Do Not Sleep Yet...
do not sleep yet
for i am sad and like all the sad people of this world
i need a little time
to keep me company
talk
talk to me
whatever that be
i may listen and look at every word that you utter
as some butterflies or bees
or flowers on the foot of those green hills
breasts of some mountains
thighs of some river banks
soft hands of the creeks
bellies of the valleys
i want to imagine the anatomy of nature
like they are all naked women
and you shall think of me as the lusting sun
licking all those
tasting everyone
do not sleep yet
i need to look at your words as flowers
for now my intentions are honest
pure as gold without the bones
of adulteration
soft and yellow
shaped by the gentleness of your hands
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
On the open plain (Catena Rondo)
Some flowers rise up bright from tiny seeds,
blooms appear with heads searching for the sun;
on this earth so it's been since time begun,
some flowers rise up bright from tiny seeds,
blooms appear with heads searching for the sun
they rejoice over a day that is new
are fresh with the glistening morning dew;
blooms appear with heads searching for the sun
they rejoice over a day that is new
as bees and butterflies flutter along
birds do sing the happiest kind of song
they rejoice over a day that is new,
as bees and butterflies flutter along
wild deer graze at the soft tender green grass
while they in massive herds do slowly pass
as bees and butterflies flutter along
wild deer graze at the soft tender green grass
some flowers rise up bright from tiny seeds
grow to strength in a world full of big weeds,
wild deer graze at the soft tender green grass,
some flowers rise up bright from tiny seeds,
blooms appear with heads searching for the sun;
on this earth so it's been since time begun,
some flowers rise up bright from tiny seeds.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Full Lips That Kiss
it is cold tonight
and it was only our good fortune
that let me find this place for us to sleep
and blankets and i have your warm breasts
and you brought other friends that you say
need to be made full as well
knowing i have a special fondness for soft ever growing
bellies filled thus with mine and free milk
though it works i know both ways and you have told them
that it takes much, much more for me to give out to they
and while i sleep it flows how like rivers it all flows
and such are the lips in need that one never feels them
as they move with such firm purpose and while one
holds the stones and the other squeezes one then
the other untill it is made freely thus
and already i have many soft bellies filled thus and some
few their milk is sweeter but i say nothing as preferably
and i sleep now with my belly full of rich milk as they forage
furring the day..and life is as it once was and as it should be
and hard ship all around us
and we all sleep warmly and contently knowing
that it is thus
and even now one is in need and being responsible, i sleep.
while all around me the bellies are kicking and pushing.
poem by Is It Poetry
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Flowers
Do you not say
I’m omnipotent,
Omnipresent?
I created you,
Your family
And the nature
Around you.
Would I not be able to
Smell and see the flowers
That surround you?
Why pick them up in lots,
Pluck them off their
Lives, sew them with
Needles, and gift them
As garlands to an image
Of me: your temple deity.
What joy I get, tell me?
If I see my creations
Being ravaged by man’s
Ruthless hands. Like you,
They would love to live
A carefree life of freedom
And sunshine.
Why smother them
Prematurely, wither them
With your plucking fingers?
Don’t crush them to offer me
Pushpanjali.
Let them breathe in the
Breeze of the garden
Where they belong…
Let the bees savour their nectar.
Do not give me bouquets
Of dying flowers…
I’m just as happy
To see them
Blossom :)
In the branches of
The swinging trees.
Why make them bare and barren?
They look so naked without their
Adornments – the beautiful flowers
That drape them in beauty…
Listen to me, my dear devotee.
You happen to see me everywhere,
Don’t you?
You talk of my omnipresence,
So why don’t you see
That I don’t need
Flowers from thee
To please me.
They are there for nature to show us
How flowers look beautiful in their
Natural beauty…don’t pluck, please.
Won’t you heed me?
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Let The Night Sleep
Let the night sleep
Sleep for ever deep
With the night I sleep
Beyond the world to peep
Universe will sleep
Plants and trees
Birds and bees
Stars and moon
To sleep very soon!
Fruits and flowers
Joy with showers
Will sleep with me and the night
Not to keep the life very tight!
No dawn of the day
Right upto the dooms day!
Sleep permanent
In the world impermanent
I'll sleep without light
My agonies will sleep
My worries will sleep
My pains will sleep
My sins will sleep!
While in sleep
I am pure
I am peace
I am noble!
While my body is asleep
Awake my soul I keep
Sleep akin to death
Death akin to sleep in mirth?
