En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Cenon...

just the same i took the shot
he posed with his teeth protruding to the sun
his half body beside the
clear and calm river
flowing

i was there looking for a man
carrying a plow on his shoulder
muddy feet and
shriveled hair and
furrowed skin on his forehead

but then i was told that he had long died
of tuberculosis
and that he had no son and wife
to mourn for him

Cenon is ok.

but he is never enough
to fill in the gaps of the loneliness
the summing
up of all deprived humanity

he is getting bald
and no one speaks about it somehow

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Loneliness

Heart breaks in loneliness.
A frosty morning; daylight repeals it, and I feel loneliness
on the eve of the day.
When it rains,
a swallow wants to denote a song.
But, after that world calls loneliness.
I see the river flowing, and I come closer to the bank.
I heard the river roaring more in loneliness.
When I stay in my study room
thinking past events, my conscience becomes more powerful in loneliness.
It’s better to stay sometimes in loneliness.
We need sometimes to alleviate pains in loneliness.
You see, love often adorns more homage in loneliness.
Loneliness…………………..
When a war ends,
It becomes time to return for soldiers in loneliness;
and we all mourn in loneliness.
Then we realize what peace is!
One day we all have to say the world ‘good bye’ in loneliness.
Yes, loneliness ……….

poem by Bibhakar Dutta
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Spring Plowing

Deeply furrowed,
the wide field
lies in muddy chaos.

Smell the sweet clay
as it fills this cloudy spring day.

Earth’s dark womb
lies bare.
Gleaming plow,
efficient engine
sunder black skin of soil
to plant the seed
deep
beneath the future.

See how it will be.

On a warm, summer’s morn
static breast
will rise with deeper breath,

and muddy death
give way
to ascendant, golden day

poem by Steven Federle
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The River

When my wife died I used to walk alone by the river,
but I don’t go near there any more.
Lost souls who had drowned used to speak to me
of the lives they had once before.

Every time I went they asked me to enter the water,
‘It will clear your mind, ’ they said.
I told them that I had never learned how to swim
and drowning is the only thing I dread.

One early morning I was walking along the river-bank
and the bank collapsed beneath my feet.
I found myself being swept along by the raging current
and saw my wife drowning in the deep.

Several of the dead I used to talk with held me under,
my breath expired and I just sank.
My wife pulled me up from the river’s depths
and a fisherman revived me on the bank.

poem by Orlando Belo
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A Temple Is Not A Temple Of Selfishness

this is my body
this is my temple
this is where my spirit lives
in flesh and bones

this is my face
this is my skin
these are my feelings
these are my hopes and aspirations

now touch me
now let your fingers run over my skin
let me feel you too
like i am no longer an island
a body of water
a river a sea where boats always sail away from me
where birds just pass and fly by
destined for another place to another shore to another bush

this is my body this is desire this is hunger and thirst and longing
feed me with your body
satisfy my thirst
fill my longings with your longings too

let your river chain my body
let your sea fill my land let your skies be above to wrap me
to shelter me to fill me also with more stars and moons and suns

let me not be all alone like a space without anything without a flicker
let me become a universe glowing and hushing and lushing with life

this is my body this is your body too
let us breathe let us touch let us push through

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Dreamy River

There's a dreamy river flowing
Down the street from my house
I walk down there after work
But I paddle my way home

There's a dreamy river flowing
On every street corner in the world
And if that young moon is in the sky
She'll wink at you and let you pass by

There's a dreamy river flowing
From my refrigerator into my mouth
It only costs a few dollars
To keep those shelves stocked

There's a dreamy river flowing
From my mouth into my gut
There's a dreamy river flowing
From my wank into the street
There's a dreamy river flowing
In my mind as I lay to sleep

There's a dreamy river flowing
From a town I've never been to
Across this great country
And also from overseas
Sometimes from people's kitchens
Transversing time and space
I float down this river
Every night and day

There's a dreamy river flowing
From the hops and the malts and sugar
I call it my brother, I call it my wife
I call it my true friend

Let me float upon you dreamy river
And drown all these sorrows
That call to me from pasts I've severed

poem by Spencer Breau
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Black Muddy River

When the last rose of summer pricks my finger,
And the hot sun chills me to the bone,
When I cant hear the song for the singer,
And I cant tell my pillow from a stone,
I will walk alone by the black muddy river,
And sing me a song of my own,
I will walk alone by the black muddy river,
And sing me a song of my own.
When the last bolt of sunshine hits the mountain,
And the stars start to splatter in the sky,
When the moon hits the southwest horizon,
With the scream of an eagle on the fly,
I will walk alone by the black muddy river,
And listen to the ripples as they moan,
I will walk alone by the black muddy river,
And sing me a song of my own.
Black muddy river, roll on forever,
I dont care how deep or wide, if youve got another side,
Roll muddy river, roll muddy river, black muddy river, roll.
When it seems like the night will last forever,
And theres nothing left to do but count the years,
When the strings of my heart begin to sever,
And stones fall from my eyes instead of tears,
I will walk alone, by the black muddy river,
And dream me a dream of my own,
I will walk alone, by the black muddy river,
And sing me a song of my own, sing me a song of my own.

