At Night With The Rain
i have closed the doors
and the windows
and let go the curtains
touching the floors
i close my eyes and listen
to the rain
i dream of stars
i miss the moon
the walls close on in me
beyond the glass windows
to the sea
i hear the sad calls of the
night
outside the trees are blown
the black cat stares at me
and then some tears
begin to fall
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Outside And Inside
this early morning
the rains are raging
outside is a rampage of
blown leaves and trees
you are afraid may
finally be uprooted
in the room
the brown dog sleeps
beside a wooden wall
on the floor
the glass doors
& windows are closed
the silence reigns
inside you begin
on another journey
you began last night
on some short breaths
until you think
you had a nice sleep
inside there is something
that rages
it is not the wind or the rain
it is something else
that you want to know
more & more
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Inveteracies...
a heap of dry leaves
under the trees
trees like fingers
stretching to reach
the moon
on the marshes
of the big river
the full moon sits
silently
a dog barks
this morning
at the wrong person
someone calls my
name but i do not dare
look back
promises are
feet without floors
faith is always
a blind item
and people accept
them always to
be true
and all giving
and
reliable
blank walls
speak too much
doors close
at the wrong hours of the
day
windows imitating
the natural
beauty of some
sexless eunuchs
facing the monitor
i am the nuclear
sun
threatening the room
that the explosion
is near
the dusts run in panic
the winds
stir the pebbles into
rebellion
etcetera is when
you do not know what is next
from your
self-proclaimed
knowledgeability
30.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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When I Close my Eyes
When I close my eyes,
I can see my country,
Shining in the light, bright.
When I close my eyes.
When I close my eyes,
I see the trees,
Green against the skyline.
When I close my eyes.
When I close my eyes,
I see stars shining cross,
The wide beyond.
When I close my eyes.
When I close my eyes,
I see the sunset behind your hair,
Halo shining in the air.
When I close my eyes.
When I close my eyes,
I hear the ocean waves,
Crashing on the shore.
When I close my eyes.
When I close my eyes,
I see the moon glistening,
Through your eyes.
When I close my eyes.
© 2012
poem by Nick Strong
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Do You Close Your Eyes
do you close your eyes when you kiss me
do you close your eyes if you miss me
and do you wonder why
i sent for you tonight
do you wonder why
golden bells are ringing in the year
through all the tears you cried for me
i always knew you could
so hide inside your looking-glass surprise
the lies become the truth you hide
the lies become the lusty night
do you close your eyes when you kiss me
do you close your eyes if you miss me
and do you wonder why
i sent for you tonight
do you wonder why
do you dream your dreams when you're with me
and do you see the things that i see
and is it true enough
is it true of love
secrets cloud your ears and fill your nights
with compromise and shadows torn
you make your way to him
the moon becomes your silent confidant
the one you want will stand alone
the one you love is never known
do you close your eyes when you kiss me
do you close your eyes if you miss me
and do you wonder why
i sent for you tonight
do you wonder why
song performed by by Smashing Pumpkins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Freedom Tears Down Walls
when we desire
to take a really
close look at society
we should never
waste time precious
walking to windows
we should look clear
straight through walls
through closed doors
stereotype minefields
begin in individual minds
freedom begs visions
walls guarded power secrets
do not preserve inspire peace
they fear greed justify wars
poem by Terence George Craddock
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What looks in (windows and rain)
Rain upon windows…
Dark bedroom walls
Shimmering pastel mists
down shadowed halls
Windows of ebon black…
and cold Crystal light
Transparently solid through
Both dark and night
Seemingly liquid… in rivulets
Of slithers of rains
Silver sheet of mercury
Over fevered panes
Half seen reflections
enshroud the palpable dark
And imagined…(or real) things
Seem to quiver, dance and spark
Leaves strike... then flee
Tossed by cold fingers of wind
Tree branches rap upon the glass
as if wanting to come in
Pull covers o’er your head
Scrinch closed your eyes e’er so tight
Tis only windows they are…
So no real reason for fright
But… for what looks back in…
Through your windows tonight
poem by David Whalen
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A Certain Preference On Early Mornings...
sometimes forgive me
but i do not like to hear bird chirping by my window
on early mornings for honestly i prefer
the silent sounds of the wind
from the sea,
and so when i hear those chirping birds
perching on the tree
those still feeding their fledgelings
i exercise that right of having to close my
glass windows
preferring once again
the privacy of my room and the exclusion of the
outside world
by the curtains and then i begin to sip my coffee
reading a poem
listening to the words seeping like rain to the
hair of my own soul.....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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It Is Late
it is late and the sun is setting
the orange and red are diminishing
the blackness spreads like a diffusion
of our sorrow and pain
soon there will be the closing of the windows
of the house
the locking of doors of the ground floors
and some prayers mumbled from lips
to lighted candles on altars of saints
and angels
soon there will be stories
from mother
and songs too
and then in the quiet
of the stars and the moon and the sky
soon there will
be sleep
under white mosquito nets
the light from the lamp
is blown away
and we smell the smoke
coming from the
loved ones
long dead
we end the games that we play
and we are silent
we yawn and close our eyes
and now ready
as we enter the doors of
our dreams
in there
there may be chases and running too
i am sure somehow we just take a look
unspeakably
things are hazy and we do not remember
anymore
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Heart Unsnaps
You gave me a name without asking.
