Birds And Grains
in a relationship
the birds wait for the grains
whose meanings are
the birds to eat
the grains to be eaten
what a complimentary world is this
all in utmost pleasure
the mouth opens
another tongue fills in the void of hunger.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
The Crooked Ways Of The Tiny Birds 2
feelings are sometimes like the tiny birds
of summer feeding on a few grains
on the wide yards of the garden where the grasses
spread far
some do feel being smothered by the indifference of other
tiny birds
separated by the distance of the long lines of
parallel electric poles
imagine the image of tiny birds sitting in there
looking for pecking
one notices the vastness of the sky
the unfinished climb of the hill
the vanishing paths of trails long untrue
feelings like tiny birds fly away
but there is no reason to be afraid on the
facts of nonreciprocating birds
ah, the world is wide and too interesting
to be ignored
on a few grains one feeds upon
and having satisfied sits lonelier on the line of an electric pole
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Hour Glass
As grains start to fall, everything is new.
Nothing is known about what to do.
As the pile of grains continues to grow,
It seems easier to know which way to go.
When grains approach a quarter of the way,
Things appear less black and white versus an earlier day.
But the world is exciting and there’s plenty of time.
Any thoughts of the hour glass give way to the sublime.
Pleasure, money, power and love battle for share,
While the grains at the top become increasingly rare.
At half way flowing grains take on a resounding force,
Though few pay attention as they race on their course.
Mental and physical factors band together as reminders,
But many still prefer to continue using their blinders.
As the grains accumulate to their three quarters state,
The niave and unprepared are in for a sad, brutal fate.
They still act as if they have power over the grains and the glass.
Nothing could be more wrong as the last few grains pass.
For matter not the importance or the manner of any man
When his last grain falls, the hour glass won’t turn over again.
poem by Gregory Huyette
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
When the birds fly
When the birds fly
the mind opens its eye
the heart looks up to the sky
the birds fly.
The birds fly south
the ear opens its mouth
the nose sees summer
the kids they are playing out...
When the birds fly
we dream our words dont die.
Reborn with a babys cry
the birds fly leaving stars
they stay in the night,
we are the birds
we escape to the light.
poem by Daniel McCann
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
King's biography
Kings’ biographies are seeds sown.
Beggars’ biographies are grains eaten.
Millions of grains are eaten
Against a grain planted.
10.01.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Maya
little brown birds with grey beaks and a patch of black
on their heads
three of them
drinking water on a pond of water created
by the little rain this morning
as i go near them
they all look at me and then in a sudden
they all fly away leaving some ripples in the
muddled pond
i never think of them as my enemies
they all leave at once
i do not have a gun
or a club or a slingshot
what i have in my hands are rice grains, nothing but rice grains
yes, rice grains for all of them
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Drying The Grains Under The Sun....
we dry the grains today
under the sun
they die.
they shrink.
we think that by dying
the grains can stay that long
and then
ready for the next steaming
delicious for our
mouths
filling our hunger
in times of drought.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Good Morning
waking up late
light pushes itself inside the slits of the windows
the sky blue curtains filtering
the hues of
little rainbows
he rubs his eyes
discovering he was all alone
the whole night
there were dreams he could not remember anymore
he sets the curtains aside
opens the window
looks at the garden below
sees the birds feeding on some grains spread to the ground
he hears a song from his heart
a nice one now
and to please what has been disturbing him
a void, a thorny feeling, last night, or was it the other night
he compliments himself with
good morning world
thanks, i am still alive.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Patience, Patience
the child with a black coat
on this cold day
sits there beside a brick
church of spanish
architecture
the yard is quiet except
for the sound of the flapping
of doves feedind on some
rice grains
the boy has a black hair
and his feet are stained with
mud his fingers dirty with
some sticky sauce
he spreads the rice grains
from his palm to the
muddy grounds
the doves hover and land
on the spot where the grains
are freely spread
he sits with them
surrounded
the doves are watching him
and he watches carefully each
dove that eyes on his grains
he likes to snatch just one
to bring home to mother
the doves are too careful
it is just the rice grains nothing more
eye to eye
both wait for what shall happen next
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Crooked Ways Of The Tiny Birds
feelings are sometimes like the tiny birds
of summer feeding on a few grains
on the wide yards of the garden where the grasses
spread far
some feels being smothered by the indifference of other
tiny birds
separated by the distance of the long lines of
parallel electric poles
imagine the image of tiny birds sitting in there
looking for pecking
one notices the vastness of the sky
the unfinished climb of the hill
the vanishing paths of trails long untrue
feelings like tiny birds fly away
but there is no reason to be afraid on the
facts of nonreciprocating birds
ah, the world is wide and too interesting
to be ignored
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Before My Eyes
I see before my eyes the wonderful words,
Speak them around the mouth to sustain,
So that meanings are clear to the birds.
I saw so many reasons to master and also afterwards,
Seen so many sessions of praise of this book to attain,
I see before my eyes the wonderful words.
