crazy about poetry...
it is a living river fed by
a heavy rain from those big
virgin mountains
the roots of trees are no longer
cups and basins
and so the flood begins
the rivers
tributaries twenty in all
run
towards the big mouth
of the bay
where they unload their murkiness
swallowed
by the royalty of
deep blue.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
On Writing...
because there is no one
you can trust now,
feeling so alone, and have no one to speak to
with honesty,
you have decided to befriend yourself
welcoming to the house of your body
your soul, your best friend now,
sharing bed with you, looking at the stars at night
with you,
and since the world is so silent
and sad
there is no choice but to talk to yourself
to the trees
the grass
and then your hands
become one big river with ten tributaries
all move towards your heart
your mouth
and from which
since then
writing begins...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Calbiga Caves
the caves of calbiga
hide the roots of trees
those that seem
to be growing strong
from above them
the summit of green leaves
and cool summer breeze
from the samar sea
the same roots
that you talk about
somewhere in vietnam
age and ages
they never tell us
the truth about themselves
we see them now
still strongly attached
living and breathing
but as usual mute
about the horrors of war
the killing of tribes
the annihilation of brothers
who came here before us?
what have they done
that you fear talking?
i know there used
to be blood running
along the rivers and
the tributaries
i know there are still
other stories to be told
but the water is now colder
and the night is near
we pack up again
and then go........
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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When The Heavy Clouds Of Black Come
when those dark heavy clouds
finally come on my roof
i will not think anymore
of any lamentation
i will not think of the threats
that a heavy flood may
come and take away my house
and everything
i will change my point of view
this angle of sight
i will take sides with the way the
trees and the flowers look
at its coming
i will think about the growth of leaves
the spreading of the roots
the blooming of the buds
the fruiting of the flowers
and the ripening
and the lusciousness and
the sweetness of life
beyond the dark, heavy clouds
beyond the rain and the flood
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Lovely Nature
roots making love
to nearby roots
tight and intertwined
trees budding
leaves lush
trunks like steel
like man
in his twenties
clouds are flirting
treetops are reaching
for little ecstasies
like rain finally
bursting
to mountains parched
hungry for water
heavy rain
flooding the rivers
like multiple orgasm
of a woman
lightning and thunder
like beds creaking
and short circuits
of emotions
then follows the calm of
the night
on contented sleeping
cicadas
the night is pregnant
with stories
twilight breaks in tears
for the rumor mongering
and talkative
days.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Path Of Brown Stain...
the heavy rain from the sky
pours upon the heads of the mountains
the rain takes upon its feet the rivers on a journey to the mouth of the sea
it escapes and creates a brown island that spreads on the belly of the sea
it is not beautiful to see
how stains are made
the sea is sinful and it will always be
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Retrieved Poetry
Poetry is dead,
Some would say.
But the inspiration that befell the poet,
But the gods that cursed the poet
Would never allow him grow weary.
It keeps pouring out like morning dew
From sundown to cock crow.
Poetry is dead,
Some would say.
Those would get paid
That wishes it out of this world.
Judgement day, the pay day, even today
,
Memories linger of what the gods inspired.
Only poetry has survived a worldwide flood.
Poetry is dead,
Some have said.
But the inspiration keeps coming,
But the memory keeps living.
Poetry lives on even when the world is dead;
It dies only if it is not poetry
And there is only a good few poetry.
Poetry is dead,
Some have said.
Until we start seeing poetry as poetry
And nothing more, until that day,
Until we start thinking he is inspired,
Until we stop thinking for the poet;
He is possessed he is innocent.
Poetry is dead,
So goes the argument.
Even as we cut from the same tree,
Even as we speak same universal language,
You cannot cut deep if your axe's blunt.
We can never speak from same mouth.
You can only say your own thought.
Poetry is dead,
So goes the argument,
If poetry is dead killed by death,
If poetry is dead swallowed by death,
The corpse should be in our front.
We should know how to bury it.
We should dig not cover it with dust.
Poetry is dead,
If poetry is really dead,
There is cause to weep bitterly,
There is cause to think deeply
For the world has been stripped naked.
For poetry is great, ageless, timeless, bottomless
At the burial we must remain emotionless.
poem by Chime Justice Ndubuisi
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As If Never!
your mouth tembles,
cannot form the word love;
your body storms,
breaking windows and doors.
your hands sweat,
your eyes close, and open.
the embers deep,
sputter, and flame...
beyond your control,
your winds laps it's tongue,
just for a taste,
for one stolen moment.
the earth stops turning,
poles begin to shift...
and mountains, cities, and
rivers swallowed in an instant...
