Black Bird Singing
a black bird flies on top of the house
and perches upon a tree
fronting it
i stand by the window
looking at the scenery of sea and sand
and alternating rustic fronds
pine trees and grass
the black bird begins to sing
asking for attention
then we see each other eye to eye
it is i who blink first.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Poem Of Syntax
A poet and his bird, his dog, his cat and his tree
A poet and the bird in the tree
A poet and his dog in the tree
A poet and his dog in the tree and the wind and the cloud
The bird in the tree, the dog in the tree, the cat in the tree,
The bird in the tree, the dog on the tree, the cat under the tree,
The bird on the tree, the bird in a tree, a bird in a tree, a bird in the tree,
And the wind and the cloud and the poet and his dog and his cat and the tree
The dog chases the cat the cat chases the bird
And they all arrive in that tree
Where the poet is sitting under that tree
The poet takes the dog and the cat was envious
And the bird looks at them in silence
The silence looks at the poet in the eye
Of the cat and the bird flies away
The poet and the dog is the poem of friendship
The cat and the dog is the poem of the endless natural quarrels
And the bird that flies away against the cat and the dog and the poet and the tree
And flies against the wind that the bird is now fighting
And the clouds that seem so blue and blue
The bird that actually flies away
Is actually me
I was not the poet with the dog
I am not the tree I am not the wind I am not the cloud I am not the poet there who had a dog as friend and I was not the quarrelsome thing from the blue and out of the blue
I am the bird with wings and I always fly away to places
Against the wind to places where I can be as always be the bird with wings in silence
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Matter Of Decision
the black bird of loneliness
hovers over the window of the house
and stops to look at
our roof
we shoo it away
there is no place here
where it can build its own nest
we still wait for the bird of bounty
the one that brings us
the eggs of grace
the feathers of happiness
it is the only bird that we welcome here
as a matter of our own decision
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Little Black Bird And The Wooden Railing
it is a black bird with a shade of red
on its upper wing
that perches on the wooden beam
cracking under the sun
last summer
below the beam are the tall reeds
i forget whether it was the black bird
or the tall reeds
which was singing
but i am sure i heard a song
so sad like a dying note from the throat
of a mad man.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Lone Palm
Lone palm
By: jimmy buffett
1993
My garden is filled with papayas and mangos
My life is a mixture of reggaes and tangos
Taste for the good life
I cant live it no other way
While out on the beach there are two empty chairs
That say more than the people who ever sit there
>from under my lone palm
I can look out on the day
Chorus:
Where no bird flies by my window
No ship is tied to my tree
Love is a wave building to a crescendo
Ride if you will, ride it with me
I knew this girl made of memories and phrases
Who lived her whole life in both chapters and stages
Danced til the dawn
Wished all her worries away
Well she wasnt crazy, no she wasnt mad
She just wanted the father that she never had
>from under my lone palm
I think about her today
Chorus:
Where no bird flies by my window
No ship is tied to my tree
Love is a wave building to a crescendo
Ride if you will, ride it with me
We sailed from the port of indecision
Young and wild with oh so much to learn
Days turned into years
As we tried to fool our fears
But to the port of indecision I returned
My gardens are filled with papayas and mangos
My life is a mixture of jingles and jangles
Come christmas winds
Blow all my worries away
Chorus:
Where no bird flies by my window
No ship is tied to my tree
Love is a wave building to a crescendo
Ride if you will, ride it with me
Sing if you will, sing to the sea
(no bird flies by my window)
(no ship is tied to my tree)
song performed by by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Want To Be Free
(words & music by jerry leiber - mike stoller)
Theres no joy in my heart,
Only sorrow
And Im sad
As a man can be
I sit alone in the darkness
Of my lonely room
And this room
Is a prison to me
I look at window
And what to I see
I see a bird
Way up in the tree
I want to be free free
Free - ee - ee - ee
I want to be free
Like the bird in the tree
What good are my eyes,
They cant see you
