Childhood In The Village....
early morning
after the night's storm
i gather the
ripe guavas from
the uprooted
tree
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Bunch Of Ripe Guavas
on a basket
is a bunch of
ripe guavas
the birds
early this morning
shall be
envious about us
every fruit
is love waiting
to be slowly chewed
savored and
swallowed
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Early In The Morning
Early in the morning and I cant get right
Had a little date with my baby last night
Now its early in the morning (early in the morning)
Well its early in the morning (early in the morning)
Now its early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
Went to all the places where we used to go
Went to your house but you dont live there no more
Now its early in the morning (early in the morning)
Well its early in the morning (early in the morning)
Early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
Went to your friends house but she was out
Knock on your fathers door and he began to shout get out there boy
Early in the morning (early in the morning)
Early in the morning (early in the morning)
Early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
Went to doogie chain to get something to eat
Waiter looked at me and said you sure look beat
Now its early in the morning (early in the morning)
Early in the morning (early in the morning)
Well its early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
Well its early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
Well its early in the morning
And I aint got nothing but the blues
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Scenes.....
the night is
a mannequin
and we are
the recent
harlequins
in the room
the night is
no longer a mystery
it is colder
and the lights are not
turned off
because of fear
dimmer
like promises
the floor is silent
like the carpets
the dusts invade
like a catacomb
ambient
the scenes outside
are horrible
dead birds hanging
themselves
on the twigs of
a fungal tree
nevertheless
a bunch of ripe guavas
wait still
to be picked by some
hands of the
boys.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Those Ripe Guavas
do not be sad today
when you wake up
open your window first
and see
those ripe guavas
hanging on the branch
of that tree
that your mother
once planted
in front of the house...
it is only when you remember (mother)
that you begin to forget (misery) ...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Early Morning
(pal waaktaar/ mags)
Early morning
Eight oclock precise
I see the lonely august sun arise
Say you know
You will
Move me like you do
Out on the fields...
Im waiting the whole night through
Early morning, early morning, yeah
Ran the whole way
Down to the tracks
Through the doorway, then a last look back
Say you know
You will
Save me like you do
Out on the fields...
Ive waited the whole night through
Early morning, early morning, yeah
I climbed all the stairways
To find the rooftop clear
Got the shotgun lying with me here
Say you know
You will
Move me like you do
Out on the fields...
You know how it feels, yeah
Early morning, early morning, yeah
Early morning
Eight oclock precise
song performed by by A-Ha
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Early Christmas Morning
Listen to the children sing
Watch them dancing all around the Christmas tree
Waiting for the opening
Early Christmas morning
All around the world is sleeping
Little children there's no peeping
Wait and see what Santa's bringing
Early Christmas morning
Early Christmas morning
Icicles and breakfast cakes
Friends and family we will celebrate
Sounds that joy and laughter make
Early Christmas morning
All around and far off places
Angels waken smiling faces
Wrapping us with love and graces
Early Christmas morning
Early Christmas morning
song performed by by Cyndi Lauper from Merry Christmas... Have A Nice Life
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Even For The Meantime....
in this world of chaos
where brother kills brother
where buses are bombed
and innocent civilians killed in numbers
i take refuge on a chair beside the window of my house
still awed by those ripe guavas hanging on the tree
fronting me,
fresh air from the sea, silence from the meadows,
self in isolation, a retreat from the street,
evils in society temporarily forgotten
we need this sometimes
even for the meantime.....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Simple Blessing
3 p.m. we sit on a chair
the table has a tray of ripe guavas
four slices of toasted sandwich
two cups of coffee with cream
italian pasta and a nice conversation
lasting for a hour or more
the air from the sea blows and
refreshes our bodies and then
we try your new salad combination:
buco and durian chilled last night.
we gaze upon the passing of 12 years.
nothing changed.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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After The Bombing Incident
AFTER the bombing incident last night
at the church of San Pedro
tiny shreds of flesh hang on the walls
and ceiling of the confinement.
the cries are not prolonged except the
sounds of ambulance
and the military jeeps
to and fro the city gates
sleep was denied, and then that early morning
i opened the window
i saw this little blue bird perched on the guava tree
it was singing a very sad song beside a bunch
of ripe guava fruits.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Blue Jay
Tell me of the 'Blue Jay'
who sings from tree to tree in the early hours of the morning.
