Denial Too Is An Art
denial too is an art
and with the complications of time
sophistication also comes
glittering and
throwing some questions
sometimes without
answers
that is the challenge
silence sits aside outmoded
the new models of denial and
refusal dressed in the latest creations
of fashion and color and texture
come parading
like scanty clad ladies with mouths
pouting for options
there is this man walking in reverse
and you will have a hard time to guess
what is he apt to?
and there is this woman that keeps on
going like a white swan floating on the river
what is her point?
the pond with pink lilies is too placid
and the philosopher sits beside a big gray stone
thinking
the koi comes up with some news
about the decaying moss and the foul water
spotted beauty
the clouds are heavy in the skies
and rain shall soon pour like wisdom
the earth asks you: who are you?
you shrug you shoulders and then gently you must go
to where? and when? you tell the earth you do not really know.
i like your art. The art of not knowing. It is where the flowers grow.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
Blending With The Sky Again
clouds colored black
Rising from the earth
Floating on red skies
The sun Is gray
Rectangular to the
Earth shaped like
An ovum
A splash in the sea
Like an inverted comma
He is Icarus
He just drowned
They do not think
It is me
The sea is not green
It is blacker than black
I am trying to be
Off-white for you
To see.
But you can’t
You did not try
Thinking hard enough.
You have no time
For this
For me
Or anything else.
Sometimes I think
I should have
Grown myself
As the suicide bomber
And then explode
Inside you.
Perhaps you
Will notice me
Finally.
My
Color must not
Be red.
I may
Blend with the
Red sky again.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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As You Feel The Pain At The Side Of Your Abdomen
i see what you are seeing, you are always telling me.
your fingers feel the pain. your eyes speak.
you take a little time. taking a look at the side of things.
you see some worms. a dead dog. a rat rotting on the road.
the rain has come for days. flood runs.
the sun comes. everything dries up.
the flowers wilt. this time you rise from your bed
to be alive for once.
you see ghosts. i see them too.
white ghosts floating on the window railings.
i call them clouds. outbursts of light.
the moon. and that stars.
denial. the images of denial come like some petals
of rain. red petals. orange leaves.
they come to you like naked children.
they grow to be men, naked men, these truths, they are like
the ten sculptures of david.
denial. you are talking of something else.
it is not pain. it is happiness. you like more of it.
yet the irony is, you are about to leave. the black car is waiting.
and they are ready with their dresses and flowers and prayers.
just as life has become beautiful
the end of the story comes. happy ending.
that is what you want. happy.
ending. sometimes, i feel so disgusted, why the young
useful and well-loved people always have to leave
there was no time enough to really meet them.
i am crying.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I May Blend With The Red Sky Again
clouds colored black
Rising from the earth
Floating on red skies
The sun Is gray
Rectangular to the
Earth shaped like
An ovum
a sensate object
splashes in the sea
Like an inverted comma
He is Icarus
He just drowned
They do not think
It is I
The sea is not green
It is black
I am trying to be
Off-white
for you
To see
But you can’t
You did not try
seeing hard enough.
You have no time
For this
For me
Or anything else.
Sometimes I think
I should have
Grown myself
into a suicide bomber
And then explode
Inside you.
Perhaps you
Will notice me
Finally.
My
Color must not
Be red.
I may
Blend with the
Red sky again.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To Be Red
i may blend with the red sky again
clouds colored black
Rising from the earth
Floating on red skies
The sun Is gray
Rectangular to the
Earth shaped like
An ovum
a sensate object
splashes in the sea
Like an inverted comma
He is Icarus
He just drowned
They do not think
It is I
The sea is not green
It is black
I am trying to be
Off-white
for you
To see
But you can’t
You did not try
seeing hard enough.
You have no time
For this
For me
Or anything else.
Sometimes I think
I should have
Grown myself
into a suicide bomber
And then explode
Inside you.
Perhaps you
Will notice me
Finally.
My
Color must not
Be red.
