Edited
one afternoon when the sun
sinks at the horizon and fades like a face
of my beloved
i begin to write about the fact of
friendship
not in poetic form but
factual
it is all about you
the day you left for america and you never write
a letter at the time
when letters were still in.
it is about a question of not talking
about a silence that still speaks despite the fact
that my hands cover my mouth
it is about a promise
that you will be you despite the absence of everyone
despite the loneliness
that lingers like a leech
on the skin of your feet as you pass the murky waters
of your life
friend, dissolve like sugar to water and be invisible
but still be sweet as ever.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Why Do I Write
I write from my sadness
I write from the madness
I write because I have something to say
I write to pass the day
I write only from the heart
I write for sometimes I am not that smart
Whatever is in head just comes out on paper (in this case a word document) , and I go with the flow
Write to let my mind go
I follow my hand to where ever it takes me
I write all the things that I can see
I write when I am happy, but not as much
I write from my heart that you can touch
I write because I’d go insane
I am driven to write quell my pain
At times I feel alone so I write what I am feeling
I write for it is self-healing
Confident not so I write it all away
I write and write to pass the day
I write to comfort my soul that cries out in the night
I write for love is always out of sight
I write so I don't have to cry any more
I write for I have no one to adore
I write so someone somewhere will hear my plea
I write for someone is out there for me
I am lost and I the clown
I write to turn my frown upside down
I write to embrace the sadness I hide inside
I write with my heart opened wide
I write to silence the ghost
I write for I’ve been let down by the one I loved the most
I write through the stormy weather
I write for I am light as a feather
I am not a writer nor am I a poet
I write for the grief I do know it
I will write until I draw my last breath
I write because I'll die a lonely death
I have to write for strangers delight
I write because I have to write
I write for my own happiness
I write to relieve my stress
I write because I have no other choice
I write as if I was writing a letter
I write because I can’t do any better
I write because I am afraid not to
I write for this is what I do
I write for I give a damn
I write just because I am
poem by Wilfred Mellers
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Write Me A Letter
Write me a letter
Write me a letter
Write it today
Im goin away (yes it has)
Write me a letter
Write me a letter
Write it today
Im goin away (yes it is)
Well Ive been away forever
Suicides crossin my mind
Well Ill never, never get so far behind
I said, the ways of the night are evil
Without that lord of day
But Ill never, never get so far away
I said write me
Write me
Write me
Write me
I said write me
Write me
Write me
Well theres nothin I can see
Thatd ever make me
Want to be without her
Shes good, she good to me
Said theres no way to explain
The kind of feelin that you get out in the
She good, she good to me
She good, she good to me
I love her
Write me a letter
Write me a letter
Write it today
Im goin away (yes it has)
Write me a letter
Write me a letter
Write it today
Im goin away (yes it is)
Well Ive been away forever
Suicides crossin my mind
Well Ill never, never get so far behind
Well Ive been so many places
Hidin from the wind and the rain
But you could write me a letter
For to save me from goin insane
Write me
Excite me
Write me
Write me
Write me
Write me...
song performed by by Aerosmith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Perfect Storm
Ever experienced a perfect storm?
You know, after you're born
And the world seems swell
And everyone says all's well
Till your nostrils begin to smell
The scent of rain in which you played
Till your eyes lock upon your sky
And the clouds begin to gather
In a way that makes you an island
Preparing you for the life you're about to live
You think to fight instead you quake in fright and pray in flight
But the clouds refuse to scatter
For you they came and for you they'll stay
Where everything that could go wrong
Converge with a verdict ensuing
That everything goes wrong all at once
Not for a season in time but for a life in time
Where the tides are high
The dark is sky
And the sea is life
Where the winds they rage
And of you make a sage
Till you turn a page
And in the midst of the storm you write your age
Of the age in which you live, on the empty page
And when all your rage lies raging upon the page
You stand upon what's left of your feet, stare the storm rage to rage
And scream from the pith of your lungs what's left of your rage
Then go to sleep as the storm replies in fades
Everyone asks you to see the stars
In the pitch darkness of your darkest life
But the darkness has blinded you so
And the silence has deafened you to
The loneliness that eats through your bones
And your skin is a sagging beauty once known.
