Enough Of Words And Thoughts
to rest my eyes
i go to the garden and
gaze upon those
leaves
the leaves become
caressing hands
stroking the
soft eyelashes
and rubbing my forehead
with the coolness of
its epidermal
gifts
it is dusk and
light slowly ascends
from the thighs
of the lady mountain
i am lustful at dawn
at noon
they say i am
poetic
i want action tonight
not just words
i call her by the phone
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Dusk Till The Next Dusk
i shall watch the coming of dawn
slits of light from the leaves of dark trees
glimmering packets of light
from the hiding sun on the side of the big mountain
i am dusk
and i am ready with the last breath i have
to face my death at the coming of day
this morning
tonight i prepare to live again
on this constant resurrection
i am dusk
i die when your light comes
i always live in the little dark corner
of my sadness
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When The Leaves Come Falling Down
I saw you standing with the wind and the rain in your face
And you were thinking bout the wisdom of the leaves and their grace
When the leaves come falling down
In september when the leaves, come falling down
And at night the moon is shining on a clear, cloudless sky
And when the evening shadows fall Ill be there by your side
When the leaves come falling down
In september when the leaves, come falling down
Follow me down, follow me down, follow me down
To the place beside the garden and the wall
Follow me down, follow me down
To the space before the twilight and the dawn
Oh, the last time I saw paris in the streets, in the rain
And as I walk along the boulevards with you, once again
And the leaves come falling down
In september, when the leaves come falling down
Follow me down, follow me down, follow me down
To the place between the garden and the wall
Follow me down, follow me down
To the space between the twilight and the dawn
And as Im looking at the colour of the leaves, in your hand
As were listening to chet baker on the beach, in the sand
When the leaves come falling down,
Woe in september, when the leaves come falling down
Oh when the leaves come falling down
Yeah in september when the leaves come falling down
When the leaves come falling down
In september, when the leaves come falling down
When the leaves come falling down in september, in the rain
When the leaves come falling down
When the leaves come falting down in september, in the rain
When the leaves come falling down
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Old Laughing Lady
Don't call pretty Peggy,
she can't hear you no more
Don't leave no message
'round her back door.
They say the old laughing lady
been here before
She don't keep time,
she don't count score.
You can't have a cupboard
if there ain't no wall.
You got to move there's
no time left to stall.
They say the old laughing lady
dropped by to call
And when she leaves,
she leaves nothing at all.
See the drunkard of the village
falling on the street.
Can't tell his ankles
from the rest of his feet.
He loves his old laughing lady
'cause her taste is so sweet.
But his laughing lady's loving
ain't the kind he can keep.
There's a fever on the freeway,
blacks out the night.
There's a slipping on the stairway,
just don't feel right
And there's a rumbling
in the bedroom
and a flashing of light
There's the old laughing lady,
everything is all right.
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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He comes
He comes in the morning
With the eyes that tell me I love them
With the eyes glimmering in a beautiful mind
And he's always silent and I just want to hug him
He comes he leaves
He comes at noon
When all work stops and everyone is at the table
When everyone is together and he only is alone
And he says nothing and I just want to kiss him
He comes he leaves
He comes at twilight
In his hands carrying the burdens of a gifted day
With the hands calming down each touch
He's always silent and I just want to say something
He comes he leaves
He comes at midnight
When in each dream everyone's the same cradle
When everyone's asleep and he's swaying them
And he says nothing and I just want him to stay
He comes he leaves
©Miroslava Odalovic
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Passing Breeze
Yes, I know, this is nothing but thy love,
O beloved of my heart---this golden light that dances upon the leaves,
these idle clouds sailing across the sky,
this passing breeze leaving its coolness upon my forehead.
The morning light has flooded my eyes---this is thy message to my heart.
Thy face is bent from above, thy eyes look down on my eyes,
and my heart has touched thy feet.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Good Friday and More
Good Friday. Dark purple over
All the statues. Grimstock stares
At windows coloured glass light
Shines through. Kim Keltis on his
Right dressed in black mind in prayer
Standing there. Crucified on a brass
Crucifix a Christ hangs the eyes
Closed arms stretched out the hands
Nailed. Grimstock's eyes lower down
To the slim waist of Kim and lets
Eyes move over firm buttocks fleshy
Thighs her dark dress caressing.