I may
Blend with the
Red sky again.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Swan ~ A Villanelle
Floating upon the crystal pond
She kept wearing her diamond crown
While the other white swan was gone
Never doubting their fierce loving bond
As the leaves went from reddish to brown
Floating upon the crystal pond
Her blue eyes searching far beyond
Couldn't see that he'd recently drowned
While the other white swan was gone
So curling, becoming withdrawn
When ten suns in the sky settled down
Floating upon the crystal pond
She talked to the geese that were blond
And asked where he was with a frown
While the other white swan was gone
They cared not and didn't respond
In the reeds was a kings golden crown
Floating upon the crystal pond
While the other white swan was gone
poem by Sara Fielder
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The moss that loves the stone
It is the moss that loves the stone
Most. No matter what or when, the
Moss somehow manages to stay
Even without a why, they say.
But the moss keeps on sticking
To the body of the stone that
Keeps its nonminding stiffness.
It is cold, it is hard, it is unfeeling
At all. It is the moss that keeps its
Love. It sticks with it, rain or shine.
It rolls with it. It stays with it even
In the desert, even it if means its
Own death. It is the moss that sticks
To the stone. It is its true lover.
In the river, the water has ordered
The moss to leave. It ordered the stone
To crush it. The moss cannot be
Removed. It covered the stone.
It is loving it whole.The stone has
Become the moss, and the stone
Is gone.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Stone
how is it to be a stone?
how is it to be hard
and unfeeling?
how is it to be still
and immobile
rooted in
its place for years
and centuries
not growing
not speaking not listening
to the songs and sighs
of the river?
how is it to be completely
defenseless against
the moss
that invades and
covers
your body
of stone
the coldness
of the rain and
the boredom of the time
in years, in centuries?
how is it to be just being
inanimate
unmoved
untouched and
untouching?
you
you touch no one and nobody touches you
an island
of stone
you
are the stone
the rock
against
the middle
of the raging river
and i am asking all these questions to you.
oh! i am always the foolish one
petrified
facing you all day and getting
no answers
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Defiant Pattern
you feel betrayed
sometimes
stones like us
some
have turned into birds
behold the clouds
they were once
like us
too
the dropp of rain
comes to you in a dream as
an ocean
black turns gold before
your eyes
the jinx has become
famous Lady Luck
you ask so many questions
they get mad
you get punished for
such a
philosophical misbehavior
defiant pattern
bad to see and must not be
published
you feel betrayed
by a storm of biases
there is no place for you
and so
you do not turn into a bird
or cloud
or ocean
you remain as stone
deep under
you live in silence
apart from the world of birds
and skies
and oceans
you are stone
perfect in your silence
undiscovered gem
how will you ever
discover that stone in you
glittering in silence
depths of black
strata of wisdom
no one knows
they have taken nothing
from you
you have buried your mouth
and eyes
and ears in that blackness of
your chosen silence
defiant pattern
beautiful secret underneath
the
earth of layers of
silence
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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To Gather Moss And More Of Moss
to gather moss
be a stone
to gather more moss
be a very still stone
be a stone still till the end
of time
you stand still and think
you want to be the moss
rather than a stone
to be all moss
you must betray the stillness
of stone
you must even forget
the importance of
what a moss can be
then you think some more
to be completely this moss
you need to be friendly
to the water and to the river
then you decide to be the water
instead of the moss
to be more than the water
you wish instead to become the river
and so you flow and learn the rush
and become the running river
until what you want really
is just to flow
to rush and run and then
you become nothing
but the motion itself
until you are lost
and then
you become what you are now
lost but real
always flowing, rushing, running
where nobody owns you
not even the river
or the stones or the moss
you have become
this running, this flowing, this being
so real so free
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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River Lilies
Saw a boy three lilies white,
Lilies in the river,
Half heart-open to the light,
Full of golden arrows bright,
Each a silver quiver.
Lilies, lilies, lilies white,
Lilies in the river.
Said the boy, “I’ll pluck you there,
Lilies in the river!”
Said the lilies, “If you dare
You shall drown, or homeward fare
Dripping and a-shiver!”
Lilies, lilies, lilies white,
Lilies in the river.
Wilful still the boy would clasp
Lilies in the river;
Tumbled in ere he could grasp,
Scrambled out with puff and gasp,
Plucked no lilies ever.
Lilies, lilies, lilies white,
Lilies in the river.
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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The River Flows
The river flows and moss grows
And I dangle my feet in the water
The water is cold, but so is my heart
As I sit and just watch time goes by
No place I have to go, no place to be
Time has passed too fast, as fast as the river flows
Who else has sat here and felt this way
Felt pain in their heart and soul
They don't understand, did they ever?