Let the night sleep
Sleep for ever deep
With night I sleep
Sleep to eternity
Soul to merge in Divinity!
poem by Subbaraman N V
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
This Is The Game We Play
we have letters,
we spread them in our thoughts
and we form words, sometimes we like these words
to be not understood that so easily, to make a little suspense
of our game of words,
and we utter some words sometimes, so sweet sounding
our saliva pours from our mouths,
honey tasting words, a la black forest cakes,
we go beyond eating and licking and savoring,
we form words of love,
(setting aside for a while the evident
lust)
we play this game too well
no one gets hurt
plain sheets of white linen
we spread our naked bodies
we put words
using our tongues as hands
caressing hands
this is just a game of words
why do you palpitate that much?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Klondike
Never mind the day we left, or the day the women clung to us;
All we need now is the last way they looked at us.
Never mind the twelve men there amid the cheering—
Twelve men or one man, ’t will soon be all the same;
For this is what we know: we are five men together,
Five left o’ twelve men to find the golden river.
Far we came to find it out, but the place was here for all of us;
Far, far we came, and here we have the last of us.
We that were the front men, we that would be early,
We that had the faith, and the triumph in our eyes:
We that had the wrong road, twelve men together,—
Singing when the devil sang to find the golden river.
Say the gleam was not for us, but never say we doubted it;
Say the wrong road was right before we followed it.
We that were the front men, fit for all forage,—
Say that while we dwindle we are front men still;
For this is what we know tonight: we’re starving here together—
Starving on the wrong road to find the golden river.
Wrong, we say, but wait a little: hear him in the corner there;
He knows more than we, and he’ll tell us if we listen there—
He that fought the snow-sleep less than all the others
Stays awhile yet, and he knows where he stays:
Foot and hand a frozen clout, brain a freezing feather,
Still he’s here to talk with us and to the golden river.
“Flow,” he says, “and flow along, but you cannot flow away from us;
All the world’s ice will never keep you far from us;
Every man that heeds your call takes the way that leads him—
The one way that’s his way, and lives his own life:
Starve or laugh, the game goes on, and on goes the river;
Gold or no, they go their way—twelve men together.
“Twelve,” he says, “who sold their shame for a lure you call too fair for them—
You that laugh and flow to the same word that urges them:
Twelve who left the old town shining in the sunset,
Left the weary street and the small safe days:
Twelve who knew but one way out, wide the way or narrow:
Twelve who took the frozen chance and laid their lives on yellow.
“Flow by night and flow by day, nor ever once be seen by them;
Flow, freeze, and flow, till time shall hide the bones of them;
Laugh and wash their names away, leave them all forgotten,
Leave the old town to crumble where it sleeps;
Leave it there as they have left it, shining in the valley,—
Leave the town to crumble down and let the women marry.
“Twelve of us or five,” he says, “we know the night is on us now:
Five while we last, and we may as well be thinking now:
Thinking each his own thought, knowing, when the light comes,
Five left or none left, the game will not be lost.
Crouch or sleep, we go the way, the last way together:
Five or none, the game goes on, and on goes the river.
“For after all that we have done and all that we have failed to do,
Life will be life and a world will have its work to do:
Every man who follows us will heed in his own fashion
The calling and the warning and the friends who do not know:
Each will hold an icy knife to punish his heart’s lover,
And each will go the frozen way to find the golden river.”
There you hear him, all he says, and the last we’ll ever get from him.
Now he wants to sleep, and that will be the best for him.
Let him have his own way—no, you needn’t shake him—
Your own turn will come, so let the man sleep.
For this is what we know: we are stalled here together—
Hands and feet and hearts of us, to find the golden river.
And there’s a quicker way than sleep? … Never mind the looks of him:
All he needs now is a finger on the eyes of him.
You there on the left hand, reach a little over—
Shut the stars away, or he’ll see them all night:
He’ll see them all night and he’ll see them all tomorrow,
Crawling down the frozen sky, cold and hard and yellow.
Won’t you move an inch or two—to keep the stars away from him?
—No, he won’t move, and there’s no need of asking him.
Never mind the twelve men, never mind the women;
Three while we last, we’ll let them all go;
And we’ll hold our thoughts north while we starve here together,
Looking each his own way to find the golden river.
poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Child's Even-Song
The sun is weary, for he ran
So far and fast to-day;
The birds are weary, for who sang
So many songs as they?
The bees and butterflies at last
Are tired out, for just think too
How many gardens through the day
Their little wings have fluttered through.
And so, as all tired people do,
They've gone to lay their sleepy heads
Deep deep in warm and happy beds.
The sun has shut his golden eye
And gone to sleep beneath the sky,
The birds and butterflies and bees
Have all crept into flowers and trees,
And all lie quiet, still as mice,
Till morning comes-like father's voice.