song performed by by Grateful Dead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Niambo

You're a wind that passed by
Gentle to the skin; playful to the hair
Touch a shoulder; dry a tear
Ease a sorrow then you fly

You're a calm river carrying a dream
From stream to distant mountain, all seem
Palpable to reach; inspirable to attain

You're a song, a music no one dislikes
The lyrics and tunes regardless of voice
You're played, sung, or even hummed,

You're anything for anybody's aspiration
A place of one's wish, in a desert or plain
You're the sky where all my longings lie

You're a shadow of truth and fiction
An art of illusionist's abstraction
Now judged by many interpretations

You're a house, a home of my soul
A room of my heart, a door of my mind
A keeper of my feelings, so here you hear
Me and you or you and I…all in one

poem by Efren Petalver Carranza
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A Shoulder I Need

Need I nothing but a shoulder to prop,
To place upon my head, the tears to shed.
The tormenting existence, worries of life,
The cruel pangs of the heart are resolved,
To crumble, crush my soul, my existence.
And at these moment of plight you reside,
Far away in the distant, remote world.

Need I nothing but a shoulder to prop,
To place upon my head, the tears to shed.
I am agonized for I had been deprived of,
Nourishing, sustaining food love yesterday,
I am pained for loneliness stings me today.
I stand at the dismal spot helpless, forlorn,
Neither there is any comfort to rehabilitate,
The drab, deserted land, valley of the heart;
Nor anyone has remedy of my misfortunes.

Need I nothing but a shoulder to prop,
To place upon my head, the tears to shed.
No one has time to listen to the tales of miseries,
No eye possesses tears to mourn on my doom,
Those whom I loved more than my soul, my life,
Have lined up in the long row of the enemies,
Those whom I regarded my own averted the eyes.

Need I nothing but a shoulder to prop,
To place upon my head, the tears to shed.
I have concealed in eyelids my unloosened tears,
Whenever I get a chance, I shall bring along,
The lustrous gems to scatter at your feet,
While kissing with lips, caressing with cheeks.
Oh! Sweet my mild mother at present,
Need I nothing but a shoulder to prop,
To place upon my head, the tears to shed.

poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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My First Boyfriend

My first Boyfriend
was Stanley Gardner
whomI met in kindy
all thirty long years ago.
He wore silver braces
and thick jam jar glasses
whereas I had buck teeth
That jutted out a mile
and a mop of frizzy hair
but he declared his love for me
by sharing his vegemite sandwich
and orange juice popper
in the sandpit,
in the middle of the oval
And now 30 years on I meet him again
with his wife and child
He has the straightest of teeth
and sans hair and glasses
And me with straightened hair
And perfect teeth
courtesy of my cosmetic teeth makeover!
And my orthodontist

poem by Kaci Tami
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Literary Tongue

at first i like the hands
those huge hands to cover the whole of my cold body
and then i begin to like the fingers
those that crawl and make my body warm
those that fill the orifice of my emptiness
those that caress my hair
and travel from my nose to my mouth
to my neck to the last tip of my toes
and then i like the mouth too
with its tongue that speak about gentleness
and make me a little bit heated
and brave
and then i am finally stuck with the tongue
the surrogate part of of them all
it speaks
it licks
it travels from the tip of my hair to the tip of my toe
and then it stops
hides inside the walls of my teeth and gums
and stay in the house of my mouth
it also knows
when to stop and just be alone and silent

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Lonely Woman And The Man Who Predicted His Own Death

The lonely woman
took a liter of costly perfumed oil
made from genuine aromatic nard

and anointed his feet and
dried them with her hair;
the house was filled
with the fragrance of the oil

If you are with me
Then you will know at once
who the woman was
for whom
we identify our own
loneliness
who the man was
who died for all of us
nailed feet
bloodied hair

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Jesse James

When Jesse James was a lad
He killed many a man
And he roamed over the Scarsdale range
Robbin' from the rich
And givin' to the poor
He was dark and cold and full of rage
Oh yes he was, sing with me
Poor Jesse had a wife
To mourn for his life
And three children
They were oh so brave
But that dirty little coward
He went and shot Mr. Howard
Laid poor Jesse in his grave yeah
It was on a Saturday night
When Jesse was at home
Talking to old railroad Jed
Along come Robert Ford
Like a theif in the night
And he shot poor Jesse in the back
Poor Jesse had a wife
To mourn for his life
Three children
They were oh so brave
But that dirty little coward
He went and shot Mr. Howard
Laid poor Jesse in his grave yeah
He lays
Six feet under the ground

song performed by by Bob Seger
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Loneliness