Unaware of his eyes her eyes closed
Holds to prayer talks to God confident
God is there not knowing Grimstock's
Stare. Grimstock's eyes like feelers
Reach and touch suck and feed in mind's
Eye greedily the prayer book in his hands
Clutched tightly becomes part of the girl's
Fleshy thighs becomes this becomes that
His dark eyes moving up rest upon her
Brushed hair. Kim standing still in prayer
Not aware Grimstock's there with finger
From forehead to her breast from shoulder
To shoulder makes soft sign of the cross
Imagines her own sweet Crucified hangs
For her in pain there Sweet Jesus she mutters
Like eased breath. Grimstock dreams she's
Undressed beside him in his bed making
Love passionate utterings sexual soft touches.
Kim opens her dark eyes sees Grimstock's
Greedy stare travelling over her standing
There his rough eyes like fingers touching
Her ravishing her soft flesh raping her in his
Mind and knowing that deep down that this
Man pushes hard onto her Jesus' thorny crown.
poem by Terry Collett
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The Old Laughing Lady
Dont call pretty peggy, she cant hear you no more
Dont leave no message round her back door.
They say the old laughing lady been here before
She dont keep time, she dont count score.
You cant have a cupboard if there aint no wall.
You got to move theres no time left to stall.
They say the old laughing lady dropped by to call
And when she leaves, she leaves nothing at all.
See the drunkard of the village falling on the street.
Cant tell his ankles from the rest of his feet.
He loves his old laughing lady cause her taste is so sweet.
But his laughing ladys loving aint the kind he can keep.
Theres a fever on the freeway, blacks out the night.
Theres a slipping on the stairway, just dont feel right
And theres a rumbling in the bedroom and a flashing of light
Theres the old laughing lady, everything is all right.
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Babbling....
the sea has mastered the mass
production of waves
like millions of white foamy
eyelashes
the shore multiplies its own sands
that gleam like diamonds at noon
the trees grow leaves upon its twigs
the spiders spit their own silk
just like the worms
air is breathing upon its own
molecules
no one notices all these miracles
every aspect is normal
there is nothing extraordinary
things flow like water
coolness gush like wind
clouds flit, rain pours, the winds from
the sea hushes
my hands type the words for anything
trying to make poetry unnoticeable
there is nothing extraordinary now about
words on feelings long numbed
when you read this
you shall notice nothing but mass production
too, and you tell yourself
what kind of desecration of the words
is this phenomenon?
desanctify fear, disedify what is divine
make things flow like water
let the air be but just molecules
now, what is so extraordinary about you?
there is no such thing now
as discriminating taste...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Song of Her Garden
She builds her pleasant garden
Where the winds are not so strong
The sun sometimes relenting
Becomes her companion
The garden spreads its arms to her
Thick shoulders, fragile hands
The creepers and the vines that bear
Her flowers from many lands
There is shade upon her shadow
And a path of leaves and stones
That were inlaid imperceptibly
Through years of life alone
There's a trickle of river water
Breaking on a precipice
An ornately painted corner
Where she sees the light of bliss
Papaya trees and lemon trees
That the hurricanes forgot
The garden is her mirror
It reflects her, then does not
Wind chimes in the moonlight
Songbirds awake till dawn
She cultivates the seasons,
Leaves the garden to be born.
poem by Frank Bana
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Darkness And Light
i would like to arrive not at the point
when darkness and light
chase and fight each other
when they grapple with who's right
and who's fit to survive
on the cycle of life
i like to arrive at the time when
they stop and arrive at a compromise
to live in peace together
not that the light stays on the right
not that darkness stays on the left
for that would still be divisive
i like them fuse into a certain hue
so pleasing to the eyes of all confused men
dusk, dawn, a dawning light, grey
the coolness of twilight, midway, between coming and departure
standing still, a gaze of the star and the coming of a new day.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Love Of Light....
