Desert Poem
we should have
asked
how the cactus decided
to grow
all the thorns around its
body
its long term
relationship with the desert
and the sun
its covenant with
the moon and stars
and the oasis
its kindness with
the camels and secrets
with Bedouins
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
Zeroing....
back to the desert
finding out that the only dater palm is dead
the oasis is gone
the caravan of camels and Bedouins
fade in the distance
the woman in silky veil
rides in her black horse
in the opposite direction
the howling sound of the night
shakes the full moon
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Some Questions To Himself
he suspects he must
have said something that
offends your
divine sense
for you have gone away
like a sigh
at night,
he thinks the mind of the
deep well, the only oasis
in your Sahara
what poisonous insect flew
over there
that rips the senses of the
fullness of the
water
on the other hand,
he justifies his decision to stop
thinking about the righteous
camel that walks the desert
with the Bedouins
there is more beauty to the moon
now that he is alone
whispering nothings to the distant stars
dreaming about the sea
wondering if the starfish is still there
trysting with the
urchins.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Camels And Donkeys
Camels have played their parts in the desert banks,
For the human traffic had been moblised with the help of the camels;
And of many years gone by on the desert rods to transport itwms,
With casting shadows on thier various tracks as they move along.
Now or never,
Mankind had made used of the camels for long!
And like a camel ride at the tourist centres in Egypt,
So be my guest on the desert zones of Africa! !
I have never seen anything like this before,
But with their fellow mates as the donkeys to help them along at times;
For the monkeys at your homes are always ready to play!
Camels and donkeys,
Used from old and to the present time;
And like a picturesque speech to evaluate yourself,
But long in a queue from sunrise to sunset as they move along with heavy loads! !
Camels and donkeys,
Feed them enough and they will do their works;
For the load carriers have nothing to say,
And they are the best animals around to help transport heavy loads along the desert routes.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The Tears in Desert
Once upon a time in a desert,
There was a camel and an oasis,
Large terrain, scorpions, rattlesnakes, cruel sun and cactus,
Camel galloped its way through the painful elements,
May be this was less,
Qabilas and Pathans used it,
Bruised it,
Work done; Bye bye,
Beautiful motives to use it,
Tears filled its eyes but sun evaporated them all,
No one cared so on its knees,
Still working its way towards oasis,
But not getting it right,
Do you know who camel was? , or is?
Think twice, take your time,
Hope this time would enough for its journey to oasis...
poem by Vikrant Jog
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Overcoming The Pains Of Reading Too Much
when the eyes ache
i see camels on a journey to a long desert at night time
the aches are but temporary
a contrary thought that wants the pleasure of the dumb
it shies away from the pages of a book
desert sands at noontime
skulls of horses and skeletons of
some brave Bedouins
losing everything for the love
of the unknown
oasis,
i battle for more air in my lungs
as simple as a series of sighs and deep breaths
a roomful of
fresh air from the window of trees
then the sign of the triumphant flag is sounded
at the temple of ivory
these eyes are clear ponds now
not a fish lives here
it is a diamond with many faces
a winning of psychiatric wars
a proclamation of sanity regained after too much struggle for
the purity of intentions
the world is calm
there are no ripples of doubt now
pain is a mathematical problem that you have solved
a formula is found and like the rest of these eurekas
comes now the
explosion, a big explosion,
this time everyone is saved
it is not what you think, you have been honestly suspicious
now, shout.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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My Texas Desert Heaven
There's no tree,
As far as I can see,
The cactus are always green.
There's alot of sand,
But oh man,
This is my Texas desert heaven.
The stars are nice and bright,
The moon shines over desert sky at night,
That's My Texas desert night.
It's like being in Heaven,
When it rains it smells so great.
This is where my heart roams and stays,
This is My Texas Desert Heaven.
poem by Christina Muniz
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Dryness
there are deserts
of relationship.
i've been there
and i will find myself
back in there
at least, with this experience
i had with camels and oasis
and mirage
now, i shall know how to manage
the sands
slipping from my fingers
the date palms and the
full moon
and the sandstorms
and then
the same thing happens
you ultimately find the sea
and the port
and hands waving
welcoming you back home.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A durable, long-term U.S.-China strategic relationship is even more important now than in previous decades. The relationship will continue to grow and prosper to the mutual benefit of all peoples.
quote by Alexander Haig
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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How spiny the cactus raised itself
how spiny the cactus raised itself
into the desert
how red the sand
burnt under the mid-day sun
how scorched the scorpion moved
across the red sand
and in that silence
a sudden whirlwind blows
a red, red cloud of sand
from the dunes rises
how spiny the cactus raised itself
into the tempest:
and yet
and yet
the tempest was subdued and fell
as happened long ago and now
and still
and spiny the cactus raises itself
into the desert
and the red sand
burns under the mid-day sun
poem by Emmanuel George Cefai
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No one is useless
Cactus is full of thorns.
