Breaker
amidst the busy day
the hurry and the blurry
of things and events to come
i take a break. Poetry.
Images of sunlight where the sunflower rides
across the window
the sea, a boat, a little boy playing on the shore
a man paddling,
a woman with a hat waiting for the fish
the wind gets in
i smell salt and i feel the coldness.
back to paper work
and reality, a table of folders
names and figures
reasons and justifications
citations
15 years now
more to go till i get 70
how do i get there?
ah, i need sleep,
i will have my siesta.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
Small Things
it's so easy to miss
the things that really matter.
the small child looking up
at you, wanting to be
picked up.
the way sunlight dances
on rain wet leaves.
the person you bump into,
that smiles with that look
of something they want to say,
and you're in too big of a hurry
to listen.
the old man in his rocking chair,
waiting on you to call.
the dog that rolls over,
waiting on a belly rub.
the woman staring out the window
while you rattle on about work.
the ants going to and from their hill,
doing life's work.
the rose that opens and closes
without you taking the time
to smell, and to touch.
the hawk flying overhead
in the limitless sky.
the hand that brushes yours,
and you dont notice.
the voice on the phone
that wants to say 'come home'.
but doesnt because you're busy.
small things that come and go.
tiny universes, tiny miracles.
lost in the rush to.
poem by Eric Cockrell
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A Paper-boat just on the Sea!
A paper-boat, I tend to be!
The sea of life is too stormy;
Afraid I am, it could sink me,
Before I can reach land’s safety!
But if He wants, the Almighty,
Could work miracles still for me;
And guide the boat to shore safely,
And keep me dry eternally!
A paper-boat just on the sea!
How can it float for long freely?
And when the sea becomes angry,
Can it escape its cruelty?
But all the same, I move slowly;
Nothing on earth can deter me;
Unless something so cowardly,
Drenches the boat mercilessly.
A paper-boat just on the sea!
I know I must make it surely;
And when I reach the shore, may be,
I will feel immensely happy!
A paper-boat just on life’s sea!
Who else would want to be like me?
God is my guide and my safety;
In Him, I have strong faith truly!
A paper-boat just on the sea!
A paper-boat, I tend to be;
A paper-boat, I want to be-
A paper-boat just on life’s sea!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 4-26-2000
poem by John Celes
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Will sunflower find it's lover
What a wonderful sunflower is
sunflower has attractive colour
It is very simple
How much sunflower loves to sun
We can't imagine
sunflower is very faithful
sunflower gets up early in the morning
wash it's face with dew drops
worthwhile you are
sunflower waits the sun
It begins to looking towards the sun
you are my best friend
As sun moves, It follows blindly
no matter hot or cold
you are innocent
It goes behind the sun
till the sun set
sunflower remains with it
At the end of the day
beautiful sunflower feels tird
it becomes sad
but it says to sun good night
till the morning
with the hope to meet again
sunflower goes to sleep
Does sun knows about
The love of the sunflower
will sunflower find it's lover
how many years sunflower
has to wait
I can keep hope
soon........
april 12,2008
abdul razaq
poem by Abdul Razaq
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In Working With Images....
when we work with images
they become real, touchable,
i, too, smell
what has been transformed by
a dream
like a bread
baked
sending its fresh flavor
in the air
hot tea is served in the cold
corners of the mind
i am seeing beauty
and shapes of bodies come out from
glossy paper
i severed myself from the pains of
you
the images are real and they do not ask
if things are moral
i embrace all these images for the main reason
that i must live
my life
amidst the rules of this mundane games
every night i sleep late
transforming what this world thinks as invisible
in the morning
virtual leaves fall at the foot of the real tree
on top of grass, as green as my mind
flowers are flaming
like fire
in my belly.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Earthcrosser
Sleep little flea
Little boy ? me?
A freak
Am I clean?
([background whisper] sleep)
I feel like men
(sleep little flea)
I feel like boys
(little boy me)
I think Im peeling
And the ring in my ears
From playing too loud
I hear the ocean
I hear the crowd
Disconnected
I am unattached
Unmade bed makes me feel like a failure
Bedroom eyes lead to blurry vision
Blurry vision
Oh...