So Geoffrey, Owen, Phyllis, you
Must sleep away till morning too.
Close little eyes, down little heads,
And sleep-sleep-sleep in happy beds.
poem by Richard Le Gallienne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Read My Lips
verbal silence. read my lips.
if you see them.
read the words. read it here.
these words. read them like
flowers in the garden.
these words speak a little.
tips of the iceberg. They are less
compared to the color of my eyes
the warmth of my fingers
the suppressed beatings of my heart.
these words that you read.
if only you can see my lips.
if only you can see my face.
and body, naked on the flowing sheet of
pure paper. IF only you know
what silence means, how emptiness
eats it, if only you know how inferior
verbs and adjectives are
compared to the caresses of the hands
and the tenderness of the fingers,
touch.
read the lines silently.
these words do not shape my lips.
they come to your eyes.
in the silence of your understanding.
never shall they speak
about me. they only talk about
the hands that write sometimes
without any meaning at all.
infinitives are not infinite.
neither do verbs know what is it to be still.
and adjectives talk only about the surface.
deep under, the noise begins.
and silence of the verbs move to another side.
now, the mountains of ideas collapse
and bury the casualties of silence.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Bliss
the hills
are legs spread upon the plains
waiting
as some flowers spread their scents
on the thighs
of the valleys
the sun arrives
in its naked grandeur
since then
love, and love and love
has filled the
earth
winds so soft
and clean and fresh
the heart of the earth
beats
for love and love and more love
the sea is quiet and
calm
and then tonight
the moon and stars
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
07. Love, what is Love?
love, oh what is love?
flowers in so many shapes and hues
giving sweetness to butterflies and bees
in so many shapes and hues
in the field, a buzz, a joy, these insects
help create another world
another paradise, warm colourful flower garden
for lovers of the world
help spread cheers everywhere
with the sweetness the flowers
where the flowers are, the butterflies, the bees are
where there is love, joy spreads
wide as the field
just look at the butterflies and the bees
how they cheer up the field with their songs and dance
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Now I Know Why It Must Rain Sometimes
there is no significance at first
when age is a little boy, the moon is the moon
nothing else, the wind is like anybody's wind
mother's breaths, like a pillow,
such a small world, of less significance
are the little things, unaccounted
laughters are laughters, sighs are sighs,
but today, the metaphors keep hovering
over my hair, like some flowers in my dreams
turning into butterflies, somehow,
the window becomes a framework of
my future, the door an opportunity
that i, as a pair of hands, must either close
or open,
this is it, every word is accounted and saved
and then something grows,
seeds are words now, and the flowers my deeds.
it rains sometimes, a cry for an unburdening.
sleep is again cruel to me.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I Go To Sleep
When I look up from my pillow I dream you are there with me.
Though you are far away I know youll always be near to me.
I go to sleep, sleep, and imagine that youre there with me.
I go to sleep, sleep, and imagine that youre there with me.
I look around me and feel you are ever so close to me.
Each tear that flows from my eyes brings back memories of you to me.
I go to sleep, sleep, and imagine that youre there with me.
I go to sleep, sleep, and imagine that youre there with me.
I was wrong, I will cry, I will love you to the day I die.
You alone, you alone and no one else, you were meant for me.
When morning comes once more I have the loneliness you left me.
Each day drags by until finally night time descends on me.
I go to sleep, sleep, and imagine that youre there with me.
I go to sleep, sleep, and imagine that youre there with me.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
After Cattle
WE lit a fire, and straightway camped,
And all night long
We heard the river sing its song.
Our horses fed, and neighed, and stamped;
But else, o'er all
A haunted silence seemed to fall.
The gum-trees raised their lofty crests
So high, it seemed
They mingled with the stars and dreamed.
As when a tired bird sinks and rests
At end of day,
Head couched on arm, full length we lay.
But Nature would not let us sleep;
She loved so well
To talk, and had such things to tell.
Her fire-fly lamps within the deep
Green gullies shone
One moment, and the next were gone.
The smooth white trunks of ancient trees
In stately pride
Marched up the rugged mountain side.
No leaf fell fluttering on the breeze;
But everywhere
A stillness charmed the midnight air.
And as we lay without a word,
In silence camped,
Our horses in the darkness stamped.
At first, it seemed a timid bird
Sang soft below,
And then . . . we listened, breathing low.
We heard, elusive, strange, and shy,
A song arise —
The river voicing many cries.
At first, it was a human cry
Of sad unrest,
Of one cast down and sore distressed.
And then, an elfin chant it raised,
As when men cry
'We've silks to sell; who'll buy, who'll buy?'
