Enumerations...
not those flowers,
never those summers,
not those rivers, not the sea,
never the ocean
neither the continents nor
the islands
neither the clouds nor the
skies neither the space
nor the galaxies
the grain of sand, a leaf,
adrift,
a pond, and the old frog,
never the storms or the
winds,
neither the alligators nor
the hammers
it is the stone, a butterfly,
a speck of
dust....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
Szymborska 's Miniature Worlds
'You can find the entire cosmos lurking in its least remarkable objects.'
a grain of sand
a speck of dust
a vein of the leaf
little twilights
finally me.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Coyote and Frog (Native American)
Coyote and his friends walked to a pond
But found Frog and his clan now living there.
“This pond is small for all of us, ” Frog said.
“ Find water of your own. We cannot share.”
“If you will let us drink our fill and bathe,
I’ll get you a warm blanket and a blue stone
That’s bigger than your fist, ” Coyote offered.
When Frog agreed, Coyote went for them alone.
Frog took the gifts and led them to the pond.
Later as they left Frog laughed, “Good trade! ”
In fact, Coyote stole the gifts from Thunderbird,
Now furiously tracking prints the thief had made.
Coyote returned next day to find the Frog clan dead.
He took his people to the pond. “Good trade, ” he said.
poem by Chuck Toll
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Back To Basics
the shadows of trees
against the gray skies
there is no one here
except the white storks
and some sparrows
taking their wings
i wait for the right timing
when the sun rises
some leaves are falling
so gently on the cover of grass
a caterpillar takes its bites
on the leaf
a frog jumps on the pond
some tadpoles follow
the clouds drift away
a new day is just born
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Sad Day
a garden of stone
a butterfly long gone
a dry leaf
afloat on the pond
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Every Grain Of Sand
In the time of my confession, in the hour of my deepest need
When the pool of tears beneath my feet flood every newborn seed
Theres a dyin voice within me reaching out somewhere,
Toiling in the danger and in the morals of despair.
Dont have the inclination to look back on any mistake,
Like cain, I now behold this chain of events that I must break.
In the fury of the moment I can see the masters hand
In every leaf that trembles, in every grain of sand.
Oh, the flowers of indulgence and the weeds of yesteryear,
Like criminals, they have choked the breath of conscience and good cheer.
The sun beat down upon the steps of time to light the way
To ease the pain of idleness and the memory of decay.
I gaze into the doorway of temptations angry flame
And every time I pass that way I always hear my name.
Then onward in my journey I come to understand
That every hair is numbered like every grain of sand.
I have gone from rags to riches in the sorrow of the night
In the violence of a summers dream, in the chill of a wintry light,
In the bitter dance of loneliness fading into space,
In the broken mirror of innocence on each forgotten face.
I hear the ancient footsteps like the motion of the sea
Sometimes I turn, theres someone there, other times its only me.
I am hanging in the balance of the reality of man
Like every sparrow falling, like every grain of sand.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Every Grain Of Salad
(bob dylan)
In the time of my confession, in the hour of my deepest need
When the pool of tears beneath my feet flood every newborn seed
Theres a dyin voice within me reaching out somewhere,
Toiling in the danger and in the morals of despair.
Dont have the inclination to look back on any mistake,
Like cain, I now behold this chain of events that I must break.
In the fury of the moment I can see the masters hand
In every leaf that trembles and, in every grain of sand.
Oh, the flowers of indulgence and the weeds of yesteryear,
Like criminals, they have choked the breath of conscience and good cheer.
The sun beat down upon the steps of time to light the way
To ease the pain of idleness and the memory of decay.
I gaze into the doorway of temptations angry flame
And every time I pass that way I always hear my name.
Then onward in my journey I come to understand
That every hair is numbered like every grain of sand.
I have gone from rags to riches in the sorrow of the night
In the violence of a summers dream, in the chill of a wintry light,
In the bitter dance of loneliness fading into space,
In the broken mirror of innocence on each forgotten face.
I hear the ancient footsteps like the motion of the sea
Sometimes I turn, theres someone there, other times its only me.
