For All The Treasures I See
for all the treasures i see
rain, forests, sun, clouds,
green fields, high mountains
waterfalls, white sandy shorelines,
rock formations, mountain mists,
a perfect sunset
a glorious sunrise
the ivory piano keys,
the 33-seater dining table
the paintings from italy
some marble mosaic
the glass windows from rome
the sculpted wood
the persian carpets
the octopus hangings
dancing lights
all these are nothing
treasures of mankind
his capacity for greed
materialism, consumerism,
his leanings for corruption
and avarice and instincts
for preservation
the reputation and fame
all these treasures fade
against the light of one
pure, clean heart
that i am still searching
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Tacloban At The Santo Nino Shrine
what i saw was the luxury of the past
ivory birds, octupus chandeliers,
chekoslovakian furnitures
russian dolls and persian carpets
these are all found here
icons of Christ and the Holy Virgin Mary
in marble chips from Italy
the paintings of Malakas and Maganda
the banig walls that took two years of polish and paste
it is totally a different world
thirty-seaters or twenty seaters
of chosen dignataries for dining
and dancing the wide halls
of this palace
the tourist guide guides us to different rooms
of this country of fools
each with an austrian mirror
polished black and white floors
the chosen hard wood and the glossy varnishes
these
all these
the people have suffered
in poverty and too much confusion of the times
what have we got now?
we have this trauma, of
never again
everything is dust.
everyone is dust
i am going back to the past
perhaps i shall bleed again,
cry...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Fields Of Gold
There are fields of Gold behind the little house
Filled with the greatest of treasures
Bronze, Gold and Silver
Do you remember?
Remember our childhood, Our life’s
The shinning Silver sparkling in the skies
The brightest Bronze hidden under the ground
The greatest Gold glimmering through the fields
Can you see them?
Picture it in your mind
All the times we danced
Every time we laughed
Where we used to love
Or have you forgotten?
Forgotten the good, Forgotten the bad
Every memory
Every moment
Every word
I wish you’d remember
To turn back time, So you could take me
Take me to the gold
To the fields on a summers day
To our fields, our treasure
The Silver, The Bronze
The Gold
But the treasures gone
The house still remains
The fields just as empty as the day we left
Times have changed
Our life’s have changed
Our Silver gone dull
Our Bronze all rusted
Our Gold long forgotten
It was never there
The winds of time and turns of the earth have seen to that
But I remember
I cry for the children who found the greatest of treasures and those who lost it so soon after
And I dream of dancing and singing and running and laughter, of the treasures that lie in the fields of Gold.
poem by Carrie Halliday
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Lost Treasures
In an instant, all can vanish
For none can hold on to these
The tangible things we cherish
Like sand from our hands released.
Treasures of this earth so fleeting
A temporary worth they hold
Lost in fire, water, or shaking
They always leave us in the cold.
Real treasures lost in age
Man's faith and love for fellowmen
Replaced by greed and violent rage
Taking from one, whatever they can.
Lost treasures are human values
Perseverance, Hope, and Honor -
Dignity in work and Patience,
Love for all, whatever their color.
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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Miles Away
Miles away, when I begin to think of the unanswerable,
I see sparkles emitting,
I envision immense treasures at the end of the tunnel.Miles away, even adages whisper incessantly that 'the grass is always greener at the end of the fence'.
What lies behind this mystery?
Days after days, years after years and miles over miles.
Hoping the toil becomes replenished while the anonymous remains daring ever. Miles away, when entitlements woefully shiver in the palms and egos go high, dreams will always be dreams.Miles which are longer-stretched as in breadth. I relish to see the dusk in the dawn and the sunset in sunrise.Even though some treasures are in farther reaches. Mileages can't wither our aspirations. Never! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
poem by Prince Kenny Osei
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Inebriation
High on the stony mountain,
Swathed in fog,
Sounds a chilling, lonely gong.
I wander through the valleys,
Through the villages and trees,
And past still pools,
Searching for somewhere I lost.
Far beyond those mountains,
Once it lay,
My somewhere, that I forgot
In the bottom of a glass.
I left there, and my mind was full
Of that mountain fog,
And now I cannot remember where ‘twas.