So you take up your pen and begin to chronicle
The life you live that's become a ridicule
And line by line you write your life's riddle
And about the cancer eating out your follicle
And time you spent praying for a miracle
Those on shore read these words you chronicle
And marvel upon the miracle
Of a heart that heals in the face of ridicule
They applaud and put you upon a pinnacle
But your storm is not a phase in time
It fades not at the appearance of a dime
Nor sweetens the sour taste of lime
And the voices that raises you to Zeus
Do not change your loneliness to us
So you remain you alone, just you and you
Gazing upon the horizon for a love that's true
The people they look up to you
The light you shine casts a shadow upon your hue
The dewy skies drown the dawn
And your mourning heart dims your morn
You wait for fate in faith that tides
O, these tides will turn someday in time
Oh the love I seek will one day be mine
Yet the life you live will no day be fine.
poem by Jenim Dibie
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A Poem Written By A Confessed Bipolar (her Name To Be Revealed Upon Her Permission)
I write because I can
I write because there are so many things to be written.
I write because I can make a painting without a brush and paints in my hand.
I write because I can capture the moment without having a camera.
I write because letters and words are the only recipe I know how to cook.
I write because I want to read what I’ve written.
I write because I’m used to speak in silence.
I write because I have a story to tell.
I write because I want to strip off my flesh and live as a pure being.
I write because I can record my “voice” without having a recorder.
I write because it’s like a cup of coffee, it keeps me awake
I write because I want to live even when I do not exist.
I write because this is my throwing stones when I’m frustrated.
6/11/09 at 4: 42 PM
I write because I can flaunt my being when I don’t have clothes to show off.
I write because this is like making an encyclopedia to a coloring book.
I write because it’s more effective than my lithium medication.
I write because I’m tired of carrying these baggages on the road.
I write because I’m tired of talking too much.
I write because it’s a healthier diversion than smoking.
I write because it’s more therapeutic than analyzing my problem.
I write because I want to paint a thousand pictures with words.
I write because I can put colors to the letters and make a rainbow of words.
I write because it’s the key combinations to my hidden vaults.
I write because my ball pen is my best friend in the darkest nights.
I write because it surprises me with what I am capable of thinking&doing. 6/11/09 at 4: 43 PM
I write because I like that ideas are popping like pop corns.
I write because I can wander in the adventures of my own world.
I write because I have to cleanse my collection of memories of an old home.
I write because like a mirror you need to do a lot of reflections.
I write because I want to fight the battle of life.
I write because I wanted my little voice to be heard.
I write because I want to run from the insanities of the world.
I write because pictures don’t talk.
I write because it helps me connect the dots when I look back in my life.
I write because it brings me back to my crib of silence.
I write because it makes a buzz to other bees in my beehive.
I write because unlike my bike my destination is limitless.
I write because I want to become an inspiration without extinction 6/11/09 at 4: 43 PM
I write because like strumming of the guitar, it vibrates in my soul.
I write because I love to write.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Write America (Revision)
I write America
in order to form a perfect union
assuming there is a union at all
and not just some Texas mama's boy
standing off to the side
watching it fall
for the strong
for the weak
and for those who refuse to speak
I hurt on their behalf
and for them
I write America.
I write America
the beautiful
conquered from sea to shining sea
known now only for the names
who 'discovered' it
Christopher Columbus and Amerigo Vespucci
who failed to realize
there were already people here
I always wondered
how you could discover something
that's already been discovered
for credit where credit is due
I write America.