All the hurt down deep in my soul
The leaves sway with the wind
And the chill sets in
I know I must leave, I don't know where
Guess I'll find my way down the road
With tears in my eyes and a broken heart
I'll find my way back to somewhere
The river flows on and the moss will keep growing
Till someone else sits here
And remembers things like I do
And wish I had them all back
I leave in the night, goodbye to the river and moss
May each persons who comes this way
Find a peace inside like I did but on the way
I'll always remember that the river flows on and the moss grows.
Written by Jo Carey
The Last Flight
there is always a reason why a man cannot
cease writing
there is that denial of what was there a long time ago
it sits there like a statue
beside the door of the house
where the window is always closed
there is always a reason why the words keep flowing
like a river
why the river is always filled with running water
despite the drought
you see the bones of cows
the dust of the sands in the desert
it was once an oasis
where date palms abound where women bathe
with their men
where they make love
under the crescent moon
there is always a reason that you know
but you do not tell
but which i will always deny
as truth
it is this denial that keeps my hands going
like soldiers ready for a kill in that theater of war
it is this roaring lion that does not bite
that keeps me
in fear that keeps me speaking inside myself
there is no one here
there is no wall anymore
the winds are waiting with all the wings of the dead birds
it is ready
i am undressing
this is the flight.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Heavy Weather
(michael sembello)
In the news today
Heavy weather
Oh, I can remember
The skies were so blue
That lucky old moon I promised to you
Now its gone lately
Somethings happening
I dont understand
Oh, how come decembers
Are hotter that june?
And how come the flowers
Dont know when to bloom?
Somethings wrong, people
Somethings happening
Happening where we live
The rising smoke against an endless sea of cars
As mother nature gets another senseless scar
In the news today
I guess were in for heavy weather
In the world today
Were heading for some heavy weather
The rain is falling harder each day
The faces keep changing
But the problem remains
Somethings wrong, people
Right before our eyes
Weve been hypnotized
The sound of silence
Broken by the sound of war
How can we heal
If we keep opening up the sore?
In the news today
I guess were in for heavy weather
In the world today
Were heading for some heavy weather
Will we ever hear the message?
Read the signs?
Stop all this talking now
Its time to save our lives
In the news today
I guess were in for heavy weather
In the world today
Were heading for some heavy...
The road ahead keeps leading back again
The train were on is coming to an end
Lets open up our eyes
In the world today
Were heading for some heavy weather
In the news today
I guess were in for heavy weather
In the news today
I guess were in for heavy weather
song performed by by Diana Ross
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Color Blind
Everyday seemed to be rainy,
I just woke up to see the gray clouds on my window,
the birds didn't illuminate my mornings with their beautiful melody anymore,
I couldn't see more colors than black gray and white.
One day I woke up after having a colorful dream,
I could see more than gray,
I realized I was a color blind before,
because I noticed that after that rain and clouds,
there has always been a rainbow for me,
so I was color blind not to notice that colorful rainbow before,
but, they say that you can't see a rainbow without rain
My rain was just a wall not to see that beautiful rainbow,
now it has dissappeared,
I'm not a color blind anymore,
Now standing in front of my window,
I can see a bautiful bird red and blue looking for flowers,
Flowers violet and pink standing on the ground,
the beautiful green of trees and plants,
and the splendid blue of my new sky,
one of them I can't name it,
is so unique so special,
I think I'll call it...
Love....
poem by Ana Lia Zaldivar
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Lyric four bulls
Woman walked in forest alone
Met man
Man aroused appetite for her
Man ran and knocked his head on tree
Tail grew out
Hairy jaw grew in mouth
Hind legs grew
Man metamorphosed because was
Lion cannibal
Tried to attack man
Woman asked cannibal
‘’where’re your four
red and white bulls’’
‘’Do you know them’’
‘’Yes, you sing their
Oldest lyric’’
Cannibal laughed
In hoarse voice
Sang,
‘’One red and white spotted bull is sold
One red and white bull spotted is stolen
One red and white spotted bull is swallowed
One red and white spotted bull is scattered
On earth, scattered on earth, on earth, on earth……………….., cannibal sang tune of ‘’scattered on earth’’ happily for long and until
He napped and woman disappeared.