Has he found his nest and mate well hidden amongst the hanging Moss?
On what Oak tree lies his precious treasure,
his hearts and ever needing desire?
Across the pond close to the waters edge
the Ducks family celebrate Water, Fire and Earth.
Readying for their Sunday walk through Avalon.
Duck~feet firmly on the Earth clutching nail~down into an unbreakable pace, they march one by one making most of time and space...
BLUEJAY lost amidst desire wanders now from tree to tree,
misplace and forgotten by the nights heavy storm....
Tell me!
Tell me of the dreary song of lost souls in morning sun,
are they of the Blue Jay or of your own heart?
Are you home smiling to the stars or on a collision course with desire?
Is getting hot outside but where is home with Moss on every tree and Duck's all around?
poem by Gengis Capote
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Early Morning Breeze
I open up my door to greet the early morning sun
Closing it behind me and away I do run
To the meadow where the meadow lark is singing in the tree
In the meadow I go walking in the early morning breeze
I cup my hands to catch a multi-colored butterfly
Perched upon the petals of flowers growing wild
Freeing it I watch it as it flies away from me
To visit with the flowers in the early morning breeze
Chorus:
Rainbow colored flowers kissed with early morning sun
The aster and the dahlia and wild geraniums
Drops of morning due still linger on the iris leaves
In the meadow where Im walking in the early morning breeze
Misty-eyed I look about the meadow where I stray
For its there I find the courage to greet the coming day
For there among the flowers I kneel gently to my knees
To have a word with God in the early mornig breeze
2nd chorus:
A rainbow colored meadow kissed with early morning sun
The aster and the dahlia and wild geraniums
Drops of morning due still linger on the iris leaves
In the meadow where Im walking in the early morning breez
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Early Mornin'
Early mornin'
All right, I was out real late last night
Got a little messy
Early morning
Can't be like that anymore, oh
I was shaking my ass in the streets this morning
Just walked in and it's early morning
Bump, bump till the break of dawn and
It don't stop till the early morning
Passed out on the couch I'm yawning
Just walked in and it's early morning
Bump, bump till the break of dawn and
It don't stop till the early morning
Wanna talk to
When he walked up someone grabbed him
But I liked him to come here
Kinda cool
Baby, we can make plans
Where ya live
Does your mama live there
We can hook up at the hotel
Hands down so
I told him, let's go
But waht happened next, guess?
But you don't wanna know
I was shaking my ass in the streets this morning
Just walked in and it's early morning
Bump, bump till the break of dawn and
It don't stop till the early morning
Passed out on the couch I'm yawning
Just walked in and it's early morning
Bump, bump till the break of dawn and
It don't stop till the early morning
Oh, in love
So I approached him
We gotta give him his friends
There's something bout him that show
So I said, what the hell
Let's go
Got up, got on the dance floor
Hooked up with a guy named Joe
When the music was fast and slow
But waht happened next, guess?
But you don't wanna know
I was shaking my ass in the streets this morning
Just walked in and it's early morning
Bump, bump till the break of dawn and
It don't stop till the early morning
Passed out on the couch I'm yawning
Just walked in and it's early morning
Bump, b
song performed by by Britney Spears
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Tree's Devil
The tree, how it sits
so still in the ground.
It is its homeplace,
forever it stays there,
unless it is rudely uprooted.
It's branches slowly sway
to and from with the soft breeze.
Soon, night will come
and with it it will bring
the devils wind.
It will howl and whine
threw the tree's limbs,
and the tree will anger
and slash its branches out,
trying to stop the dreadful wind.