Oh...
And the ring in my ears
From playing too loud
I hear the ocean
I hear the crowd
Too pale, too sick
Too scrawny
But Ill sleep here anyway
And the sheets smell like bodies
Not mine
Not yours
Not yours...
Its 2 am
And its quiet again
Wheres my lip gloss?
And the ring in my ears
From playing too loud
I hear the ocean
I hear the crowd
And the ring in my ears
From playing too loud
I hear the ocean
I hear the crowd
And the ring in my ears
From playing too loud
I hear the ocean
I hear the crowd
song performed by by Veruca Salt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Hidden Poem With In Us
Poetry hinds behind the very tears we shed
It hides in the very pain we feel
It hides deep inside our locked emotions
When you feel confused there a poem hiding with all the answers
Poetry hides in the shadows that follow you around
It hides in the mumbling sound of our depressed voices
it hides in the locked up anger we all have
Poetry hides in the voices in our mind that is put on mute
Poetry hides behind the secrete window in our minds we painted black
But the thing about poetry is that it seems to be playing a game of hide-and-seek
But in reality it just waiting to be unleashed and told
It lies dormant locked up in chains we created our selves
We just got to let it free and let it tell its story
poem by Stephen Merced
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A Paper Boat On A Murky River
on your hand is a paper boat
you made last night
on a rainy day like this
you put on a gray rain coat
the river rises
perfect for your scheme
you put the boat gently
on the brown water
white paper boat
carried by this murkiness
your hands push
the paper boat leaves
tonight you sleep on
the wooden floor
it is mahogany brown and you
become the paper boat
sailing inside your dream
the floor becomes the big river
your thoughts become the wind
your eyes become two moons
the room is as dark as the night
the dream is so alive like a mother's song.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Fisher Child's Lullaby
THE wind is out in its rage to-night,
And your father is far at sea.
The rime on the window is hard and white
But dear, you are near to me.
Heave ho, weave low,
Waves of the briny deep;
Seethe low and breathe low,
But sleep you, my little one, sleep, sleep.
The little boat rocks in the cove no more,
But the flying sea-gulls wail;
I peer through the darkness that wraps the shore,
For sight of a home set sail.
Heave ho, weave low,
Waves of the briny deep;
Seethe low and breathe low,
But sleep you, my little one, sleep, sleep.
Ay, lad of mine, thy father may die
In the gale that rides the sea,
But we'll not believe it, not you and I,
Who mind us of Galilee.
Heave ho, weave low,
Waves of the briny deep;
Seethe low and breathe low,
But sleep you, my little one, sleep, sleep.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Earhtcrosser
Sleep little flea
Little boy
Me a freak
Am I clean?
I feel like men
I feel like boys
I think Im peeling the ringing in my ears from playing too loud
I hear the ocean
I hear the crowd
Im disconnected
I am unattached
An unmade bed makes me feel like a failure
Bedroom eyes lead to blurry vision
And the ringing in my ears from playing too loud
I hear the ocean
I hear the crowd
Too pale
Too sick
Too scrawny
But Ill sleep here anyway
And the sheets smell like bodies
Not mine
Not yours
Its two a.m. and its quiet again
Wheres my lip gloss?