I would continue to write America
but America responds only to threats
so instead I just watch America
I watch slices of the American Pie
devoured left and right
but all across the board
the skin tone in invariably white
I am the property of a nation
built on the countries it has conquered
and a heritage it will never own
until the day the American dream includes me
I just watch America.
poem by Harlequin Rose
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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12: 11 Noon (Office Break)
three cases disposed
and a chat of a friend from Bohol is finished
it has been a very busy morning
more files are coming
i composed this poem and posted it
just to mark a moment
everything is welcome here
the poetic, the non-poetic and the a-poetic
publication is free
and life after this goes on as usual as yesterday
you are afraid that soon a writer's block sets in
because you expect more from you
we are but witnesses and we write what we have seen
and felt
in fact, as you can see, when we begin to talk to ourselves
when everyone left at this hour
you will realize
there is even no audience to speak of
and that comforts us once again
that when no one is reading or watching
the dance as though it is your last
sing as though
no one likes to listen
live life
the way life wants itself to be lived
in such a short moment
let their be no rules, let every line be free
let there be only you
in this office break, and say to yourself
now i am king and now
this is my universe.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Write Me
Aerosmith
Write Me
Well I've been away forever, suicide's crossin' my mind,
But I'll never never never never never get so far behind.
I said, the ways of the night are evil with eyes that love the day,
but I'll never never never never never get so far away.
I said write me, write me, write me.
I said write me, write me, write me.
Well there's nothin' I can see that'd ever make
me want to be without her she's good, she's good to me.
Said there's no way to explain the kind of feeling
that you get out in the rain she's good, she's good to me.
See this emptiness inside it makes me scream
it make me crawl out of my high, she's good, she's good to me.
I love her.
Write me a letter, write me a letter, write it today, I'm goin' away.
Well I've been away forever, suicide's crossin' my mind,
But I'll never never never never never get so far behind.
Well I've been so many places hidin' from the wind and the rain,
But you could write me a letter for to save me from a goin' insane.
I said write me, write, write, write me.
Write me, write, write, write me.
Write me, write, write, write.
I said write me, write, write, write me.
Write me, write, write, write me.
Don't write me baby.
song performed by by Aerosmith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When We Grow
when we grow
we actually change
we are like the sprouts of
a bean slowly crawling
wanting to see and
touch the sun,
we pretend not
to notice because
time runs so slowly
like cells unseen by
us but keen and keep on
gaining length and
width like the way
we grow eyelids
and we extend our sights
and smells, we find
love and we embrace
lust and we mix them
like a kind of
a bloody Mary drink,
or scotch on the rocks
and we face walls and
we mumble as we begin
to meet loneliness,
the spaces that spread
like a disease; you and
i, in all these, after a
lovely night in a
tangle of hair and
intertwining of fingers
we face darkness
and walls and we
begin to ask: what for?
we let the rain fall
our roofs leak and our
windows begin to open
we find separate paths
and we argue and then
we decide to take what
we really want:
i long for this and you long
for that; we take separate
ways, and we say goodbye.
we write letters day to day
until such time when the
silence becomes like a boring hour
and the
letters are unread and
we throw them on the river
of time: floating, all the
letters dissolving in the
cold waters of forgetting.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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How Do You Write Poetry
There is a question I am often asked,
of which I have no answer for at all.
The question is a simple one,
how do you write poetry?
To be honest I haven’t got a clue.
With me the words just trickle out
one after the other,
if they rhyme that is great
and if they don’t, I just scratch my head.
I cannot tell anyone how to write,
for me it’s just a natural thing.
I write almost everything,
novels, short stories, poems and songs.
I have even written a couple of plays,
but that was a long, long time ago.
However to tell anyone how to write,
I would not know where to begin.
The answer I give to the question is simple;
write whatever you like good or bad.
It’s yours and be proud of it
no matter what anyone else has to say.
The more you write the better you will get.
However, the most important thing
that you should always remember and that is
that you write, write, and write!