Roy orbison/joe melson
Loneliness is the worst thing in the world
To be alone all the day long
No ring on the phone, yeah this is wrong
Low down loneliness
This loneliness, I must confess
Yes its a mess of this loneliness
Low down loneliness, loneliness all around
Loneliness, you have found me loneliness
Oh loneliness, all of the time
Such loneliness, youre so unkind
Low down loneliness
Loneliness everywhere
Loneliness, Ive got more that my share
Oh loneliness, my destiny
Yeah loneliness, was I born to be
In low down loneliness? loneliness

song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Handsome Man

i am a handsome face
long black hair
aquiline nose
slim body
kissable lips
sharp eyes
white teeth
smooth brown skin
lean and muscular body

i promise you nothing
i have no time
and i do not know what
love is
i am the vagabond of
this earth
a wanderer of its bosom
no one owns me
and i own no one.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Image

The girl in the mirror stared back at me.
Unflinching.
Eyes blood shot.
Cheeks stained with tears and sweat.
Her hands dangled weakly, swollen
and splattered with blood.
Matted hair sprung from her head and the black circles
made her eyes seem all the more sunken. Desperate.
She was small. Shriveled.
All hope sucked from her soul and left a scar
across her gray face like a tree branch
reaching for the sun but anchored by the abandoned
body of a young girl whose heart
had long ago stopped beating.
the fallen soldier of a country whose world
had fought against it. A country of Purity.
And this girl raised a cut and bruised arm
and lifted the mask from her face. Hesitantly.
The scars faded.
They left tiny white lines on my arms and face.
And my eyes cleared;
Hope glistening from them
and making my skin glow.
My hair curled softly.
My hands healed and were cleansed.
A slight pink stain rested on my fingers
My flesh was watered back to life.
And I smiled.
A weak, crooked sort of smile.
My teeth were not in their places
and a few were chipped,
but I loved the sight of that broken grin.

poem by Zoe Guillory
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My Best Friend...... Lonliness

My best friend loneliness,
do never leave me in a mess.
I have looked up to you ever since I was a kid,
may it be day or nights mid.

you have always been there for me,
and you never asked me for any fee.
many other in the journey of life came along,
but couldn't stick to me for very long.

thanks to you dear,
for being with me without any fear.
all said I am perfect except for one,
and summing of those I find my faults to be a ton.

but you never complained,
to me a day you never hesitated to lend.
I could have done nothing,
if for every small obstacles motivation song you dint sing.

whenever I feared darkness you were there,
all the time to make me forget my fear.
whenever I needed a shoulder to cry,
to escape you never did try.

I always ignored you,
but friends like you in my life are very few.
no matters how many mistakes I did,
to me you were always there to feed.

I am happy to have you as a friend,
I would become very lonely if to me a farewell message you send...
who would be there with me den
for whom shall I lift the pen?

for whom shall I write?
for whom shall I fight?
my best friend loneliness,
do never leave me in a mess.

poem by Ajitav Basak
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How I Have Destroyed Myself...

last night
when i arrive home from work
i undress myself before a mirror
seeing a worn-out body
furrowed by
too much stress

who furrowed all these lines
who wrinkled all these previous tight skin
the smoothness gone
who whitened this hair
and created the ruffles in my fingers
undulating waves
in my thoughts
endlessly rocking my mind
to such exhaustion?

the mirror is cruelly silent and if it has only a mouth
and a tongue
it could have uttered and lashed me with

'You! '

slowly i swallowed the word
I

Time should have been a good companion
loyal to my endeavors
but i rushed it like a slave
and so it has
taken its own revenge

these furrows
funnels of my Frankensteins...

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Im Carrying

By dawns first light Ill come back to your room again
With my carnation hidden by the packages
Im carrying, something
Im carrying something for you
Ah, long time no see baby sure has been a while
And if my reappearance lacks a sense of style
Im carrying, something
Im carrying something for you
Im carrying.
Im carrying, cant help it.
Im carrying.
Im carrying something for you.

song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The River, Grace

Lift me up,
Take me down
From my rack.
Suspended on meat hooks
Just under my shoulder blades,
The weight of me hangs.

The river comes to me.
The river flows on.

Grace wakes up,
Says, “I will watch with you
We will be watchers
Together.”

Take me down.
Let the river run
Through my wounds;
Cleanse;
Heal.

The river comes.
The river flows.

Wash out all the refuse;
Toxic trash flushed away
Forever from me
Clear
Free

The river comes.
The river flows.

Fill me up with goodness.
Purity, rush into these holes;
Saturate in light, then
Stop up the access,
Make me whole.

River, come to me.
River, flow on.

And the river is God’s Gift.
And the river is Grace.
Lay me new baptized
In the tall grass
On the bank
Let me hear
Talking light
Beat back the night.

They sing of your source,
Your redemption renowned.
Now I join the chorus.

And the river, God’s gift,
Lift me up.
And the river, Grace
Carry me on.

poem by Lee Ann Schaffer
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Only Then....

always from within
shall we make a beginning
we are like
the vacuoles of the cells
on an inner struggle
to fill in the gaps of
our anonymous existence

always from within
shall be start to grow
the heart
the intestinal spasms
the push outwards
to find the sun and take
in back
the air inside our lungs

we are always from the
stem
cells protruding
to have roots and become
the tree and
have leaves and have fruits
only then
can we say we belong to the world
only then can we say
we are us.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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