song performed by by Veruca Salt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fish the Fish
fish makes every fish catch, the tail that
smell like fish as the angler bait its fishing
rod bit each heart beat, the triumphant
heart break its brake the nylon cord that
hold the hook that synchronize the timing
swings of each hand lifting as it goes
catching the net as it swing in the thread
that fishes the fish
strength hold on, tie so quick on, leave no
loose every cost is to repulse, time is
sweeten in the fish in the table all are
refresh, every fisherman switch the light in
the kitchen the kittle, the cool plate and the
fire is burning on
sweet smells like a baby, in every nose so
shiny, in every dinning table everybody is
happy ready to take like party, now all
hands should hold, and bring every magical
strength enfold, the fish is in the running
water waiting for us to carry in every heart,
please prepare the place, the net is
empty …… come and fish the fish
poem by Antonio Liao
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Look Back In Anger
You know who I am, he said
The speaker was an angel
He coughed and shook his crumpled wings
Closed his eyes and moved his lips
Its time we should be going
(waiting so long, Ive been waiting so, waiting so)
Look back in anger, driven by the night
Till you come
(waiting so long, Ive been waiting so, waiting so)
Look back in anger, see it in my eyes
Till you come
No one seemed to hear him
So he leafed through a magazine
And, yawning, rubbed the sleep away
Very sane he seemed to me
(waiting so long, Ive been waiting so, waiting so)
Look back in anger, driven by the night
Till you come
(waiting so long, Ive been waiting so, waiting so)
Look back in anger, feel it in my voice
Till you come
(waiting so long, ahhh...)
(waiting so long, Ive been waiting so, waiting so) (waiting so long, Ive been waiting so, waiting so)
(waiting so long, ahhh...)
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There's Not Too Many Reasons
There's not too many reasons,
I would...
Set aside my pride.
And there's...
Not too many reasons,
I would...
Not have a peaceful sleep at night.
No!
There's not too many reasons,
Why I...
Wouldn't eat or wish to feel that need.
Or...
Feel a hopelessness inside me,
Without you.
No!
There's not too many reasons,
Why I could not cope.
And...
There's not too many reasons,
Why I'd give up hope.
And...
There's not too many reasons,
Why I'd be on knees.
No...
There's not too many reasons,
Why I could not eat.
And...
There's not too many reasons,
Why I could not sleep.
Or believe there's a me to live and breathe,
Without you.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Poetry Time
forget work for a while
leave the paper piles as they are
let them grow
up to the sky
let reality be a mountain
before you
and let things work on
themselves
let them have hands
and feet
let them have wings
and fly away
it is poetry time
my heart is king and the rest
of these fantasies
are nymphs and fauns
come butterflies
come stars
let them know that there are wings
and light and fire and glitters and diamonds
comes the moon shining
this lady coming too early at noontime
dancing on my table
with fireflies and lies
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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S4
now i am hearing the rushing steps
of the fish vendor
towards the market
passing by the road fronting
my blinds
a busy day,
the red ant below my feet is at it again
finding some crumbs
of cookies
under the computer table
beside the swivel chair
i always have a word
despite,
the ant wonders
why are you doing this?
the nails have no feelings
and so are the feet of the chairs
the monitor is a eunuch
the room fills itself with so much mess
rambling books
scattered papers still unread
piling folders and
dusty nooks
the light brown curtains need
badly a laundrywoman
the walls are calling for a painter
and the floors yell for a scrubbing and mopping
this is the earth of being
needing an updat a cleansing of some sort
a deluge perhaps
and what must remain must only be the essentials
a pen a piece of paper
discard the table and the chair
for man can squat
and still relate to what is bare and empty.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Radio With Guts
it was on the 2nd floor on Coronado Street
I used to get drunk
and throw the radio through the window
while it was playing, and, of course,
it would break the glass in the window
and the radio would sit there on the roof
still playing
and I'd tell my woman,
"Ah, what a marvelous radio!"
the next morning I'd take the window
off the hinges
and carry it down the street
to the glass man
who would put in another pane.
I kept throwing that radio through the window
each time I got drunk
and it would sit there on the roof
still playing-
a magic radio
a radio with guts,
and each morning I'd take the window
back to the glass man.
I don't remember how it ended exactly
though I do remember
we finally moved out.
there was a woman downstairs who worked in
the garden in her bathing suit,
she really dug with that trowel
and she put her behind up in the air
and I used to sit in the window
and watch the sun shine all over that thing
while the music played.
poem by Charles Bukowski
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After Poetry-reading (with apologies to Robert Frost)
My library door’s still open
with its invitations and its promises
and empty shelves waiting to be filled
and on the table two or three new books
yet unread; but I’m done with poetry-reading now.
I’m sleepy; I’m full of poetry;
smell of poetry; taste of poetry;
close to, you can hear me buzz..