History of my pain
did not need any label.
I recalled only
the blooms of bougainvillea,
not the heat which gave them color.
My burned lips
remembered only the dew
and rear view of life.
The total otherness of the moon and stars
did not heal the scars.
My perceptions had
given me hot tears.
How the distance between us
created the schizophrenia?
The familiar laughs
have frozen after all!
In the middle of night I lie awake
to count the door
and the closed windows.
I listen to the moaning of walls.
My eyes remained half-closed in freckled sleep.
Heart blinks, unsnaps
and weaves a moon.
poem by Satish Verma
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To Let You Know
it is raining tonight
there is light inside my room
i sit and watch the darkness outside
there is no moon
there are no stars
there are shadows of trees borrowing light from street lamps
they keep on moving
there are winds coming from the sea
they are blowing a while ago
they just subsided
and then i close the glass windows
i sit and watch and listen like i still want to learn
despite my 48 years here
i still do not know what in essence
is loneliness
how to cope with its grip how to set my self free
the chairs and tables are dusty
outside there is this contrast of coldness and darkness
i read some poems and i begin to write my own
nothing new not that old either
the same feelings the same flow of thoughts like a chain of steel
a rope, a big rope, a long rope
i bind myself again and i look at my side
just near me
there is this brown dog
native and too loyal like your own dog
or any dog for that matter
it is sleeping peacefully as though the world is safe
there is this rain
it does not seem to stop
to let you know, there are also tears.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The inner me
My aspirations hurt me
I escape from the mistakes I commit
They anger me
The hardships I have
Rise above me
These confusions of desire
Against the walls of my mind
Breaking some well locked doors
Tearing the closed windows apart
The colors that I want to see
Blind me for a while
I float in the air
Over the wide sea
I look for wings
To fly and sustain me
I rest a while
Close my eyes
And listen to this sound
Singing and chanting
Inside me
I am dying to live
And be myself
Sublime and strong.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Inside My Study Room
five o'clock, the usual time
but i already woke up at 3: 45
too early really
but i could not go back to
sleep
the words arrive
riding on the boat
such wind
hovering
disembarking in my
brain
i am surrounded by
glass walls
and light brown
drapes
books scattering
like garbage
on the floors and
tables
i smell the odor of
dust and
water inside a vase
unchanged
the red rose
had long wilted
no one comes around
to fix things
and keep all of these
in their proper places
the windows are still
closed and it
is still dark outside
though the crows
have already
sounded their
sad calls
the cocks keep sounding
it is already morning
and the windows
must not be opened
i write some lines
as usual and then
i'll wear my socks
and put on my
rubber shoes
and then i will take
my walk to the
woods
it will be cold
and i can see my breath
like smoke from a pipe
but i need this
my body craves
my feet want to move
the walls are too much
and the curtains feel
like they have to be washed
i open the door
and then i meet a new
world again
i know at first it will
still be cold
that is usual
i know after this
the sun comes again
as usual
and things will warm themselves
again
on promises
like what hope is all about.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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On The Night That You Are Not On My Side
last night
the bed feels like a glass
without water
the blankets are like eyes
seeing a blank ceiling
the lampshade has a tongue
of light untalking
the floors are indifferent
the door is hinting
about what hate can do
to the windows that close
like fists
the heart grips for a hold
on its veins
tears want to see the
waterfalls
the mouth bites itself
the teeth gnashes
to a steady gum
simply because you are
not with my side.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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What Words Can I Say?