poem by Alison Miotke
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The Tree And The Branch
the tree looks
upon a branch
where a ripe
fruit is hanging
the tree says
it is mine
the branch say
i am holding it
the tree says
the branch too
belongs to it
angry about the
tree's greed
the branch lets go off
the ripe fruit
a hungry child
picks it up
and goes home
with a happy heart
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Typhoon Last Night
the typhoon last night
was devastating
it was strong and prolonged
the roof almost gave way
the windows about to be flown away
the floors shook
and the walls about to break
we hug for comfort
we prayed together
and curled together
we intertwined like vines
on the tree
that morning after
i am thinking about our intimacy
tested by storm and darkness
and i say to myself, perhaps i need
another storm for proof
i still could not believe how we made it
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Outside And Inside
this early morning
the rains are raging
outside is a rampage of
blown leaves and trees
you are afraid may
finally be uprooted
in the room
the brown dog sleeps
beside a wooden wall
on the floor
the glass doors
& windows are closed
the silence reigns
inside you begin
on another journey
you began last night
on some short breaths
until you think
you had a nice sleep
inside there is something
that rages
it is not the wind or the rain
it is something else
that you want to know
more & more
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Dropping By Your House This Morning
i dropped by your house this very early morning
the windows are closed
but the door is half-open
and i could have given in to this little curiosity
that cats keep on their paws
and soft feet
or hands if you may
but i didn't. there is something in the houe
that says
you had a bad day and that night you did not have
a sound sleep
the roses are wilting and a flower pot falls on the ground
broken
the soil splashed like spilled water on the grass
there is no sound of the wind
from the storm last night
i just dropped by. I respect you. The door of the house
finally closed
i did not see the hands that closed it.
it maybe yours
or someone else's
the rug has spoken. You want to be alone.
to keep the faint light left
in that little room. the curtains fall. the lights
went off on that very early morning.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The View At The Top
it is 3000 steps from the
ground. You begin climbing
on an early morning
when the grass are still
rich with dew
and then the sun
starts to shine and then
the birds start to gather
the sweet sap of the
fruit with their
tiny, and long, black beaks
along the way.
it is not strange to see
a variety of colored
butterflies hovering
from one flower to
another. They too
gather the nectar
from the wildflowers
along the way.
you climb slowly
each cemented stair
of this old shrine
you tackle each
station of the cross
of this catholic rite.
finally at noon you
reach the top and
see the whole of the
city below.
a river winds like a
snake.It is the same river
that you pass seven times
before reaching the
ground of this peak.
you see the sea beyond
like a basin with still water.
you see boats like
floating petals of a
white flower, and those
biggers ones appear
to you like leaves
that had fallen to the ground.
you see clouds and clear skies
and you feel that up here
you are both king and god.
do not look down on this cliff
the feeling that everyone pulls down
your feet is still there.
you have felt it before in the office
where you are working and you
want to quit.
just like the butterfly that gathers
the nectars or the birds that gather
the sap of the ripe fruits
you come here to gather
your spirit. You want to be strong.
You want to be whole again.
You like to move on.
There is so much silence at the top.
There is no noise except the comforting silence of the wind.
There is so much to gather here.
Memories. Thoughts. Solitude. Peace.
Harmony. The unity of the universe in the
palm of your hand.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Early Morning Cold Taxi
3:36, its cold, I know Im growing old,
With lifes best side on the downward slope,
Its in my own hands, I know Ill cope,
My girls with me and all my friends can see.
Here I am again,
Early morning cold taxi.
Early morning cold taxi.
Done it before, do it again,
Know from experience its not in vain,
Shes the best Ive had, I cannot see, what someone else can do to me.
Its a long way home but loves so warm, youll see.
Here I am again,
Early morning cold taxi.
Early morning cold taxi.
Early morning cold taxi,
Each time I do it, I feel so down and out,
Early morning cold taxi,
though my mind thinks strange Ill keep on, no doubt.
3:36, its cold, I know Im growing old,
One day well be wed,
This I know for its what she said,
Then no more will my mind be uneasy.
Early morning cold taxi,
Each time I do it, I feel so down and out,
Early morning cold taxi,
though my mind thinks strange Ill keep on, no doubt.
3:36, its cold, I know Im growing old,
One day well be wed,
This I know for its what she said,
Then no more will my mind be uneasy.
Here I am again,
Early morning cold taxi.
Early morning cold taxi.
song performed by by Who
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Need For A New House....Or Home...
early morning
when the doors are still closed and the windows still tipsy
like the whole house
you fly away
the sun comes out with the clouds
early morning you fly away
away from it all
the clouds are floors and grasses
and you are a lonely bird among a flock of chairs
early morning you fly away
thinking about nothing
you fly away and you feel like a leaf inside
that gentle beast
it is a ride-awA Need For A New House....Or Home...ay
among the paradoxes of life
and its ironies
early morning there is this flight that takes you to a stop-over
of your life
no one knows that you are grieving
over a search for what you feel
the one you had which you lost
intentionally
among the flock of chairs landing early morning
on unstable floors
early morning you take a cab
you choose still
which house
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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