February Morning
white curtains laced and
see through
over the window down
below
red suntan blooming
beside mahogany tree
a sparrow is singing
upon a twig
a man sitting looking at the view
feeling so new
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

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A View From Here (Part 2)
two days after
the sparrow has a nest
upon a twig
covered by leaves
the other sparrow
waits by the sill of my
window
looking over
a windless view
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

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The Red Suntan In My Wife's Garden
she keeps cutting the stalks of the red suntan
as i watch with disdain
since there will be no more suntan flowers
to view this bright morning in the garden
she notices my obvious disturbing action
and she comes with a clear reaction
saying they must be pruned regularly
for them to give more flowers for the day
it is more like the way God prunes us
albeit there may be pain and even bleeding
but that's the best way for more flowering
the secret to the blooming is in the cutting
and then i ask myself deep in my heart
i must have caused her so much pain
since she has bloomed so well in fact
like the red suntan flowers in our garden
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

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Monologue 1
it was only last night
that i noticed that there were
only two fireflies
lighting the mahogany tree
the other day
they cut the chico
for they need firewood
the little boy once told his mother
that a white fairy lives there
what is the point?
the white fairy owns the tree
and it is only the little boy who believes about this
the chico tree is where the fireflies
sleep in the morning
two fireflies have not accepted
that their dwelling is gone
now they entertain the illusion
that the mahogany
could still be the chico tree
in their own minds.
that is what the legend is.
and you may not believe it.
now that boy does not believe
in white fairies anymore.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

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On A White Bench
at the plaza of this town
fronting the cafe
where i am now writing this poem
i see a white cemented bench
beside a mahogany tree
three men are sitting
they are talking
and i cannot hear them
i am walled
by this glass wall
one wears a white cap
holding a radio
blue faded jeans
and rubber shoes
the second one
a brown subanen native
wearing a white shirt
with a political ads
to vote for mayor dong
the third one
already left before i finished this poem
i could have described him
but i fell short of time and sensitivity
i ask someone beside me
what these three men are up to
they are waiting
they are looking for a job on this hard times
when the price of rice has gone high
together with the gas
i know you want something more than this kind of write
did i keep you waiting too?
tell me did i keep you waiting too for something that you want me to tell you?
i have nothing to tell you
how does it feel to wait, hours perhaps, for something that does not come/
how does it feel to wait
for nothing? tell me, tell me, if you understand now, how is it to sit on a white
bench beside a mahogany tree, in the plaza, in front of an internet cafe
where i write a poem
and nothing nothing really happens
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

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This Early Morning With You Talking And Talking
regret, it is with deep regret that i tell you
that i regret sitting on this
computer chair
and facing the screen
and i am here writing for you
as you talk and talk
and talk and talk
like a quacking duck
oh Adam did not lay eggs,
or have the temerity to hatch them and so the chickens came first
how nice of you
regret that is all i feel now
i could have gone
out and take my walk
i could have read
the most wonderful poetry
of the trail
the line of green mahogany trees
blooming with their summer leaves
the sun finally coming out
with an array of clouds
and white herons
gliding and landing
on ricefields
and grasses creeping
and covering
the mud and the stones
indeed, it would have
been lovelier that way
and i should have
been happier
than simply sitting
and writing
and feeling
what poetry should
not be
this early morning
with you
what a hell!
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

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White sparrow
white sparrow you see me standing
you could kill me without landing
your wing is just as long as a man
you are as cold as a snowy day
you have come here from heaven
you must of as you fight my devil's
your feathers turn slowly black with my sin
and yet you stay beautiful as always
my sin is like a ciggerate it will turn you black inside
but you cannot die as you are one in your own
you came from heaven so your holy arent you
god sent you for me so you must do what you must do
my heart was never red nor white but black
i was born with my sin and also that of my kin
but white sparrow you have taken that from me
and now you are dying you turned black whilst i change to white
oh my lord what a sight it must be to see
a boy like me clean of all carrying a bird of sin
i am carrying you white sparrow your heart is no longer cold
and your body no longer white nor wings large
but white sparrow you will not die, no you will not
for you white sparrow you came from heaven for me
when i picked my child's name people laughed you did not
you looked at my child in his cot and nodded now you cant
for white sparrow you dont belong with me not anymore
your must leave for heaven and recover to help others
so farewell white sparrow il missy you my saviour
now go to that sin filled woman and help her
for white sparrow i will look for you as you continue
for white sparrow i will see you in heaven....goodbye
poem by Daniel Laurence