There was sunlight there,
Of this I am certain.
No misty valleys, no clouded hills.
It was flat, and full of light,
And clouds, and dancing people.
But I lost it,
And I fear I shall never return.
poem by Sophia White
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In The Harbour: Prelude
As treasures that men seek,
Deep buried in sea-sands,
Vanish if they but speak,
And elude their eager hands,
So ye escape and slip,
O songs, and fade away,
When the word is on my lip
To interpret what ye say.
Were it not better, then,
To let the treasures rest
Hid from the eyes of men,
Locked in their iron chest?
I have but marked the place,
But half the secret told,
That, following this slight trace,
Others may find the gold.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Slow Movement
All those treasures that lie in the little bolted box whose tiny space is
Mightier than the room of the stars, being secret and filled with dreams:
All those treasures—I hold them in my hand—are straining continually
Against the sides and the lid and the two ends of the little box in which I guard them;
Crying that there is no sun come among them this great while and that they weary of shining;
Calling me to fold back the lid of the little box and to give them sleep finally.
But the night I am hiding from them, dear friend, is far more desperate than their night!
And so I take pity on them and pretend to have lost the key to the little house of my treasures;
For they would die of weariness were I to open it, and not be merely faint and sleepy
As they are now.
poem by William Carlos Williams
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At Low Tide
at low tide
try walking on the shallow water
now be surprised
for you can see the edible snails
the treasures of the sea
right at your feet
ready for your picking
it is what happens too
at the lowest ebb
of your life
keep on going then
for the same treasures
shall lay beside your feet
keep looking
just keep looking
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Beachcombing
As the tide retreats, it leaves behind
Once hidden treasures, for folk to find.
Left revealed, is a long strip of shiny, wet sand,
Where treasures, now at their journey’s end, will land.
By the sea, small pieces of glass have been ground,
Leaving their once sharp edges, smooth and round.
There are a few fallen feathers from visiting gulls.
Smooth, egg-shaped pebbles – both shiny and dull.
Shells of all shapes, such as cones, conches, and scallops,
Are washed ashore by the powerful sea, as it gallops.
There are lions’ paws, kings’ crowns, tulips, angel wings,
Slipper shells, jewel boxes, moon snails and other things.
Sugar Kelp, Bladderwrack and Dead Man’s Fingers,
Are some of the seaweeds which, on the shore, linger.
The sight of numerous pieces of discarded litter,
Leaves behind a taste, in my mouth, that is bitter.
Pieces of driftwood, many with interesting shapes,
From the endlessly shifting sea, make their escape.
If, along a sandy beach, you take a relaxing wander,
There are many treasures on which you can ponder.
Folk can while away many an hour of pleasure,
Sifting amongst all the newly arrived treasure.
An hour or two spent exploring a sandy cove,
Can potentially reveal a whole treasure trove.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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There Is No Way That You Can Look At The Mountain
Mountain high
say Hi
To its silent heights
To its deep forest
To its hidden treasures
To its undiscovered wild orchids
Say Hi
To the mountain High
That is the only way to be There
And then You
Start the Climb
Looking inside your Feet
Then Focus up to the nearest Cloud
Through the Fog
and Mist
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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When we find something new at Giza, we announce it to the world. The Sphinx and the Pyramids are world treasures. We are the guardian's of these treasures, but they belong to the world.
quote by Zahi Hawass
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Contrasts
cemented pavements
green grass
sounds of motorized cabs
songs of birds on the trees
towering skyscrapers
tall old mahogany trees
neon lights on city escapes
stars on moonlit skies
watching the mountains half covered with
morning mists
busy on TV for the serial stories
strolling on the white sandy beach
observing the behavior of seagulls
window shopping at the malls
watching 3D movies
eating deep fried chicken wings
licking very sweet strawberry ice cream
peeling the ripe mango
savoring the yellow juice feeling the pulp
watching the sunset from a high mountain
reading a best seller novel inside your room.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The House of Treasures
There is a house filled with treasures
Many strife to enter and get a sit
But the sits are reserved for only a few
War begin in the land as they crave to enter
They inflicted injury on some
Damaged the properties of some
And even eliminated others
Who their chances of getting in debar
And now the house of treasure still remains
Occupied by thieves and murderers
Plowing the treasures into foreign accounts
Living in luxurious houses and bullet proof cars
Their neighbours can live in a hut
And ride rickety bicycles in empty stomachs
If it were easy they would try their luck
Next time there is the call
To enter into the house of treasures
poem by Anthony Seyi Abiodun
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This Heart that Flutters Near My Heart
This heart that flutters near my heart
My hope and all my riches is,
Unhappy when we draw apart
And happy between kiss and kiss:
My hope and all my riches -- - yes! -- -
And all my happiness.