i make life
i want to make life for both of us
the one filled with cheers like the sparkling
champagne on a thin, fragile, transparent glass
so we too can have
very careful fingers to hold it
or it breaks
shatters on the stone floors
and you weep picking up the pieces
your tears cannot ever glue them
whole again
i want to make life and love with you
on words
no no no, not on words alone
on actions and concrete hands that touch your face and make it
warm
i put the sun
and let the water run on the rivers
i want to make love with you
let us leave life for a while
let us close our mouths with words and letters and lines
tonight, i will put the moon and the stars
i like the windows closed
it is too cold
and my bed is small for both of us
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I Dont Want To Miss A Thing
I could stay awake just to hear you breathing
Watch you smile while you are sleeping
While youre far away dreaming
I could spend my life in this sweet surrender
I could stay lost in this moment forever
Every moment spent with you is a moment I treasure
Dont want to close my eyes
I dont want to fall asleep
Cause Id miss you baby
And I dont want to miss a thing
Cause even when I dream of you
The sweetest dream will never do
Id still miss you baby
And I dont want to miss a thing
Lying close to you feeling your heart beating
And Im wondering what youre dreaming
Wondering if its me youre seeing
Then I kiss your eyes
And thank God were together
I just want to stay with you in this moment forever
Forever and ever
Dont want to close my eyes
I dont want to fall asleep
Cause Id miss you baby
And I dont want to miss a thing
Cause even when I dream of you
The sweetest dream will never do
Id still miss you baby
And I dont want to miss a thing
I dont want to miss one smile
I dont want to miss one kiss
I just want to be with you
Right here with you, just like this
I just want to hold you close
Feel your heart so close to mine
And just stay here in this moment
For all the rest of time
Dont want to close my eyes
I dont want to fall asleep
Cause Id miss you baby
And I dont want to miss a thing
Cause even when I dream of you
The sweetest dream will never do
Id still miss you baby
And I dont want to miss a thing
Dont want to close my eyes
I dont want to fall asleep
I dont want to miss a thing
song performed by by Aerosmith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Openness In Prayer
the walls of the
house are thick
and high
the windows are
closed
and so are the
doors
the roof is taken
away
for you to see
the sky the stars
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Now Close The Windows
Now close the windows and hush all the fields:
If the trees must, let them silently toss;
No bird is singing now, and if there is,
Be it my loss.
It will be long ere the marshes resume,
I will be long ere the earliest bird:
So close the windows and not hear the wind,
But see all wind-stirred.
poem by Robert Frost
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For A Friend Who Is Also Struggling Out There
it is still 3 o'clock in the afternoon. iT is raining heavily
outside as we still keep busy with our own business
inside this courtroom.
two lawyers arguing on a point. I am listening.
the accused sits there, his life is at stake.
the mother is tense. two mothers.
THE mother of the complainant
who cries that her daughter is a victim
of rape.The mother of the accused who rebuts
that his son is just framed-up by the real
culprits who are still-at-large.
the glass windows of the court
muted the sound of the heavy rain.
but the way the trees are swaying to and fro
like a pendulum of a grandfather's clock
very well tells that there is a bad weather
outside this courtroom.
a river of faces faces me. i look at the eyes
of the room, the windows cased in glass
as the rain is maimed wanting to get in
as though trying to say that it has also
something to say about the matters
discussed inside this closed room.
the world is always asking, what is the truth?
it reminds us, there is only one truth and the
rest are lies. I keep on trying to learn from it.
the argument has always been:
everyone is a victim, and no one wins this game
of a legal play. sometimes the guilty is set free
and the innocent is put to prison.
there will be cries of the wind. In a closed court
like this, one cannot really hear the sound of its cries.
I am trying to figure out. Each word. The words of the
wind and the muted sounds of the rain.
THE hammer shall fall and it shall fall heavily.
Can this poem help me? Are emotions aids?
Many mouths shall shape the words. Each lip makes
a reading of itself. There will be whispers and murmurs.
There will be calls and cries and hounding sounds.
I sleep at night soundly. My conscience shall be my pillow.
There will be dreams handed to me by the gods.
As i write this, think also of my own journey, my own sorrows.
In the battles outside and inside us, a closed room vis-a-vis
the outside cries of the wind and the rain, i want to simply tell you, , ,
keep moving on. We move on too, with our own busy lives.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Kind of Falling
There is this kind of falling
that is free, and it does
not think of any floor
or end, the trip continues
down and down
and darker and darker
you close your hands
and put them on
the side of your
hips, and you keep
on waiting about the
expected
deadly impact, you want
it done
and done so quickly
for years this free falling
has been with you
and you are into this
feeling always
where to
and when and what
and why
it's been like this from
the beginning
no floors no ceiling
no walls now
and all the doors
are closed
except the windows of course
that you keep on seeing
there is the wind
that keeps on going and going
passing through and through
inside your heart
the freedom of falling
it is here always inside your heart
you are numb
and there is nothing difficult to understand
letting go and just this feeling of falling
the consolation is that
you are always on top of things
explains, thus, this falling
for why should i fall? i ask sometimes.
thanks God, i must be up here, and there is no end to this tunnel
let me see, let me see the light, with you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Drown Out The Rain
the quiet beauty of
rain swept streets...
the deep sadness
in the lost stares
of people walking them,
no direction, nowhere to turn...
and the agony of the apathetic,
standing behind windows,
curtains closed,
who turn up the music
to drown out the rain,
and so, feel nothing at all!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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