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The Rain
(rock the joint)
Me i'm supa fly (uh-huh)
Supa dupa fly (uh-huh)
Supa dupa fly
{singing} i can't stand the rain!
(uh) me i'm supa fly (uh-huh)
{singing} 'gainst my window
Supa dupa fly (uh-huh)
Supa dupa fly
{singing} i can't stand the rain!
(uh) me i'm supa fly (uh-huh)
{singing} 'gainst my window
Supa dupa fly (uh-huh)
Supa dupa fly
{singing} i can't stand the rain!
(uh-huh) me i'm supa fly (uh-huh)
{singing} 'gainst my window
When the rain hits my window
I take and {inhale, cough} me some indo
Me and timbaland, ooh, we sang a jangle
We so tight, that you get our styles tango
Sway on dosie-do like you loco
{singing} can we get kinky tonight?
Like coco, so-so
You don't wanna play with my yo-yo
I smoke my hydro on the dee-low
{singing} i can't stand the rain! (uh-huh, uh-huh)
{singing} 'gainst my window (against my window)
{singing} i can't stand the rain! (uh-huh, uh-huh)
{singing} 'gainst my window (against my window)
{singing} i can't stand the rain! (uh-huh, uh-huh)
{singing} 'gainst my window (against my window)
{singing} i can't stand the rain! (uh-huh, uh-huh)
{singing} 'gainst my window (say what?)
Yeah..
Beep beep, who got the keys to the jeep? v-r-rrrrrrrooooom!
(uh-huh) i'm drivin to the beach
Top down, loud sounds, see my peeps (uhh)
Give them pounds, now look who it be (who it be)
It be me me me and timothy (me me!)
Look like it's bout to rain, what a shame (uh-huh)
I got the armor-all to shine up the stain
Oh missy, try to maintain
Icky-icky-icky-icky-icky-icky-icky..
{singing} i can't stand the rain! (uh-huh, uh-huh)
(uh-huh)
{singing} i can't stand the rain! (say what? uh-huh, uh-huh)
{singing} 'gainst my window (uh-huh)
{singing} i can't stand the rain! (uh-huh, uh-huh)
{singing} 'gainst my window (yeah)
{singing} i can't stand the rain! (uh-huh, uh-huh)
{singing} 'gainst my window (uh-huh)
{singing} i can't stand the rain!
I feel the wind
Five six seven, eight nine ten
Begin, i sit on hill's like lauryn
Until the rain starts, comin down, pourin
Chill, i got my umbrella
My finger waves be dazed, they fall like humpty
Chumpy, i break up with him before he dump me
To have me yes you lucky
{singing} i can't stand the rain! (ha, uhh)
{singing} 'gainst my window (uh-huh)
{singing} i can't stand the rain! (uh-huh, uh-huh)
{singing} 'gainst my window (against my window)
{singing} i can't stand the rain! (uh-huh)
{singing} 'gainst my window (what?)
{singing} i can't stand the rain! (uh-huh, uh-huh)
{singing} 'gainst my window (uh)
{singing} i can't stand the rain! (what?)
(like that baby)
{singing} i can't stand the rain! (can you stand the rain?)
(uh-huh, stand the rain)
{singing} i can't stand the rain! (what?)
(can you stand the rain?)
{singing} i can't stand the rain! (can you stand the rain?)
(uh-huh, can you stand the rain?)
{singing} i can't stand the rain! (what?)
{singing} 'gainst my window (uh-huh)
{singing} i can't stand the rain!
{singing} 'gainst my window (huh)
{singing} i can't stand the rain! (hmm..)
{singing} 'gainst my window (yo)
{singing} i can't stand the rain! (why not, break it down like dat)
{singing} 'gainst my window (break it down baby)
{singing} i can't stand the rain! (uh-huh)
(yeah like that, uh-huh)
{singing} i can't stand the rain! (uh, huh)
(uhh.. misdemeanor)
{singing} i can't stand the rain! ..
{singing} i can't stand the rain! .. * fades out *
song performed by by Missy Elliott