9 November 2011
poem by David Harris
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An Autumn Letter
I want to write a letter to someone in the autumn
In the Autumn, I see lonely fountain streamed from a deep valley
And want to wet the lonely heart
I write a letter in the autumn night but knowing that cannot be sent in the morning
Now there is a postman who delivers letters in the air in the days and nights
So I am sending letters
I regret but the unsent letters always cry
I send the thread tied letters in the air without stamps
The letters of the poet opens its eyes with holding their breaths
poem by Kyungdae Min
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The Wicked Postman
Why do you sit there on the floor so quiet and silent, tell me,
mother dear?
The rain is coming in through the open window, making you all
wet, and you don't mind it.
Do you hear the gong striking four? It is time for my brother
to come home from school.
What has happened to you that you look so strange?
Haven't you got a letter from father today?
I saw the postman bringing letters in his bag for almost
everybody in the town.
Only father's letters he keeps to read himself. I am sure the
postman is a wicked man.
But don't be unhappy about that, mother dear.
Tomorrow is market day in the next village. You ask your maid
to buy some pens and papers.
I myself will write all father's letters; you will not find
a single mistake.
I shall write from A right up to K.
But, mother, why do you smile?
You don't believe that I can write as nicely as father does!
But I shall rule my paper carefully, and write all the letters
beautifully big.
When I finish my writing do you think I shall be so foolish
as father and drop it into the horrid postman's bag?
I shall bring it to you myself without waiting, and letter by
letter help you to read my writing.
I know the postman does not like to give you the really nice
letters.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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To Begin With
to begin with
he smiles and they begin to like him
because he is contagious
his smile travels from one place to another
like the way the butterfly hovers from one flower
another flower in the garden of
peace and quiet
to begin with
he keeps a hold on something that makes him happy
despite the odds
despite the fact that it is his own house that is burning
despite the fact that all the bridges going to his place have all been broken
to begin with
he is naked and he has nothing to cover himself anymore
to begin with
he is foremost his own being
and it is only this that all of them cannot take anymore
and so he keeps the promise
to maintain this emptiness so they may all become full
and guilty and sad.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Write by Return
Clerk, corresponding,
“Rooster and Comb”,
Here I sit idle
“Thinking of home”;
I must be grafting—
Living to earn,
More correspondence,
“Write by return.”
Clerk in employ of
“Shoddy and Woods”,
Thinks that we have not
Forwarded goods.
Parcel we sent them—
Missing, I learn,
Says in his postscript:
“Write by return.”
Here is another
Letter from Bland—
“Cheque he expected
Isn’t to hand.”
How we forgot it
Cannot discern,
“Forward remittance,
Write by return.”
Here is another—
O how they come?
Treats of a “Bender”
Planned by a chum.
See on the margin,
Big letters: “Burn
After perusal—
Write by return.”
Mail in from England,
Letters for me—
Dear little sweetheart
Over the sea.
“Quite broken-hearted,
O how I yearn
Only to see you. . . .
Write by return.”
One who will “never
Think that I’m bad”
Writes me a letter
Tearful and sad.
Thinks that I’m starving,
Filled with concern,
Sends me some money—
“Write by return.”
Letter from father,
Sent to his son,
“All is forgiven—
Fat calf for one.”