Rose is a real charm.
Cactus guards in fence.
Rose has in it a defense.
Rose must not scorn
The cactus for its thorn.
15.04.2001, Vijv
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The Usual Happening
and so it happens
that he finally went to the wilderness
because his heart is bleeding
and he is in need of the cure
the silence in the desert
the extreme heat of the sun
the hope for the oasis
the dream of camels
the mercy of his beloved
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Poetry Of Smell
a smell, your smell,
that perfume that sticks
to my skin,
your sweat, that wetness
between us,
dry before us, desert sand,
nothing to talk about oasis,
camels in a caravan
under the stars one evening,
you are my tent,
i live there, but you are not
there, there is this blankness
that i face within me,
there is this trail that smells
like you, i follow,
and then i stop, it is not us
there, there is no us,
there is the star that shines
one evening
it does not last,
but every evening it comes
back to me,
too near, in my mind,
too far, in reality.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Painted Desert
[ jerome augustyniak/natalie merchant ]
The painted desert can wait till summer.
Weve played this game of just imagine long enough.
Wait till summer?
When Im sure the rains have ended, the blooms have gone,
Everyone killed by the morning frost.
Is a cactus blooming there in every roadside stand
Where the big deal is cowboy gear won in japan?
The painted desert can wait till summer.
Weve played this game of just imagine long enough.
Wait till summer?
When Im sure the rains have ended and the blooms have gone,
Everyone killed by the morning frost.
Is a cactus blooming there upon the northern rim
Or in the ruins of the hopi mesa dens?
You met a new friend in the canyon, or so you wrote.
On a blanket in the cooling sand you and your friend agreed that
The stars were so many there they seemed to overlap.
The painted desert can wait till summer.
Weve played this game of just imagine long enough.
Wait till summer?
When I am sure the rain has ended, the blooms have gone,
Everyone killed by the morning frost.
Was a cactus blooming there as you watched the native boy?
In flagstaff trailer court, you wrote the line:
He kicked a tumbleweed and his mother called him home where the arizona moon met the arizona sun.
I wanted to be there by may at the latest time.
Isnt that the plan we had or have you changed your mind?
I havent read a word from you since phoenix or tucson.
April is over will you tell me how long before I can be there?
song performed by by 10000 Maniacs
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In the Spirit of Rumi-39-The Desert
As the cool dawn brings the light
to the desert where the blue-white sky
meets the sand that time and man have brought,
and you wake the camel boy
to lead the camels from the waterside –
before you mount the lurching beast
and sway off into the desert on your path,
the camel-bells tinkling on the harness,
look into the camel’s eyes.
There you will see mingled,
pride in its being; patience in its duty.
The wise men say that God is found
where opposites meet and are resolved.
Proud in its being, patient in its duty –
no great wonder, then, that the camel
has been chosen of God to take you
across the desert of your destiny in faith and trust;
for in the world of metaphor, where man meets God
in the mind’s own language,
the camel is your body; dutiful proud servant
for the journey you must take; your company
for the length of time that journey takes.
So, traveller, when you reach the green and cool oasis
at the ending of the day’s sufficient journey -
first tie your camel by the waters of refreshment
before you kneel; for food; for prayer; then
resting in the bright-eyed company;
the eyes of those who scan the round horizon as they ride
and wonder always, what oasis lies beyond.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Just One Of Those Days Really...
yes, there were eternally bleeding palms
Pio, do you remember the name?