poem by David Aoloch Bion
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A Spotted Frog (The Politician)
There he sits
A spotted frog
He grins from ear to ear
Waterbugs quake across the
Pond's surface
The spotted frog sits
Stone-still on his perch
Silently stalking a humming dragonfly
His eyes shimmer
His mouth waters
His tounge is itching to snap out
And snatch the poor bug's life
His prey draws closer to his
Invisible enemy
All of the sudden
The urge is too strong to contain
His tounge snaps
The dragonfly silently flaps his last
Wingspan, breathes his last breath
The frog has devoured the innocent
Creature
There he sits
A spotted frog
Silently stalking another dragonfly
The urge to hurt and devour
Too strong to subdue
poem by Shannon Hughes
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Cleopatra, Queen Of Denial
(pam tillis/bob dipiero/jan buckingham)
(track 7 - time 3:13)
Well I said he had a lot of potential
He was only misunderstood
You know he didnt really mean to treat me so bad
He wanted to be good
And I swore one day I would tame him
Even though he loved to run hog wild
Just call me cleopatra everybody, cause Im the queen of denial
I knew he didnt have any money
Yeah thats why he couldnt buy me a ring
Oh and just because he bought himself a brand new pickup truck
Really didnt prove anything
And he never had to say he loved me
I could see it every time he smiled
Just call me cleopatra everybody, cause Im the queen of denial
Oh queen of denial, buyin all his alibis
Queen of denial, floatin down a river of lies
Well Im not gonna jump to conclusions
Or throw away this perfect romance
Even though I caught him dancin last night
With a girl in a leopard skin pants
Yeah, hes probably stuck in traffic
And hell be here in a litte while
Just call me cleopatra everybody, cause Im the queen of denial
Oh queen of denial, buyin all his alibis
Queen of denial, just floatin down a river of lies
song performed by by Pam Tillis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sometimes it’s as if my childhood days comes back
Sometimes it’s as if my childhood days
comes back to me unexpectedly
where the sheer beauty of things astounds me,
water that lies glistening in a river
how water reflects my face and in wrinkles disguises it
the smell of wild flowers hanging sweet in the air
and the colour and texture catching me
as if I am walking in an overgrown garden
full of singing birds
where I see clouds spread like flakes
covering the bright blue in little pieces
with spots of blue between the white
and it is as if for short moments I can return
to a place and time
full of joy and jolliness
poem by Gert Strydom
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A Neighbor
you live in the clouds
below all these drifters
are the stones
flowers of the earth
children of the
chipped cliffs
we are the progeny
of the rocks
from our cracks
waters flow
thirsts are quenched
and strangers
spread the news about
us: from our hardness
and painless existence
comes out
the softness and kindness
of the waters
of this earth
you shift and gather
somewhere
soundlessly
looking down upon us
in the hardness of
our silenced
existence
you predict weathers
you tell us you own the rain
and the sun
we look forward
adapt to the changes
for one thing
we do not drift and gather
somewhere
still asking for the
correct directions
we are blind
and so we know what is within us
we have no other option
we are the stones
we ask no more
about those questions
neither do we keep those answers
we are here
we do not move
we do not blink
we welcome the moss
we are never tossed....
neighbor cloud
nebulous, oh how infamous
now, tumultuous
fatuous...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Rain Drops
Here comes the grey clouds
rolling in,
Spreading rain all over the
town.
Rain drops help to moisten
the earth's beautiful green
grass.
Sidewalks once dusty are
washed and cleaned.
Rivers and lakes are given
plenty more water.
Fishes swim around happy
beneath the rain drops,
creating millions of ripples
upon the water.
Flowers and plants no longer
Thirst,
Even trees and bushes seem
to dance after a good drink
of water,
Animals get their fill of
water too.
Just Like a shower,
Rain drops clean and
cleanse everything,
Leaving the earth refreshed
and renewed.
After the storm has passed,
The sun shines spreading its
warmth.
Rain drops that are left behind
on Flowers, plants, trees and
grass,
It is like heaven for many insects
to fill their thirsty little
mouths.
Without clouds we would have no
rain drops,
Without rain drops everything would
never be the same.
poem by Derek James
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