O that I ever
Thought he was stern—
Money for passage—
Write by return.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Ships Passing In Night Born
ships are sailing upon turn tide flowing river waters
light is dance happy mellow yellows closing long day
soon sunset will add flame reds fingers yellow gold
sun sets sinks into still sea upon horizon home shores
dust light fades shadows creep in stealth murky images
suddenly black dawns night deep darkness speaks in glory
starlight sparkles upon enchanted waters river ebbs flows
passage across bar out into ocean waves rocks emotions
soon short journeys made upon ocean waters salts senses
watch shoreline beach grey sands invisible stretch wet away
waters dark painted ocean oil black sparkles in flow waves
beach sands perfume night with residue heat breeze vapours
poem by Terence George Craddock
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What You Lack Is The Simplicity Of Reality
my hands on the keyboard
on ten fingers
my eyes do not look for the letters
the letters find
me, i am amazed by this kind
of arrangement
on the simplicity of reality having
a life of its own
letters like bees having a cell
of its own
syllables having a mouth
speaking about what they can do
in a poem
i take this matter lightly
there is no rush
this is not a matter of life and death
but merely a way of letting time pass
beyond our
boundaries
i give in to what is beyond me
i empty myself of its contents
the mouth of my bottle
sings of emptiness
this is the simplicity of reality
it speaks
about nothing.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Liberty
On my books and poetry,
On my desk and on the computer
On the sand and on the beach
I write your name
On all the pages I have read
On all the blank pages
Stone bloody shed or ash
I write your name
On my greedy, tender friends
On my comrades, beloved country,
On my clumsy hands
I write your name
On my health and wealth
On the risk which disappeared
On the hope without memory
I write your name
And by the power of one word
I begin a life again
I was born to know you
To name you.
Liberty
poem by Lawrence Hiung
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Song That Jane Likes
And in plays to write the wire in
Ill come back again
Torching time talking rhymes in
Ill come back again
Would you like to play
With the thought of a friend
In a distant passing stage
While you lie around
With hands up and down
So resigned you will fall down
While you around here play
Wild on the warm and far away
While you around here play
The days keep scrbbling themselves
In tidy lines
Would like to play
With a fool holding hands
With a one-eyed jack of spades
While on the deck they sing
All of the captains cards are kings
Still he and the queen are lost at sea
I hope it isnt you and me
And Ill be back round again
Yes Ill walk in time with you old friend
And well find that place
That we had danced so long ago
And in plays to write the wire in
Ill come back again
Torching time talking rhymes in
Ill come back again
With this resigned
The letter I sign
song performed by by Dave Matthews Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cascading
i am like a cascading water
fall
rushing to meet you
even in the midst
of some
boulders of rocks
beside
cliffs and ravines
the moment i
touch you
love cascades too
like rain from
a heavy cloud
an outburst of
desire
an explosion
of an absence
long suppressed
deep inside
our palpitating
lusts
two waters cascading
from our
bosoms and hands and
thighs and feet
like a big murky river
longing
for the mouth leading
to the sea
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Two Thousand
I've reached a milestone some might say
but to me it's just become my way
to pass my time with rhythm and rhyme
and deliver my thoughts to you.
When I wrote my very first poem
I felt I'd just been born.
I fearfully put my pen on the page
on an early morn
and my thoughts just literally flew.
It's become my way to have my say
about everything under the sun.
And now that I've written 2,000 of them
I still revere number one.
For it was my poetic debut.
Will I stop here and lay the pen aside
or will the ink still flow?
Most certainly I will write some more
for poetry to me is a rainbow.
It appears right out of the blue.
It's beautiful, mysterious
and filled with color.
So I accept the fact it's a milestone
but know that I'm not through.
I'll get up tomorrow morning
and write some more for you.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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The Face of Love
When I gaze upon your countenance
I see all who I have and will still love
and your eyes a blue summer sky
warming the very core of my being
The alabaster perfection of your skin
crowning your lustrous beauty
Your inviting mouth drawing me in
to savour your sweet taste
to guess at your secrets
hidden behind an enigmatic smile
You are like a secret rendezvous
hankered after by all
Time cannot be defined
for you are infinite
in your freedom
Face of my beloved
the face of love
By: Suzette Crous
Inspired by:
The Face of Love
by Ingrid Jonker
Your face is the face of all the others
before you and after you and
your eyes calm as a blue
dawn breaking time on time
herdsman of the clouds
sentinel of white iridescent beauty
the landscape of your contesses (sic) mouth
that I have explored
keeps the secret of a smile
like small white villages beyond the mountains
and your heartbeats the measure of their ecstasy
There is no question of beginning
there is no question of possession
there is no question of death
face of my beloved
the face of love
poem by Suzette Crous
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