upon the window of trees
i rest my weary eyes, the aches dissipate on the leaves
my forehead rests on the hands of the wind,
i lean upon the walls of this house
the comfort zone of the mind
the roof beats like a heart and opens its breast
to the soft touches of the clouds
happier in blue
and then the black birds come with the sweeter sounds
of the flapping of their wings
how happy is this state
of my soul
sitting upon the friendly bone of my body
the light of the sun
lands upon my hair
i am as always and will always be
its respecter and
friend.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Viewing The New Day
as you begin to open the shutters
letting light in
letting them land on that soft white pillow
that which comforted your doubts
last night
become interested on the sparrows
that dance on the twigs of the tree fronting you
lush green leaves
a new nest, light of the sun caressing the barks
dews diminishing in numbers
on a time for surrender
listen to the usual sounds of the day
exaggerate, sensitize, imagine
those that are not there but must satiate our sense of journey
the excitement is here
when finally the lover is gone for another absence
when your heart finds your hands
caressing your body again
on this tender moment
of another solitude.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sonnet LXIX: Autumn Idleness
This sunlight shames November where he grieves
In dead red leaves, and will not let him shun
The day, though bough with bough be over-run.
But with a blessing every glade receives
High salutation; while from hillock-eaves
The deer gaze calling, dappled white and dun,
As if, being foresters of old, the sun
Had marked them with the shade of forest-leaves.
Here dawn to-day unveiled her magic glass;
Here noon now gives the thirst and takes the dew;
Till eve bring rest when other good things pass.
And here the lost hours the lost hours renew
While I still lead my shadow o'er the grass,
Nor know, for longing, that which I should do.
poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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The song that Mary sang
In the stillness of the dawn,
in the stillness of the dusk,
then, my heart is most alive,
there, my soul is most at peace.
In the freshness of the morning,
in the coolness of the eve,
the Lord God walks in every garden;
be still, so to know Him there.
All day long I tend my garden;
there, this evening, God may walk;
I may see Him; I may not - but
yet I meet Him in my work.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Dusk last light
As noon last light
end slowly,
the twilight sleep
tiredly,
with promise of rise
up tomorrow,
to borrow many things
coldly.
is this you dusk?
and the roads become
unseen
slowly, moon appears boldly
to show correct way,
why are you so pretty dusk?
to attract me or to
distract me
yes! dusk its you with
pretty orange face
gods wonderful grace.....
poem by Deep Doloi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Luke Havergal
Go to the western gate, Luke Havergal,
There where the vines cling crimson on the wall,
And in the twilight wait for what will come.
The leaves will whisper there of her, and some,
Like flying words, will strike you as they fall;
But go, and if you listen she will call.
Go to the western gate, Luke Havergal—
Luke Havergal.
No, there is not a dawn in eastern skies
To rift the fiery night that’s in your eyes;
But there, where western glooms are gathering,
The dark will end the dark, if anything:
God slays Himself with every leaf that flies,
And hell is more than half of paradise.
No, there is not a dawn in eastern skies—
In eastern skies.
Out of a grave I come to tell you this,
Out of a grave I come to quench the kiss
That flames upon your forehead with a glow
That blinds you to the way that you must go.
Yes, there is yet one way to where she is,
Bitter, but one that faith may never miss.
Out of a grave I come to tell you this—
To tell you this.
There is the western gate, Luke Havergal,
There are the crimson leaves upon the wall.
Go, for the winds are tearing them away,—
Nor think to riddle the dead words they say,
Nor any more to feel them as they fall;
But go, and if you trust her she will call.
There is the western gate, Luke Havergal—
Luke Havergal.
poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Luke Havergal
Go to the western gate, Luke Havergal,
There where the vines cling crimson on the wall,
And in the twilight wait for what will come.
The leaves will whisper there of her, and some,
Like flying words, will strike you as they fall;
But go, and if you listen she will call.
Go to the western gate, Luke Havergal—
Luke Havergal.
No, there is not a dawn in eastern skies
To rift the fiery night that’s in your eyes;
But there, where western glooms are gathering,
The dark will end the dark, if anything:
God slays Himself with every leaf that flies,
And hell is more than half of paradise.
No, there is not a dawn in eastern skies—
In eastern skies.
Out of a grave I come to tell you this,
Out of a grave I come to quench the kiss
That flames upon your forehead with a glow
That blinds you to the way that you must go.
