Because There Is Really No One There At 11: 30 In The Evening
when sleep does not visit you
till 11: 30 in the evening
you take your time waiting for it
as you dabble in poetry
here is a friend that understands you
and listens to what you are talking
in that cautious silence of his metaphors
the evening becomes a romance of one soul
and one body all contented in the grace
and beauty of the gift of thoughts
and words
he toasts that imagined glass of wisdom
filled with that wine of air
and then the laughter that spreads
that no one hears
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Of Your Knowledge On Poetry
Of your knowledge on poetry you wish me to know
Your three favourites poets Eliot, Whitman and Poe
Though great they may be I regret for to say
That on reading them you won't be laughing all day
It is good of you to honour their renown
But this evening I must say I feel a bit down
And though the poetry of Eliot, Whitman and Poe I even read as a boy
Their meaningful words never filled me with joy
If you wish to talk of poetry talk of something that's happy and light
Like the poems of Pam Ayres they are breezy and bright
Though she is one who is not seen as a poetic great
In her poetry the joy of laughter she create
Why talk to me of serious poets and their poetry today
When the tears from my eyes are not that far away
This evening I do need a good laugh or two
Something I cannot have whilst I'm talking to you.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Evening Hunger
When hunger came
I went to kitchen
Cooked rice
Made a soup of chicken
Hunger lessened
Had a glass of wine
Felt not comfortable
To have the food alone
Took the mobile phone
Called to him
Who lives same as I
Welcoming sudden invitation
He is to come
Prepared the table for two
Second glass of wine
Toasted with the friend
We had a happy time
Talking about problems
Transcendent solution
To the boarding evening
Tomorrow
How it will be
Hunger is not the curry for meal all the time
Wine is not the friend for loneliness all the time
poem by Udaya R. Tennakoon
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Evening Coconut
The statue of liberty is breathing in the air
Atlantis is waiting down below.
Late at night, flashing lights are sighted in the air.
Its no secret, what everybody knows.
It really dont matter much, which way I go.
But remember to pull over in the storm.
Have you seen the evening coconut
Bobbing on the bay?
Standing on the waters edge of stone
Someone there besides you
To hear the words you say
To show you things your eyes have never known.
Evening coconut, evening coconut
Evening coconut, evening coconut
Evening coconut, evening coconut
Evening coconut, evening coconut
Evening coconut, evening coconut
The statue of liberty is breathing in the air
While atlantis is waiting down below.
Late at night, flashing lights are sighted in the air.
Its no secret, what everybody knows.
Evening coconut, evening coconut
Evening coconut, evening coconut
Evening coconut, evening coconut
Evening coconut, evening coconut
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Poem Of The Evening
THE POEM OF THE EVENING
The poem of the evening
Is a small poem
It waits for its own words
And hears itself come slowly and surely
It knows by the time the darkness is here
It will already be real.
The poem of the evening
Is an easy and small poem
It may not mean much
But it comes so smoothly
It seems to laugh at the heat of the day
And love itself for being here.
The poem of the evening
After the long day
Is a happy poem
And it looks forward to praying the evening prayer forever.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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This Poetry
this poetry is a hiding place
the only nook left for me
running away from
every creature of the
party,
i take my time
and i do not really mind
what i write
whether i rhyme
this is another monologue
something i keep saying to myself
how can i like this and that
how can i tell you
about what i want to say to you?
there is no way
no place no society
there is no other entrance
or exit
from these tangles and
strangles
it is strange i mumble
i scramble and dabble
talking to myself
and pleasing myself
this is my corner
i keep talking and talking
you watch the tv series
you cry alone and i do not mind
if tears flood in this room
this is my place this is my silence
this is the poetry of escapism
i assume the shape of the bird's wing
i keep on flying without having to find any place
any island any sea any shore
the words keep coming, they do not go anywhere
anyway, that is how it is intended to be
nothing for nothing
talking and talking
somewhere everywhere
alone and everybody
the rain pours heavily on me
no one gets wet no one runs for shelter
no one really cares
halter swelter
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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What Poetry Mean To Me
What does poetry mean to me
Poetry is the air I breathe
Poetry is the words that feed
My soul
To make me whole
Poetry is what makes me blossom
In the middle of spring
Poetry is what grows my garden
And makes it flourish with nature
Beauty
Poetry Is
My magical whim's that supply all my
Fantasy and fills my hopes and dreams
Poetry is the strong desire that keep the
Flames of love burning
In the midst of the hour
And lights up the sky
With beautiful hues of colours
Spreads from one globe to
Another
To swim the ocean deep
Just because of love
Poetry is that and more, which I
Hate to carry this on and on
But
Poetry is the love of our life that visit
Us in our dreams
Poetry is
Me and the worlds that wakes every
Morning to bloom and blossom
Even after the death has played it last
Song that breaks our hearts
Poetry is tears and moans
Grief and pain that Hunt's the
Soul
Poetry is the rain crying from
The sky
The sun the moon with the golden
Light
Poetry is a child laughter at play
The tears a child shreds in sadness
They cry
Poetry is just a book of songs you
And I write down in our journal
Each and every day
We
Mix them together again and again
That is poetry
Poetry is life woes
Life happiness
Poetry is life
Here now and after
Poetry is you and I
poem by Carolyn Sears
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I have had my say
I have had my say
About sex and men
I have said it in many ways
And now is the time
To put my pen
In the service of
Romanic love to win,
To speak of matters
Of the soul if such a thing there be
To compare him to the beauty of snow
That blows in from across the sea
To romance you as I would has you
To romance the likes of me
To speak of the beauty of the male form
To take up arm with my pen
And squeeze out the beauty
As poetry was meant to be.