And goods were cried and wares were praised;
It seemed like some
Far market-place in Fairydom.
Yet ever through the chorus stole
The sore-distressed,
Faint human note of sad unrest.
We woke and saw the morning roll
In waves of gold
Upon the mountains green and bold;
Birds sang, flowers laughed, the grass was green;
The sky above
Bent over, arching earth with love;
And, riding through that woodland scene
Of rocks and rills,
We heard the cattle in the hills.
poem by Roderic Quinn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
You Are Not A Dream
last night you are the woman undressing before me
beside the brook with bamboo trees swaying on its side
i am told that you are just a dream
the fruit of my weary mind
i have seen the waterfalls flowing from your hair
i have touched the full moon of your breasts
i laid my body on the cool green grass of your body
your hands are soft and perfumed like the orange flowers
cascading on my face
i feel the rain dripping on my cheeks
when you left me
you are not just a dream my love
you are real from the very beginning of my sleep
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Anniversaries
for all
the things that we both know
we don't talk about them
we start talking
about those that we pretend we do not know
you choose the words
like the way you put the right flowers in a vase
at the headboard of the bed,
and i choose the words not to hurt you
we do not look at each other's eyes
we refrain the touch
of the hands
you leave the flowers there
and i look to another direction
there are things that remain
to be done
we ought to
and then the flowers wilt
nights come and go
and then the following morning
we choose again
words, flowers,
we continue
not talking about what we already know
i guess
this is the only way how we can survive
the travails of marriage.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A glimpse of spring
Now the spring comes with all its delight,
The plants are laden with colourful blossoms,
White, yellow, purple, blue, and red,
There intoxicating fragrance enthralls the mind
It seems somebody has opened the doors of Paradise
The earth is clad in green cloak
The sky watches her with delight
The birds sing pleasant notes
The bees buz round the flowers
To suck their juice
The butterflies fly with glee
Waiting for their turn
A fine breeze blows muttering the words of affection
The rivulet dance with joy and rapture
The hills, the valleys, and the cascades
All wear a new and beautiful look
The whole atmosphere is filled with rapture and I too.
poem by Mohammad Akmal Nazir
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Fall of The Honest Man
THIS IS for you
an honest
dignified man
whose word
is steel
whose fire is pure
you shall fall
as God allows it
but it shall
be as gentle as
a yellow leaf
and the breast of the river
receives you
well
for there
dead must you
be
but full of
sweet dreams
on sleep
as tender as
the shower of rain
on the green grass
early
morning
so quiet...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The garden is my weeping heart
There is no fertilizer at all
But they grow without any quarrels.
Flowers in different colors
And varieties of fragrance.
I have no fence and restrictions too.
Birds, bees, butterflies and hornets idle.
Some trespassers with strong hands,
Sometimes very cruel.
Please do not pluck in that way as it's painful
And let the flowers wither.
One day I have to abandon the garden
As my soul takes wings.
But you find another gardener there.
* Spring comes and goes, yet comes again.
What a wonderful shuttle the nature is?
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
When the country goes temporarily to the dogs, cats must learn to be circumspect, walk on fences, sleep in trees, and have faith that all this woofing is not the last word. What is the last word, then?Gentleness is everywhere in daily life, a sign that faith rules through ordinary things: through cooking and small talk, through storytelling, making love, fishing, tending animals and sweet corn and flowers, through sports, music, and books, raising kids — all the places where the gravy soaks in and grace shines through. Even in a time of elephantine vanity and greed, one never has to look far to see the campfires of gentle people.
quote by Garrison Keillor
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
Vote! | Copy!
The Gippsland Hills
The hills of Gippsland were so green but that was in September
And songbirds piping happy songs as well I might remember
But now the Gippsland hills are gray since sun changed the grass colour
And though the sun shines hot today this countryside looks duller.
The Gippsland hills were green in Spring and grass growing winds were blowing
And all along the sunlit hills the wildering flowers were showing
And bell magpie piped his joyful notes and butcherbird was singing
And through those hills those happy hills the bushlark's voice went ringing.
The Gippsland hills the sunburnt hills grown lonelier and quieter
And like the shades of old man's hair they've turned a gray type whiter
The nearby creek in trickle flow, the birds have lost their voices
And not one of Nature's minstrels now on Gippsland hills rejoices.
The Gippsland hills the sunburnt hills have lost their Spring like colour
And though the sun shines hot today the Gippsland hills look duller
But Spring bring green to Gippsland hills Spring rains and soft winds blowing
And birds will sing on Gippsland hills and Gippsland creeks fast flowing.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!