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Willy-Wag and Sparrow
Willy-wag and Sparrow
sat on a stone.
Said Willy, it's cold
when the sun is gone.
But my heart beats hot
in my white silk breast;
time enough later
for me to rest.
Said Sparrow, It's dark
in the green willow,
and the cat may lurk
in the shade below.
He fluffed his feathers
and shook his head;
by now the others
are safe in bed.
Said Willy, the sky
is full of light,
and a juicy fly
is quickly caught.
I'll flirt my fan
awhile the cold,
and I won't go in
till the moon is gold.
Said sparrow, the tree
is full by now,
and I'm off to my perch
on the topmost bough.
But Willy said, whether
it's dark or light,
if I feel like singing
I'll sing all night.
poem by Nancy Fotheringham Cato

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And blooming
Blooming blooming
You are blooming.
You are white tulip
You are tube rose
You are passiflora
You are mutabilis
You are marigold
And what not
What not you are.
Your world
Wonderful world
I am
With You
You are blooming
Blooming blooming
And blooming.
poem by Gajanan Mishra

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A Picture Of A Cat
a gray cat on a brown
window sill
blue bird on a
green twig against
a white sky
black man on
a red chair
white butterfly
against a white
eye
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

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I Believe In The Man In The Sky
(words & music by richard howard)
The steps that lead to any church
Form a stairway to a star
Theyre part of God and should be trod
More often than they are
I believe in the man in the sky
I believe with his help Ill get by
My footsteps may falter
My eyes may grow dim
But hes my gibraltar
Im trusting in him
Though a sparrow is all I may be
On me he will still keep an eye
Yes Im singing his praise
Till the end of my days
I believe in the man in the sky
Sparrow, sparrow am i
Keep an eye
Yes Im singing his praise
Till the end of my days
I believe in the man in the sky
song performed by by Elvis Presley

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Under The Lulu Tree (A nonsense poem.)
Sitting under the lulu tree
nothing makes sense at all.
The world feels as if it’s upside down
and any minute you are going to fall off.
I know this all sounds crazy,
but sitting under the lulu tree
is just how you are going to feel.
You will think the moon is green
and filled with cheddar cheese
and if you look out the window, twice
three blind mice will pass
carrying a slice on their knees.
No, I have not been having a tipple
from the good old mountain dew;
I’ve just been sitting under the lulu tree.
Now you have read this nonsense
please come and join me
and we’ll all sit together
under the lulu tree.
18 September 2008
poem by David Harris

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The Phenomenology Of The Sparrow
you have seen a sparrow
on a twig
pulling with its beak
a ripe guava
you have seen how it flies away
after a very short fill
do you feel the freedom of its wings?
do you hear the wind beneath its feathers?
do you wish to capture it on a trap
using a latex sap?
do you wish to catch it with your hands
and feel its softness with your fingers?
when you put it in a cage
is it beautiful
to see it sad and
be not able to fly and to sing
on a beautiful morning?
or is it more beautiful flying with the wind
singing freely its own songs of freedom
rather than be silent
and sad in your very own hands?
have you ever felt
once in your life
that you are a sparrow
too tiny
too soft
too innocent
for another
creature's
cruelty and cunning?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

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Autumn
I love the fitful gust that shakes
The casement all the day,
And from the glossy elm tree takes
The faded leaves away,
Twirling them by the window pane
With thousand others down the lane.
I love to see the shaking twig
Dance till the shut of eve,
The sparrow on the cottage rig,
Whose chirp would make believe
That Spring was just now flirting by
In Summer's lap with flowers to lie.
I love to see the cottage smoke
Curl upwards through the trees,
The pigeons nestled round the cote
On November days like these;
The cock upon the dunghill crowing,
The mill sails on the heath a-going.
The feather from the raven's breast
Falls on the stubble lea,
The acorns near the old crow's nest
Drop pattering down the tree;
The grunting pigs, that wait for all,
Scramble and hurry where they fall.
poem by John Clare (1865)