O my love, O my dear
Let me whisper sweet thing in your ear
I love you dear as I love you dearly
Till the 19th of never comes around
Till the time that the divine
Shall come to conquer me.
You are to me as the mption is to the sea.
You are to me as light is to heat
And I burns to be found in your arms
And beside you as you sleep
For you are to me the beauties
That weeps to behold your form
Such tears of joy as joy was born
Narcissus was a beauty boy
And Ganymede the same
And Hercules loved many boys
So the Greeks did say.
poem by David E. Patton
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Beauty at Dusk
The room is stilled
dimmed by evening light through
shuttered blinds
A perfect evening, summer spring
treees laced with early leaves
bright fields, sunlight on windowglass
an empty room
and silence
the brightness of the dusk is
blinding - more glaring than noon in dust
and the silence splinters with shrill throated birds
and distant laughter
til the laughter and the song seem silent too
part of the peace that oppresses this room
the beauty is too perfect
too real for me
poem by Geraldine Moorkens Byrne
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When I am Gone
Someday if people find my words
what will they think of me?
Will they scratch their heads and wonder
how I came to be
obsessed with thoughts that came alive?
How sometimes in the morning at five
I could not sleep nor wanted to sleep
and had to write 'til my time would end.
For words to me became my friend
and walked with me with a gentle step
and brought me peace when I had wept.
Or will they cast away my words
and think upon their own?
It would not sadden me at all
for I had always known
that poetry is for the soul to feel
and became for me my way to deal
with life.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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A Glass Of Wine
'What's in a glass of wine?'
There, set the glass where I can look within.
Now listen to me, friend, while I begin
And tell you what I see-
What I behold with my far-reaching eyes,
And what I know to be
Below the laughing bubbles that arise
Within this glass of wine.
There is a little spirit, night and day,
That cries one word, for ever and alway:
That single word is 'More!'
And whoso drinks a glass of wine, drinks him:
You fill the goblet full unto the brim,
And strive to silence him.
Glass after glass you drain to quench his thirst,
Each glass contains a spirit like the first;
And all their voices cry
Until they shriek and clamor, howl and rave,
And shout 'More!' noisily,
Till welcome death prepares the drunkard's grave,
And stills the imps that rave.
That see I in the wine:
And tears so many that I cannot guess;
And all these drops are labelled with 'Distress.'
I know you cannot see.
And at the bottom are the dregs of shame:
Oh! it is plain to me.
And there are woes too terrible to name:
Now drink your glass of wine.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Now Tell Me
Now tell me
what evening romance
I must endure
to lust over this magnificent skyline
and euphoric vista
in the eye of the storm
there are grey clouds
haloed with glowing tints
luring the cluster of trees
and innocent brush of breeze
lull the mind
like a glass of red wine
stirring desire
to cry for more
I watch in awe
and crave this view will last
as long as the sky
wears new dresses everyday
matching the mood
in my being
I am doused in happiness
just to view
the rapture of the evening.
poem by Leonard Dabydeen
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This Evening
this evening is another lovely evening
i see stars. i think of some memories. sticky ones. sweet ones.
mouthwatering ones between us. in the room dim and cold. warmed by our
two bodies.kisses. hugs. touches. caresses. whispers.
indeed, this is a lovely evening.
i have a glass of mild wine in my hand. an orange. an apple. some spices
of mint and chili. to make me feel hot on this lovely, cold night. the wind blows
from the sea. i hear the waves. but they are sounding so gently
reminding of a boat where we ride. kisses. hugs. touches. caresses.
whispers. making love. the boat stopped in the middle of the ocean.
both of us.
indeed this is a lovely evening. i have another glass of wine. an orange.
some chili. some pepper.
i like it hot. these memories. i have your picture in my hand. your last letter.
i have the picture of you and your husband. and your children. they all have
grown up. your daughter looks just like you. some smiles. hugs. kisses.
embraces. your family on your last wedding anniversary. in maryland.
indeed this is a lovely evening. an honest one.
everything is accepted. everything is true. and i wish you all the happiness.
for indeed this is a lovely evening. with myself. still strong as ever.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Balo
amidst the crowd of four to five
laughter becomes like the wind
and the rain
everything so light and funny
when we finally stand waiting
the side of my body leaning on the pole
with the evening light
the silence creeps like a caterpillar
on the leaf
we feel we are consumed
bit by bit
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Fertile Valleys Of Love
Fertile valleys of love,
Are you now overcome with wine? !