astigmatic, and there were those many names
many images, so many mirages and
desert suns, oasis, camels, Bedouins,
scimitars of the past conversations
the origami of storks and ponds
there was this chines frog who made it to the seven rivers
that koi that turned into a dragon guarding the eunuch of the empire
so many words said and you think
those were wastes, they never had any meaning at all
except that gullibility of the gulls
but who knows, you maybe wrong ultimately for dismissing
some facades of poems
people are poets and they cannot tell you the meanings of surfaces
submarines go deeper and will not announce its resurfacing
corals there, colored fish, pearls, sunken treasures of the past
who knows, there may be real stories there
hands that bury metaphors
euphemisms that actually carry truth between the legs
of their syllables
you should have known better and when you believe all these at once
i tell you, you were never wrong.
it is just one of those days, when words are more real.
i never regret having said them, drawn the lines, and fortified my forts.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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On A Dry Desert
on a dry desert
the night is cold
the moon and
stars keep on
shining, and on
the day the
caravan keeps
on moving,
the sun and dusts
keep them
going
the dream for
the oasis
somewhere
or perhaps of
the sea or
perhaps of the
river
still fills the mind
for those
who are searching
for the water.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Morning Mumblings.....
the dog always knows
who is its master,
the master likes it
of course,
we however, remains to
be the sands in the desert
thirsting for water
thriving on tiny violets and
cactus and scorpions and
rattlesnakes,
we have refused the name of
the source of water
we infused instead the comfort
of the night
relying on the thick blankets
that we have kept for ourselves
the camels brayed,
the stones are so silent
the palms sing
the olives keep its oil
the dog barks at the
wrong tree
the moon sails and
falls upon the edge of the horizon
the riddles keep a shape
of a face shaking its head
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Les Cactus
Le monde entier est un cactus
Il est impossible de s'asseoir
Dans la vie il n'y a que des cactus
Moi j'm'pique de le savoir
Aie! aie! ouille! aie!
Dans leur coeur il y a des cactus
Dans leur portefeuille y a des cactus
Sous leurs pieds il y a des cactus
Dans l'heure qu'il est il y a des cactus
Aie! aie! ouille! aie!
Pour me defendre de leur cactus
A mon tour j'ai pris des cactus
Dans mon lit j'ai mis des cactus
Dans mon silp j'ai mis des cactus
Aie! aie! ouille! aie!
Dans leur sourir' il y a des cactus
Dans leur ventr' il y a des cactus
Dans leur bonjour il y a des cactus
Dans leur cactus il y a des cactus
Aie! aie! aie! ouille! ouille!
Le monde entier est un cactus
il est impossible de s'asseoir
Dans la vie y a que des cactus
Moi je me pique de le savoir
Aie! aie! aie!
song performed by by Vanessa Paradis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Can't Walk Alone
She's sugar and spice, and everything nice
'It's an act, don't take her back'... but I love her
She's sugar and spice, and everything nice
'A selfish brat, don't take her back'... but I love her
Conflicting thoughts, bounce back and forth
In my minds, Centre court
Tearing me apart, play at my heart
Cause I love her
And I can't walk alone, I can't, I can't walk alone
She follows me like the moon
I can't walk alone, I can't, I can't walk alone
She follows me like the moon
She's a star, freshly fallen from the sky
'Doomsday', you say, 'don't take her back'... but I love her
She's a star, freshly fallen from the sky
'Treat her like radiation, don't take her back'... but I love her
Conflicting thoughts, bounce back and forth
In my minds, Centre court
Tearing me apart, play at my heart
But I love her
And I can't walk alone, I can't, I can't walk alone
She follows me like the moon
I can't walk alone, I can't, I can't walk alone
She follows me like the moon
She's an oasis of life, a desert flower of delight
'Pure cactus, don't take her back'... but I love her
She's an oasis of life, a desert flower of delight
'Join the foreign legion, don't take her back'... but I love her
Conflicting thoughts, bounce back and forth
In my minds, Centre court
Tearing me apart, play at my heart
But I love her
And I can't walk alone, I can't, I can't walk alone
She follows me like the moon
I can't walk alone, I can't, I can't walk alone
She follows me like the moon
Copyright Colin Coplin 2012
poem by Colin Coplin
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Little Black Bird
little black bird of Lia
flying away to Arizona
how is that little black
bird? what is it doing
in the desert? watching
how God paints a very
red orange sunset and
how the wind of the night
erases everything? Little
Black bird of Lia, what
is the reason for the
the leaving of devotion?
is sincerity still found
on that desert flower
blooming without water?
the cactus and some thorns
my loneliness deep like
the desert night, my longing
wide like the wind, my
illusions that life still
imitate art, that i can be
myself. Blackness and wings.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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