And my arms,
They cant hold so tight
I have two lips
That are yearning,
But theyre no good to me
Cause I know I cant kiss you tonight
I look at window
And what to I see
I see a bird
Way up in the tree
I want to be free free
Free - ee - ee - ee
I want to be free
Like the bird in the tree
I want to be free
Like the bird in the tree
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mocking Bird, Mocking Man
he is sometimes
tempted to mimic a mockingbird
that mimics him
most of the times
on top of the tree fronting
his window where he
faces the sun and moon
the mockingbird mocks him the moment he mocks it
and he in turn mocks the mockingbird that mocks him when he mocks it
both of them are bored
and have nothing good to do
they mock each other
morning noon and nigh time
bird man bird, man bird man bird
in truth the man wants to be a mockingbird
in truth the mockingbird wants to be a man
the problem is
no one is talking and no one is listening
no one wants to be himself/itself forever.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Want To Be Free (Take 11)
There's no joy in my heart,
only sorrow
And I'm sad
as a man can be
I sit alone in the darkness
of my lonely room
And this room
is a prison to me
I look at window
and what to I see
I see a bird
way up in the tree
I want to be free free
Free - ee - ee - ee
I want to be free
like the bird in the tree
What good are my eyes,
they can't see you
And my arms,
they can't hold so tight
I have two lips
that are yearning,
but they're no good to me
Cause I know I can't kiss you tonight
I look at window
and what to I see
I see a bird
way up in the tree
I want to be free free
Free - ee - ee - ee
I want to be free
like the bird in the tree
I want to be free
like the bird in the tree
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Black Bird That Keeps On Flying
the black bird
keeps on flying
over my head
its wing tips
touch my hair
the black bird
weeps
and my mind
cannot ignore
it
it is seeing you
again
and it does not
know
what to do
with its beak
it wants to kiss you
but your eyes
are angry
it wants to land over
your hair
but they are hard
as wires
the black bird
has no nest for
its eggs
you never mind it
your mind
thinks always of
that white bird
in the sky
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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This Afternoon....
you see a black bird
moving opposite your direction
there is no identification for any intimacy
and tired perhaps of
means to get to know you
it flies away
northbound
perhaps someone with the
capacity for intimacy
waits there
who knows
what the language of the black bird is
its beak does not
woodpeck
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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T-birds
Circle high, circle low.
Jammers fly, t-birds.
You show, you show, whiplash go.
You show, you show, t-birds. mighty bird.
T-bird, my mighty bird.
On the dot in the slot, tie the knot.
On the dot timed kisses.
In the slot on the dot, tie the knot.
In the slot, no misses.
Mighty bird.
T-bird, my mighty bird.
T-bird, mighty bird.
Black sun conquerer.
Two thousand years ago... a great race... warriors... lived in... they had many gods... mayans... gods... mazatlan... (if you can fill in these blanks please email [email protected])
Black sun worshipper.
Coil it up, wind it out, strike it hot!
Coil it up plumed serpent.
Coil it up, wind it out, strike it hot!
Coil it up, my t-bird.
Serpent curl.
T-bird, rule the world.
T-bird, mighty bird.
Black sun born again.
Oh I love my t-bird, t-bird.
song performed by by Blondie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Submission to Warning
i walk outside
the sun going down
the big black bird
visiting again
he crows at me
im just walking by
but he insists to call
like a warning
i should obey
what do you want
stupid black bird
your turn to leave
dont bother me this way
but he keeps on
calling my name
crowing in shame
as i walk by him
his eyes on me
almost like a sign
whining for attention
waiting for my submission
i surrender to him
he speaks soft
he tells me to stop
he opens his mouth
as the words come out
'i wanted to warn you
theres a man out here
wanting you dead
so dont move ahead
go inside
go to bed'
a warning so soft
the big black bird
waited for my attention
to warn me
the bad man
was out tonight
i didnt move ahead
i went back to bed
poem by Audrey Marie Kay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Little Bird
Little Bird up in the tree
won’t you sing a song for me,
something sweet and romantic say
before you wake up and fly away.