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Bliss Remembered....
a rose
in a white porcelain vase
on top of
a glazed
wooden table
showered with
the early morning light
from the laced
window
while you were
still sleeping soundly
in bed
two yellow birds
chirp
on the sill
of the window
i am at
peace
beside you
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

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Just A Request To My Ex
move on
don't mind me
i know how to manage a break-up
i am invulnerable and i have had lots of them all: miseries
tomorrow i move on with my life too
i'll be this sparrow with another sparrow perching on a tree
building a new nest again on one of the branches of the this lushing tree
may i make one request though and i will be honest with you
find another, someone more tender unlike my unkindness and indifference
don't you be another dove all alone on the electric wires of the field
the hunters may see you and feeling so guilty me shoot and kill you
honey please, move on with your life, take another chance
i want to take this thorn piercing in my heart, i want you out of my system.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

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About The Sparrow In The Park
that there was once a sparrow
in the park
Papa and I never had the
time seeing it
we did not spend time
together
sitting in the park
viewing a sparrow in front of us
i never had the chance
asking him about the sparrow
neither did he.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

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Window
I was staring out the window
The whole time he was talking to me
It was a filthy pane of glass
I couldn't get a clear view
As he went on and on
It wasn't the outside world I could see
Just the filthy pane that I was looking through
So I had to break the window
It just had to be
Better that I break the window
Than him or her or me
I was never focused on just one thing
My eyes got fixed when my mind got soft
It may looked like I'm concentrated on a very clear view
But I'm as good as asleep
I bet you didn't know
It takes a lot of it away if you do
So I had to break the window
It just had to be
Better that I break the window
Than him or her or me
So I had to break the window
It just had to be
Better that I break the window
Than him or her or me
Because the fact in fact
Whatevers in front of me is covering my view
So I can't see what I'm seeing in fact
I only see what I'm looking through
I had to break the window
It just had to be it was in my way
Better that I break the window
Then forget what I had to say
So again I've done the right thing
I was never worried about that
The answer's always been in clear view
But even when the window's clean
I still can't see for the fact
That when it's clean it's so clear
I cant tell what I'm looking through
So I had to break the window
It just had to be
Better that I break the window
Than him or her or me
I had to break the window
It just had to be it was in my way
Better that I break the window
Then forget what I had to say
I had to break the window
It was in my way
Better that I break a window
Then forget what I had to say
Or miss what I should see
Or breaking him or her or me
song performed by by Fiona Apple

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Watching For Pa
Three little forms in the twilight gray,
Searching the shadows across the way;
Two pair of black eyes, and one of blue --
Brimful of love, and of mischief too;
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Sitting by the window,
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Sitting by the window,
Watching for Pa!
May, with her placid and thoughtful brow,
Beaming with kindness and love just now;
Willie the youngest, in anguish did lay,
Stealing sly kisses from sister May,
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Sitting by the window,
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Sitting by the window,
Watching for Pa!
Nellie, with ringlets of sunny hue,
Cosily nested between the two;
Pressing her cheeks to the window pane,
Wishing the absent one home again.
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Sitting by the window,
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Sitting by the window,
Watching for Pa!
Now there are shouts from the window seat;
There is a patter of childish feet;
Gaily they rush through the lighted hall --
"Coming at last" is the joyful call.
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Standing on the doorstep,
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Watching for Pa!
Standing on the doorstep,
Watching for Pa!
poem by Henry Clay Work

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Sparrow
Who will love a little sparrow
Who's traveled far and cries for rest?
"Not I," said the Oak Tree
"I won't share my branches with no sparrow's nest
And my blanket of leaves won't warm her cold breast"
Who will love a little sparrow
And who will speak a kindly word?
"Not I," said the Swan
"The entire idea is utterly absurd
I'd be laughed at and scorned if the other swans heard."
Who will take pity in his heart
And who will feed a starving sparrow?
"Not I," said the Golden Wheat
"I would if I could but I cannot I know
I need all my grain to prosper and grow"
Who will love a little sparrow?
Will no one write her eulogy?
"I will," said the Earth
"For all I've created returns unto me
From dust were ye made and dust ye shall be
song performed by by Simon & Garfunkel

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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