Yes, there is yet one way to where she is,
Bitter, but one that faith may never miss.
Out of a grave I come to tell you this—
To tell you this.
There is the western gate, Luke Havergal,
There are the crimson leaves upon the wall.
Go, for the winds are tearing them away,—
Nor think to riddle the dead words they say,
Nor any more to feel them as they fall;
But go, and if you trust her she will call.
There is the western gate, Luke Havergal—
Luke Havergal.
poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson from The Children of the Night (1897)
Submitted by anonym
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The Seasons
She leant against an archway where roses fell like a waterfall.
Her delicate hands, her rosebud lips to make a young man blush.
Such is the Spring with its exhilarating essences of budding flowers,
trickling streams, birdsong to make the air zing.
Summer came and she toiled in the garden, digging out weeds,
trimming hedgerows as her skin glowed with colour.
The young man visited her everyday and was even more love struck.
Summer, a time of warmth, fulfilment and happy pleasures.
Autumn crept upon them and before they had a chance to see
love, so hot and lustful mellowed and as it died so did the leaves.
The leaves turned red and golden brown
and then came winter's frosty crown.
Winter frosts and winter snow, winter chills makes fingers glow.
The shortest days, the longest nights suddenly lit with Christmas lights.
Does a lover remember a lustful night
or the touch of her hand in the morning light?
poem by Ruth Walters
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Penny & Me
Cigars in the summertime under the sky by the light
I can feel you read my mind
I can see it in your eyes under the moon as it plays
like music every line
There's a rug with bleeding dye under the fan in the room
Where the passions burning high by the chair
with the leopard skin under the light
It's always Penny and me tonight
On the plane step up with both my feet
Riding in seat number 3 on a flight to NYC
Got my bean in a coffee cup next to my seat
Catch the view and another good book to read
Sending me home on the friendly skies
Missing her eyes
It's always Penny and me tonight
Cause Penny and me like to roll the windows down
Turn the radio up, push the pedal to the ground
And Penny and me like to gaze at starry skies
Close our eyes, pretend to fly
It's always Penny and me tonight
Staring at a million city lights
But it's still Penny and I all alone beneath the sky
Feel the wind brushing slowly by
If I could soar I'd try to take these wings and fly
Away to where the leaves turn red
But no matter where I am instead
Singing along to feeling alright
We'll make it by in the pink moonlight
It's always Penny and me tonight
Cause Penny and me like to roll the windows down
Turn the radio up, push the pedal to the ground
And Penny and me like to gaze at starry skies
Close our eyes, pretend to fly
close our eyes pretend to fly
It's always Penny and me tonight
Penny likes to get away and drown her pain in lemonade
Penny dreams of rainy days and nights up late by the fireplace
And aimless conversations about the better days
Singing along to feeling alright, yeah
We'll make it by in the pink moonlight
It's always Penny and me tonight
Cause Penny and me like to roll the windows down
Turn the radio up, push the pedal to the ground
And Penny and me like to gaze at starry skies
Close our eyes pretend to fly
close our eyes pretend to fly
It's always Penny and me tonight
Penny and me tonight
Penny and me tonight
Penny and me tonight
song performed by by Hanson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Octavian This Time
motionless. this is the circle. you are out.
motionless. open,
parenthesis, i am inside, i am a pause, i am enclosed,
close parenthesis, and you are out. ousted. a bird, a pigeon, born to fly
to get the bud, and tell me, there is peace on the land,
trance. my tongue shrinks inside my throat. i am silent.
i keep things inside. they are gifts of silence. i treasure them
inside my heart, they become my priceless treasures.
my hands. do you touch them like greek gods? what do you offer?
a goat, a calf, a turtledove. rise up, and be a star. reborn,
a chasm, you fall, and you keep on falling,
darkness, and light, getting married in that chasm, and you
are there cradled between them
light. so much light. blindness. gaze. stare. close and sleep.
you ask, where are we? where i am taking you? you ask if i am still
holding your hand?
through your eyes. this is the passage of time. through your eyes.
leaves. flowers. clouds. the sun kissing the mountain top.
let all these stay. in your heart. let them sing about the birds
that build their nests in your dreams.
we arrived. we shall now leave.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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