I am hanging in the balance of a perfect finished plan
Like every sparrow falling, like every grain of sand
song performed by by Emmylou Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Conspiracy
A haggard hawk drops
A stone on the pond
Making a ring wave tricky trap
A fed up frog jumps up
Thinking of a drop
Hope of new life and rain
Swamps down quickly a crane
Making a feast out of the frog
Pond can't punish the culprits
Begs pardon with folded hands.
poem by Abdul Wahab
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That Part Of A Whole
it is a tiny part
as tiny as a grain of sand
you hardly give it
attention
you keep on saying
what is in this grain of sand
that philosophers
say contain this universe
something so tiny
yet to contain everything
and so you hold the grain of sand
against the light
and revolve it around your fingers
little finger planets
to the sun grain of sand
you cannot believe what you
felt and saw
and so you throw away that grain
of sand to the air
eating it like a big mouthed monsters
you are lost
your world dissolves
like ice
you turn to air
and there you are
gone.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Last Split Second
Sometimes in the heat of despair
we lost sight of perspective
It bends and curves and distorts
Like light round a black hole
and what we think of as truth is wildy out of proportion
yes the grains of truth are there running through the narrow waist of our preception
but each individual speck is not the beach, the beach is more than grains of sand
is this your last split second? will you spend it looking at a grain of sand or at the beach?
poem by Jilted BUTTERFLY
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Our Paranoia
the uncured disease of mankind had always been
that the earth is the center of the universe
that man is at the center of all these
that he is loved by the skies and the seas and the mountains
that i am the center of your attraction
or that i have loved you truly too
these are the demands of illusions
the sun is just one of the thousand stars
though it may be true that it is the center of our universe
that you may have loved me truly and i may think that i am the only
star in your universe
how hopeless can i be thinking that way
when the truth is just i am just a dust, a speck of this vast space of dusts
one night i stand in the middle of the grass and looked at the stars
i feel so far and so tiny just like Venus that planet that glitters in the north.
human love is as small as a grain of sand, yet somehow we imagine that
as a Saturn in the planetary system.
i am not saying the truth that indeed we are nothing but an empty sigh.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Storms In Africa: Part I (LP Version)
Roma Ryan
Though I walk through
warm sands in Africa
winds will grow soon
to storms in Africa.
How far to go
I cannot say.
How many more
will journey this way?
Dark skies fall on
black earth and ivory.
Far from your sun
clouds now close over me
How far to go
I cannot say.
How many more
will journey this way?
Storms have come!
rains wash the earth away
Dark skies fall down
into another day.
Rains have now come
from storms in Africa
Time will go on
through Storms in Africa
song performed by by Enya
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Storms In Africa - Part Ii
Though I walk through
Warm sands in africa
Winds will grow soon
To storms in africa.
How far to go
I cannot say.
How many more
Will journey this way?
Dark skies fall on
Black earth and ivory.
Far from your sun
Clouds now close over me.
How far to go
I cannot say.
How many more
Will journey this way?
Storms have come!
Rains wash the earth away
Dark skies fall down
Into another day.
Rains have now come
From storms in africa
Time will go on
Through storms in africa
song performed by by Enya
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wow, Philippines
this country
is blessed with lush rainforest
harboring
a variety of tropical
flora and fauna
huge ferns
multicolored birds
fishes and
butterfies
crossed by multiple navigable rivers
san juanico bridge
mc arthur park
clear waters
crystalline
bluer clouds
shining sun
blooming flowers
pocked by mysterious caverns
and refreshing waterfalls
atop a wooden raft
some ropes
and splashes
how could i ever ignore
this country
my country
my town
that now i am traveling
always like
a stranger
saying
wow, wow, philippines!
come my friends
we must try again
remembering the fresher times
of rivers and seas
and clouds and skies
wow, wow, philippines
i have never been
and yet so near
the islands of my dreams
now these realities
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Parable
a frog, always the frog
has always been a frog
servant to the fog, but
one frog one day decides
to be a bull to the dismay
of the frogs in that little pond
to the ridicule of the bulls
nearby but the frog learns
to be a bull and bully has
he become until one day
he gains the respect of the
other bulls to the pleasure
of the sun to the disdain
of the fog on the hills
nothing is impossible
to the power of the mind
this the frog follows
through and through
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Production Line
much is much and
so many is like sand sprawling
on the shore... so much so many
and one who lays her body on
the sandy shore
takes sand for granted just another
part of this mass production of
things in her ordinary world: rocks, pebbles, stones,
sands,
what value can there be on a speck of dust
a grain of sand
becomes like her sun, too ordinary for her sunburn-skin
what's got the sun to do with me?