as if never!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Weird Of Hermistin (demo Version)
by Jack Bruce and Pete Brown
I'm goin' to a wedding
I'm going to a wedding dressed in black
I'm going to a party
Going to party, won't be back
Cause I'm not going with you
No
Trees are no longer a comfort
Messages sad in the wires
My hair is hung down
With the blackest of rain that I'm feeling
I'm going to the river
I'm going to the river wash my tears
I'm going to the mountains
Going to the mountains cool myfears
That I'm not going with you
No
Skies are no longer a comfort
Leaves turning black in the autumn
The corn is hung down
With the heaviest rain I am feeling
I'm going to a fun'ral
I'm going to a fun'ral dressed in white
I'm going to a nightclub
I'm going to a nightclub sleep with night
And I'm not going with you
No
Love is no longer a comfort
Fantastic times are forgotten
My heart is hung down
With the saddest of rain that I'm feeling
song performed by by Cream
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Journey Back To Ourselves
as i stare at the
rain
i remember
trees
transparent and
cold
trees without
leaves
i imagine
twigs
or roots or
trunks
they are never
there
no matter how
trees are tears
without leaves
without roots
with so much
salt in each
and then you
touch the waves
of the imaginary
sea and then
your journey back
to you begins
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Notes Of Sendong
so most of them are confessions,
like rain confessing to the grass in the sound of
a heavy rainfall
and in so doing, because it did not know how to stop
has caused the mountains to vomit
and the rivers to rise because they too are crying
and letting go the tears of creeks and ponds
and sobbing like ten waterfalls and raging like the sounds of
rocks and mud letting go of their hidden sorrows
and so why are there so many dead floating in the river and covered
by logs and mud?
the rains have confessed about the death of trees
and corruption of the winds
and then the names of men come out
they are the causes of all these sufferings
the innocent residents of the river banks are
the ultimate victims
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Let the Spring Winds Blow
Who divided the rivers and mountains
Forty-five years ago, hearts were torn, blood flowed
Standing and waiting, turning to stone looking at my homeland
The cries of anguish are no longer heard No fertile land for the trees to grow, no water to float the ships
No flight in the sky, where did it go
Known long ago, Korea was the rising sun of the East
Everywhere, tall trees, clear waters, blue skies To roam everywhere, to greet everyone
But that was yesterday
Spring comes to other countries, where everyone can travel
But winter snow blocks the path to my homeland Following year to year, people and seasons come and go
I am waiting, why are the spring winds not blowing
Winter is long and cold but spring must come
The seeds are waiting to bloom Spring has arrived, let us join hands
Let us plant trees on the mountains
Let us sail our ships on the rivers
Let us fly far into the sky
poem by Michael I. Byun
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It Rained So Hard In The Mountains
it rained so hard in the mountains
and the water ran
together toward the blue sea
a conquest
between brown and blue
i am looking.
the sea is parted.
brown is about fourteen meters.
and blue is driven away.
the trees are bald.
a coconut falls.
we wait. we see how
brownish things murk
the bluish shade of this world.
i am this Filipino.
I am brown. I am what
is this murkiness all about.
we parted.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Death Of The Trees
My town is a place where
The rich tourists come,
With mountains and rivers
That glint in the sun!
Luxuriant beaches
Of ivory sand,
But all the jade forests
Now no longer stand!
There once were lush jungles
That grew dense and tall,
But woodcutters came when
The town was still small...
They hacked all the trees down
And shipped them away,
In huge merchant vessels
That sailed to the bay!
They went back to Europe
With precious hard woods,
Sold it as furniture
And other fine goods...
I wish I could travel
In time to the day
Before people cleared all
The forests away!
I wish I had seen them
Before settlers came,
The mountains and rivers
May still be the same...
Iron, Yellow, Black Wood
And most of all trees,
Don't sway any more in
The fresh coastal breeze...
This poetry is an adapted poem for
Lisa La Grange, her copyright,2012.
poem by Denis Martindale
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Response
The myopic tongues
of tall trees, going downhill
to find the roots of four-letter words of dead,
unspoken, but sung in dark.
They had come out of the skin.
River was flowing on emotional track,
with heavy eyelids. Father said,
he would never die.
Your unborn children were tasting
the salt of the road still untaken. The pain
in the neck was grizzlier,
when the sun was retreating in virgin hole.
Moreover, the wrinkles will tell the tale
of truant hands who would not
play with the silken adolescence
of a delirious moon.
poem by Satish Verma
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Come, Come Stay With Us, This Is Our Paradise
on the other side is the coastal beauty
of sky blue clear seas and coconut palms
at the opposite of the other side one takes
the road leading to the green mountains
the forest trees are nest of birds and
the branches are playthings for monkeys
below the mountains are villages
sleepy and peaceful and cooler with
fresh air and flowery gardens
a vast expanse of rice and corn fields
rivers still teeming with fish
the people still opting for peace
this is our paradise. Come, stay with us.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Blue Baboon Water Farm
Walking by the rivers edge
Reach my hands to cup the sky
Run down my arms a bitter blue
Turn to red and the gashes grew
The river taste me
Im so much more than I have ever been
Oh, oh, oh, oh
Take this my arms
Take this my eyes
Take this my mouth
And God it seems to be
Completely true
Oh, oh, oh, oh... yeah
Walking by the rivers edge
Reach my hands to cup the sky
While on my arms a bitter blue
Turn to red and the grew
The river taste me
Im so much more than Ive ever been
Oh, oh, oh
song performed by by Dave Matthews Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You know why I love the rain? Because no one knos I'm crying.