And like a diadem of beauty and a crown of glory;
But the waters will overflow the hiding places.
What can you say when, no one understands?
And like the first fruit of your love before the summer;
Who can you teach when, no one listens?
And like the summer and the winter in the land of your muse;
For, you have forgotten to be merciful.
The foaming wine,
The sun and the moon;
And like a heap out of a strong city!
But, he or she who swims spreads forth his or her hands;
And like the lovely dew in the morning.
Oh, Vineyard of red wine!
Red-red-wine! ! !
But, fury is not in me;
However, woe to the drunkards of this world!
For, your glorious beauty is now like a fading flower.
You have beem a strength to the poor my sweet one,
And to the needy in distress as well;
However, many will run away but, they cannot hide.
To reel to and fro like a drunkard,
But time will tell on this love,
And like a refuse on the ground,
But, who can understand the errors of mankind?
The joy of your presence is like the muse of success!
But, i am poured out like water;
And like a dream that has come true,
But this time is passing away.
Blessed is the one who consider the poor ones,
And from the gates of death to the passing of time!
But, in the fertile valleys of love i will rest my mind.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Sweet Evening Breeze
I was loud and a little sad
She was visiting from atlanta, georgia
She had come to spend the summer with her dad
I thought she was very pretty
We would kiss and hold hands
Every night by the football field
Her body was tan
From the afternoons by the public swimming pool
Chorus:
Sweet evening breeze
Blows around my thoughts and memories
As I lie here today
And drink my tea
I can still see
Sweet evening breeze
I saw her in a coffee shop
In a big hotel down in austin, texas
She had cut her long hair off
And replaced it with
Blue eyes of sadness
Still acted like we were kids
And she told me that she had to marry
And she asked me if I did
Still remember
Chorus:
Sweet evening breeze
Blows around my thoughts and memories
As I lie here today
And drink my tea
I can still see
Sweet evening breeze
How redundant the future can be
These days of old are very, very
Ridiculous for me to see
When I think about the real gone stories
And how time holds the winning hand
I can tell by the lines on our faces
And the young cant understand
That they look at me
When they look at themselves
Chorus:
Oh, sweet evening breeze
Blows around my thoughts and memories
As I lie here today
And drink my tea
I can still see
Sweet evening breeze
song performed by by John Mellencamp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Inward Beauty
Laughter the inward beauty
You come with Joy
So full & fresh
You come with happiness
The cure in sadness
You come with excitement
Mending the broken
Laughter the medicine
To our body & soul
The strength you give
The passion to carry on
When you come
Always within
Always on time
Ready to flow
Laughter, the inward beauty
so true, so faithful
Our inward beauty, laughter
poem by Fiefa Bruce
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Hey Where Have You Been?
have you been to London
to visit the Queen?
hey where have you been?
we are waiting
for another round of drinks
with you
a glass of wine
a marlboro stick
some peanuts
another glass
of margarita
remember the rain
and your naked
feet on the
muddy ground
remember the
storm and the
ceasing of the
thunder
remember me?
i am my poetry
now i must admit.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sometimes We Just Need to Let it Out
Talking to a friend with a form of Muscular Dystrophy today, shes been having a hard time of it so I told her I'd pray..
Sometimes all we need
Is a friend to talk to
A memory to share
It's important that
We have Someone who listens
Who understands
The friend that will
Listen without
Judgement
And without
Prejudice
Someone who will lift
A friend up in prayer
And reach out
When they are in pain.
Copyright Michelle R Kidwell
July.11.09
6: 23 P.M PST
poem by Michelle Kidwell
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Laughter - Laughter
LAUGHTER - LAUGHTER
laughter - laughter here I come
to make my friend smile and calm
jump and jump to the left to the right
thru the day time and night
laughter - laughter here I am
to make true all the sweetest dreams
like my friend always has in sleep
thru the very beautiful night
that will never skip
laughter - laughter here we are
my friend and I are blab - blab - blab
and we are happy and careless
cause the better future are waiting for us
laughter - laughter, who are you?
WHAT! you don't recognize me?
I am sorry, I thought I know you
but just let it be
because a real friendship doesn't care who we are
(build a strong good friendship among us)
poem by Juahta Sitepu
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Soul
tonight how can i be alone
with my soul immersed
inside a matter of not having
to point the edge where substance
begins where ether ends
mesh and mash and wires and
trenches
the body feels a fenced property
on the other hand the soul feels
this energy of atomic particles
radiating like light penetrating glass
a quantum physics kept
which a want to read and yet
i cannot really understand too well
this intertwining of soul and body
of thoughts and awareness
of laughter and silence.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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