or the sand?
her sunglasses speak for her
in the middle of her empty hours
basking under the sun
production some times, so much for so many
meaninglessness growing like fruits of the poisonous tree
i could have kept one, just one
kept it inside my heart, i could have known what is precious,
diamond, just one,
glittering in the darkest hour of my night.
but there is no one really, all i have are mass produced, and
like sand, i lay my body on the shore, spreading so thinly without
feelings.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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See The Lights
Summers gone winters in your eyes
I can feel the thunder storms inside
I wake every morning and the cold winds cover me
All Ive gots a ghost of what could be
If you can see the lights shine in front of me
If you can see the lights shout out where youll be
Im in a broken dream I stare out into space
You know I called you up cos nothing takes your place
Ive got a heart of stone and its sinking deep inside
I want to tell you love Im too proud to cry
If you can see the lights shine in front of me
If you can see the lights shout out where youll be
Summers gone and I cant tell you lies
Oh forgive me love Im too proud to cry
If you can see the lights shine in front of me
If you can see the lights shout out where youll be
Summers gone and I cant tell you lies
Forgive me love Im too proud to cry
Too proud to cry
Too proud to cry
Too proud to cry
Written by : kerr/burchill reproduced without permission
song performed by by Simple Minds
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Frog
There stands upon a leaf,
A tiny frog,
With yellow skin,
And large round eyes,
In search of insects-food!
The little frog can camouflage,
And appear dead,
Or look like flowers,
To escape foes,
And predators that strike.
Like energized spring-box,
The frog can leap;
The frog can fly;
The frog won’t fall,
As they hold on
To weeds and stalks of plants.
Oh, what a queer Amphibian
Are frogs born free!
Some are big too;
Their tongues are long,
And so sticky;
They flick it out and catch their prey.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 3-12-2008
poem by John Celes
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Phileas the Frog
Phileas the frog was awfully large -
To see the muscle in his thighs -
A sight bedazzling to your eyes!
With plenty there to feed a town -
If you would dare to take him down!
Phileas the frog could tow a barge.
One hefty bound could clear a tree -
A scary sight I'll guarantee!
And something else to make me dread:
Were he to land upon my head!
Phileas the frog was known as 'Sarge -'
Accounted by that massive chest.
No other frog would care to jest
That tidy Phileas!
So if you've sense and know your place -
And hold some value to your face,
Then don't get supercilious
With Phileas!
Copyright © Mark Raymond Slaughter 2009
All rights reserved.
Frog frog frog frog frog frog frog frog
Frog frog frog frog frog frog frog frog
Frog frog frog frog frog frog frog frog
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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About A Stone Without A Door
you are telling me about a stone
who refuses to admit anyone simply
because it has no door, no room and no space
for someone like you,
you who does not even know what knowing someone
really means. you ask the stone for a space and it says no
and you tell the stone that it has a space
where the leaf and a dropp of water live
the stone says no, and you insist because of the state you are in
you are dying and you need a place
perhaps a burial space where you may finally lay yourself
to rest, but the stone still says no, telling you that it has
no feelings that for centuries it has always been its nature
stony, stony silence, stony stares, unfeeling, that in its
house of stone, there exists no word for sympathy
that it is simply living up to the demands of its true nature
its tradition, and you finally understand, yet somehow you
tell the stone about what it does not know
inside it there is this leaf with dew, there is dropp of water
coming from the rain, that until now it has not fully known,
that inside its stony silence, there is still this song
that it has a heart that it keeps denying.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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339
you are telling me about a stone
who refuses to admit anyone simply
because it has no door, no room and no space
for someone like you,
you who does not even know what knowing someone
really means. you ask the stone for a space and it says no
and you tell the stone that it has a space
where the leaf and a dropp of water live
the stone says no, and you insist because of the state you are in
you are dying and you need a place
perhaps a burial space where you may finally lay yourself
to rest, but the stone still says no, telling you that it has
no feelings that for centuries it has always been its nature
stony, stony silence, stony stares, unfeeling, that in its
house of stone, there exists no word for sympathy
that it is simply living up to the demands of its true nature
its tradition, and you finally understand, yet somehow you
tell the stone about what it does not know
inside it there is this leaf with dew, there is dropp of water
coming from the rain, that until now it has not fully known,
that inside its stony silence, there is still this song
that it has a heart that it keeps denying.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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