I can’t get the sound of other poets
out of my head.
Sometimes it’s envy; sometimes
just annoyance, like the sound
of the man next door with his buzz-saw;
and I can’t help hearing, too,
the sound of postboy bringing yet more books
by other poets; the presses rumbling
with yet more poetry books to come..
some, I fear, they’ll ask me to ‘review’..
yes, I’ve had too much of what
I helped to start – that great harvest
of ‘American Poetry’ ten thousand thousand
graduates of college courses;
chapbooks, self-print, little mags, by the barrel-load
and so many bad apples to each barrel;
fruiting like sour crabs
on the dead wood of faculty appointments;
how much wood can this woodchuck chuck,
amidst the woods and two paths’ luck?
jeez, I’m sleepy; feel a long sleep coming on;
the book I’m holding slides from my hands,
its pages turn without my turning them;
like you, my fingers, mind… frost-bitten.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Hit It
1st verse
Somebody said what are you doin down there
Trying to make me a living
All I want is to get my fair share
Im pleading but nobodys giving
Maybe Im wrong, and I dont see things clear
But I know how I feel after all the these years
Ill keep fighting the pain and the heartache and tears
Chorus
Then Ill push it, going to work it
Keep right on till I hit it
Im going to push it, going to work it
Keep right on till I hit it
Push it, going to work it
Keep right on till I hit it
Im going to push it, going to work it
Keep right on till I hit it
2nd verse
Looking up cause Ive got time to spare
Today the sun aint shining
Im still searching everywhere
For my cloud with the silver lining
People say that enough is enough
Turn my back on this thing put it down to bad luck
But the day I do that, then my life will be up
Chorus
So Ill push it, going to work it
Keep right on till I hit it
Im going to push it, going to work it
Keep right on till I hit it
Push it, going to work it
Keep right on till I hit it
Im going to push it, going to work it
Keep right on till I hit it
song performed by by Ub40
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Primary And Secondary
bread and butter thing
water and white rice on the table
eggs and vegetables
spread on the covered table
these are the primaries of life
poetry is at nighttime
reading aloud
composing some more
analyzing other poets' works
telling to yourself
this smacks the senses
this strikes the core of my being
this will not make me sleep again
invigorating
worth the lost salt of myself
not looking back
moving on
sailing on the boat in the middle
of such storm
seeking peace
sleeping alone and dreaming
these are the secondaries of existence
tomorrow can be
incompetent
today is the most evident
the past is duly taken
notice
the void comes
and then to its wings i take my daily ride.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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All My Life
Is it the way that you feel when Im kissing on you
Or is it the soul I can see in your eyes
The clothes that you wear or the smell of your hair
Or is it the way I cant sleep when youre not there
All my life, Ive been waiting for you
All my life, Ive been waiting for you
Is it the way that you feel deep inside
Or is it the way that I feel so alive
Your star and your flair are beyond compare
Or is it the way that we feel when were on fire
All my life, Ive been waiting for you
All my life, oh i, Ive been waiting for you
Every night, oh Ive been waiting for you
All my life, Ive been waiting for you
All my life, Ive been waiting for you
All my life, Ive been waiting for you
All my life, Ive been waiting for you
All my life, oh i, Ive been waiting for you
All my life, Ive been waiting for you
Ive been waiting for you
Ive been waiting for you
Ive been waiting for you
Ive been waiting for you
Ive been waiting for you
song performed by by Lenny Kravitz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Children's Love
A boy and girl are playing games,
Dressed so neatly, calling out names;
The field has grass that’s very green;
There’s none to witness this great scene!
Engrossed in play, they run and jump,
Unmindful of the near-by stump;
They sing some rhymes and laugh and smile;
They kiss each other in great style!
Two busy innocent faces;
Two hearts of love afilled bases;
Two minds with ideas in place-
The touching beauty souls amaze!
Small children playing, lovely seems;
God knows their thoughts and divine dreams;
Sometimes, they fight and let off screams,
Amidst the foliage, sunlight beams!
poem by John Celes
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