Little bird don’t be shy,
please sing me a song of love
before you fly way up above.
Little bird some joy bring
before you take to the wing.
Little bird up in the tree
please sing a song for me.
27 September 2008
poem by David Harris
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Black Woman
black woman
woman black
sing to me
sing to me
like Roberta Flack
tell me your longing
say you'll be there
tell it like honey
your cool moist breath
black woman
black as the cat
who strives in the night
sleek as the bird
daring in flight
black as the land
in which you were born
and bleak the day
from that earth
you were torn
black angel
black eyes aware
ebony skin
natural hair
black woman
woman black
love me forever
love me now
don't hold back
poem by Martin A. Ramos
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Because It Sings....
there is a man inside the cage
but you cannot tell that he is a man
because
by all appearances of it
it has black wings, sharp claws, it is muted
by a beak
it can only sing in syllables
it is wrapped by
shiny feathers
it is a bird, a black bird and by all means
you cannot tell
that it is angry
because it sings.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Unwilling Witness
i have seen a black bird
high on the leafless tree
and i hear a shot
once twice thrice
and i see the face of the
boy and he runs away
he takes away the black bird
that falls dead on the
pebbled ground
and i follow him
erasing every trace
of his footstep
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Fate Of The Black Bird
the black bird flies alone against the blue sky
it is lonely and that is the truth that lies in every black feather of its strong wings
if only it can change its course
and find a place where there are other black birds like it
perhaps it will turn back and learn to sing the song of the black flock
it is not a way of life that its father had handed to it upon its beak and claws
it is not even a choice and never did it ever imagine that it shall be alone against the blue skies
against the black nights and against the towering peaks of mountains
there is no other way of rationalizing about it except fate,
it is the destiny that chose its path and it is simply following the dictates of the stars.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Last Night About The Black Bird
last night this black bird
arrived in your house
bringing you the news
from its master
your hands and feet
tremble
for this was something
very terrible
last night you went
down from your room
and reflected upon the
roots of that old
big tree on the
yard of your house
the black bird had
already flown away
like a stone
thrown in the middle
of a dark night
things always disappear
from you
you ponder
about yourself
the first hello
the happiest moment
the past passes
like a film strip
in your mind
things always tell you about
some unhappy endings
the news about a
certain blackout is inevitable
the blackbird, yes,
the blackbird, now you are pretty sure about it
it was a crow bringing you
about a sad news
the color of which is
as black as the color
of midnight.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Palm Tree
Palm-tree: single-legged giant,
topping other trees,
peering at the firmament -
It longs to pierce the black cloud-ceiling
and fly away, away,
if only it had wings.
The tree seems to express its wish
in the tossing of its head:
its fronds heave and swish -
It thinks, Maybe my leaves are feathers,
and nothing stops me now
from rising on their flutter.
All day the fronds the windblown tree
soar and flap and shudder
as though it thinks it can fly,
As though it wanders in the skies,
travelling who knows where,
wheeling past the stars -
And then as soon as the wind dies down,
the fronds subside, subside:
the mind of the tree returns.
To earth, recalls that earth is its mother:
and then it likes once more
its earthly corner.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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The Mocking Bird On The Tree Fronting The House...
a mocking bird
sits on a branch of a tree
that fronts the house that
papa made
papa is gone.
a mocking bird left but one
sunny day
after the heavy rains for months
the mocking bird comes back
it is bringing silence
unlike all the other mocking birds
in town
the mocking bird is dead
a boy abandoned by his mother
stoned it
now the window if you walk a little
distant from the house
and sit on a bench across the road
looks like a Cheshire cat
giving Alice that fable smile.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Nice Day
bird with a yellow
feather
chirping on a branch
of a tree
fronting my glass
window
i rub doubt away
from my eyelids.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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