You know why I love the rain? Because no one knows you’re crying
By: Jean Pullman
I look at you with the pain buried in my soul
You say you see it but I say you don’t
I feel the razor blade swiping across my skin is the only answer
I know you don’t understand
CHORUS
It’s raining so now’s the time my tears come
I go in a corner in my room and slice my leg
Watching the river of blood
You might think I’m crazy
I’m just depressed
And I love it when the rain comes
I wish I could just tell someone how I feel
But my mouth is held shut by an invisible hand
I locked my heart and threw away the key
I will no longer let it break the heal and break again
Why can’t you love me for me
Why must you expect me to be something I’m not
I wish that love didn’t kill me little by little
Because I’m almost dead
CHORUS
It’s raining so now’s the time my tears come
I go in a corner in my room and slice my leg
Watching the river of blood
You might think I’m crazy
I’m just depressed
And I love it when the rain comes
This time I’m going deep
I’ll hit the vain so I will no longer feel pain
My heart won’t be broken I’ll be set free
So the rain comes and washes away the blood
No one will know when I died
Crying it was you I thought of.
poem by Jean Pullman
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Mountain View
after the night of love
i sit on the bamboo stair
facing the wide expanse of
mountains before me
beyond the horizon of fog
and smoke from the tiny
houses five hills away
and down the plains the
winding river taking the
usual routes of least resistance
i have seen wild carabaos grazing
white horses running with the
winds and the black birds
flying high seeking their prey
of chicks unprotected by hens.
i am amazed by this macrocosm.
How can some be so greedy amidst
these bounty? Can his hands hold
all the mountains? Can his mouth
drink all the rivers? Can he catch
all the black birds and put them
inside his cage? I know he can't but
i know he will. And that is the reason
why we are here hiding in the bellies
of these big mountains, siding with the
shades of the trees, taking inspiration
from all the stars, the moon and the
boundless sea.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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All Wet - The Song
On down the river of circumstance
Drowning in a sea of despair
I try to shelter my heart
Knowing that you are no longer there
Under an unwelcome wave of disagreements
Swallowed up by tides of disdain
I try to control my teardrops
As they fall like the pouring rain
Knowing that you're gone from my presence
Knowing that you're no longer near to my shore
Is breaking my heart and soul into pieces
Knowing that you don't love me any more
Can't seem to reconcile your absence
Can seem to deal with this pain
Under a cloud of overwhelming heartache
Consumed by unending torrents of rain
Oh where oh where is my Rainbow?
Oh where oh where can it be?
Soaked am i from sea to the sky
Wishing that you were here with me
No need to look for the sunshine
No need to look for blue sky
No need to get my hopes up
Just too many reasons to cry
Flooded by unending bodies of water
Rivers to seas of despair
Tears that fall as raindrops
They are simply everywhere...
An original song written by me
Dedicated to all who know the loss of love
Ocober 20,2011
poem by Theodora Onken
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Night Vision Over A Living Planet
The air is very heavy,
Hard and sharp,
Because of the interplanetary forces.
A rolling stones rain is falling down,
While a huge planet is completely covering the sun,
Making everything around be swallowed
By a great darkness.
Only sharp bright lights pierce the sky
From time to time
To trigger big fires.
''The stone which the builders disallowed,
The same is made the head of the corner, ''
A terrible freezing wind
Is following the darkness,
That kind of freezing wind
Killing or biting everything is alive.
Time stops running,
And nothing can move on that living planet,
Because of the interplanetary forces.
People, who live at the sea shores
May hear coming the waters of darkness
To sweep everything around.
There is no electric current at all,
And the stars cannot be seen,
Because they are hidden behind thick clouds.
Erupting volcanoes that have not erupted
Since a very long time
Are covered by fire.
A strange swing can be felt
By everyone,
When everything begins to move again.
The gravity is felt differently on the both sides
Of that living planet.
Huge waves of water meet volcanic lava
To make everything around disappear completely.
There are lost zones and escape zones.
The position of the living planet's axis changes
Reversing the sense of rotation.
The sunset becomes the sunrise,
And vice versa.
The monster planet leaves its position between
The sun and the living planet
To let the comet pass.
A heavy rain with very big drops
Begins to fall down.
After that, the sun powerfully rises again.
So many people and animals die,
That there is no one to bury them all.
The survivors take refuge in the mountains
Running in the woods.
The passing of this celestial body
Triggers an extraordinary earthquake.
Some mountains crack and fall.
The trees are falling to the ground.
The people are running, but they don't know
Where to run
Attempting to escape the wrath of God.
They don't know where they are.
They even don't know if they are at one
Of the Poles,
Or at the Equator.
They don't know if their planet's land is the same or not.
They cannot take any train, or plain, or car.
Their houses are destroyed.
They have nothing to eat, they need water.
They are hungry and thirsty.
They are exhausted,
But, moreover, they need to survive.
poem by Marieta Maglas
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