Created and longed for, the books and pages are blizzards,
Looking for times so tight with sin again,
So that meanings are clear to the birds.
May we attain longevity when we read books backwards,
Leaning against the wall to hasten the air plane,
I see before my eyes the wonderful words.
Pleasing us one way is like living a way of life with hazards,
Leading is a disease of words, so frightening for after pain,
So that meanings are clear to the birds.
Can the heraldry of our country be the same innards,
Liking this sign captures the books’ meanings from the brain,
So that meanings are clear to the birds,
I see before my eyes the wonderful words.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Feeding The Chickens
the grains in your hands
you spread them on the ground
chickens come near you
making you feel like you are the
United States of America
and they are the countries that depend on you
those third world bastards
those colonies, those developing ones
the grains become your bombs
under your keeping
you think you are the only one who has that sole
divine right to keep these grains (yes the bombs)
inside your hands
Holy cow! Who are you? Who are YOU!
(repeat the question 10x)
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
My Dream Regarding The Two Beautiful Birds
i
how do you get to
hit two beautiful birds
with a single
stone?
ii
or how to make these two
beautiful birds to get to stay
beside my window sill?
iii
how do i make these two beautiful birds
happier?
shall i make a bird house on a tree
beside my house
and give them grains every morning of the day?
iv
how do i make this dream about two beautiful birds
into a reality? they keep on chirping inside my mind
wanting to be given the realistic form of wings
like some eyebrows
wings flapping just above my eyes
the mountains my cheeks
my mind the skies
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Complaceny
from my hands
you little bird with a black beak
shall take the grains
i wait for time to grow you
strong wings so you can fly away and join
your family
and then you have wings
why do you want to stay still in my house
pecking the grains in my hands?
what is it
that you love on the lines of my palms?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Lovely And Beautiful
Life is to be lovely and beautiful
If you want to be successful
No double standard or no treachery
Then there won't come any misery
Let us go to nature
Where we find our future
Birds and breeze all same
I don’t know where from they all came
But there is melody
We find solution and remedy
They have no worry
At east no burden to carry
Every one does work calmly
It goes on very happily
There remains to be complete harmony
We can’t have joy even after spending money
I find them quarrel too
But again same when they are through
No more to snatch for further store
Wait for next day to explore
Everybody is happy around
They have only joy to see around
No more tension to carry forward
Only some grains to look toward
I find it reasonable
Even birds are capable
We got to be contended
Even though the need to be attended
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The State Of Non-meaning
so many sands
long term plans
so many grains of sands
on the beach on the mind of man
oh, i guess
so many poems composed
each poem has become a grain of sands
so many grains
from my mouth
to my hands to my feet to the beach to the sands of time
in search for meaning
when actually there is none.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
GRAINS of SAND
Grains of sand
on which I stand
burn my feet
from the sun's intense heat.
I bury them quickly
to keep them cool.
The grains of sand
can be too cruel.
And now I know
I played the fool
for I left my sandals
where it was cool.
Afraid to move,
I see a child.
I call to him
as if I'm wild.
'My shoes, my shoes
please bring them here.'
He looks and waves,
then disappears.
And so I stay
and face the day
stuck in grains of sand.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I Need A Complimentary
I need a complimentary
Just a smile would be energy
In a hard day of work
It will raise my spirit to hold on
I need a complimentary
Just a ‘thank you’ would be necessary
Though my job is small and looks unimportant
I help you in the place you can not see
I need a complimentary
Just a hug would be insurance
That what I do is worth to fight
Even I should sacrifice myself
I need a complimentary
Just a soft tap would be a relief
I need you to acknowledge me
So I could be a better me
I need a complimentary
Just a cup of tea would be enough
To quench my thirst in longing
And I don’t waste my time in waiting
I need a complimentary
Just a simple comment would be happiness
When at least you remember me
Though you don’t mean it as anything
poem by Maria Sudibyo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
It's A Beautiful Morning
AS i open the door
i see birds flying and playing in the air
i see chickens feeding on the grains
the sun is peeping
and the world is beginning to enjoy the light
the darkness of the night is over
it is enough
now is the time for basking
in the light
to hear the laughter of the strangers
as you go your own way
in the pursuit of happiness.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Hypothetical Departures
the kettle is not
in its proper place
grains of rice
scattered on the
path
no birds pecking
this time
the cat on the fence
is keen
but helpless
leaves in heaps
there is no wind this time
i think about
burning
the curtains are
unmoved
dusts settle
layered
there is a story
to tell
the archeologists
are not bringing their
brushes
of history
even the winds
if you taste them
are bitter
when the gate opens
this time
no hand shall open it
again
a woman sits
staring blankly to a humid
morning
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Surroundings-22
Window Sill Visitors
Pet invitees birds hunt
Racing for a fist of grains
Poking in intruder-squirrels
Chasing them on quicker quest
poem by Indira Renganathan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!