For there, as in some mossy nest
The wrens will divers treasures keep,
I laid those treasures I possessed
Ere that mine eyes had learned to weep.
Shall we not be as wise as they
Though love live but a day?
poem by James Joyce
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Get Unstuck
Leaves from the Tree of Life;
brown and withered,
dried with growing old,
dislodged by the touch of Time;
or green,
with veins still swelling
with rising sap,
torn free by an untimely wind.
What are they,
these dancing treasures?
The more the tree creates,
pushing and budding
out of reaching, branching fingers,
the more they spiral down
and spin and congregate
like giant midges
in every gust and eddy.
What are they,
these dancing treasures
separating
from the Tree of Life?
Thoughts. Thoughts. Thoughts.
Each contains in its form
the whole tree.
Each contains in its form
nothing
the denuded tree
cannot do without.
Spiralling, spinning,
congregating,
they clog drains
and streams
and waterways;
make paths treacherous.
Good for nothing
but rotting down
and feeding
the insatiable hunger,
the thousand breathing mouths
of the sangsara!
poem by Brian Taylor
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The devil's diplomat
And so, dear soul,
you've reached this place called death.
You lived your life of avarice and opulence;
then you gasped at your last breath.
You see these gates of gold and ivory,
they were created just for you and me.
For you and I are so alike sweet one.
You've always loved the warmth of a fiery sun.
The weather here is sunny all the time.
Even the rain is warm on your face
and the sheets you'll sleep on are made of lace.
Or would you rather a better place?
Let me tempt you in dear soul departed
or be from these treasures forever parted.
I am the devils diplomat,
come, step upon the welcome mat.
poem by Ruth Walters
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Bird’s Song
Swim through oceans of air
Birds keep time up there
And spend their days winging
Through forests of clouds, singing
Hymns of nature’s style
Fluttering away all the while
Dancing with angels in the sky
Dancing, dancing as they fly
Through fields of blue
Just to sing their song for you.
Mountains of clouds all about
Saviors in times of drought
Gather up the tears you cry
Into your reservoir in the sky
And listen to the birds sing
Listen for the song in everything
From the forests to the sea
From the bird to the bee
Listen and the song is there
Nature sings everywhere.
The sun rejoices each new day
But it rises in the usual way
To wake up the world with beams of light
And to conquer the darkness of night
But still the birds sing their song
A tribute to the day that’s long
And travel through fields of blue
Just to sing their song for you
And then when all has gone away
They’ll sing for you some other day.
poem by Jamie Collins
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Cowboys Delight
This song appears on two albums, and was first released on the windsong album, and has also been released on the country classics album.
Sing songs of the sunrise into the night
The stars as your timepiece, make it all right
Make friends with the darkness, talk to the moon
And when the light lifts, you can let out a tune
Ive been to the mountains, climbed through the sky
Shouldered their whiteness, watched their gold fly
Shared in their treasures, shook at their might
Spoke softly of wonders, cowboys delight
Sing songs of the sunrise into the night
A song of the mountain, cowboys delight
The stars as your timepiece will make it all right
Sing songs of the mountains, cowboys delight
By bob carpenter and david holster
song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ocean of Treasures!
An ocean of treasures nurtures
no greed or anger or any such
feelings for the sting rays of
a blazed up sun or for the conspiring
eastern black clouds....
August 6,2009
poem by Ajay Pisharody
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Treasures You Could Have
You will never come to understand,
From where...
Treasures you could have,
Come from to exist.
Too busy you are sniffing and scratching,
On a surface.
Without a thought,
Of probing below it.
You will never come to understand,
From where...
Treasures you could have,
Come from to exist.
Somehow, someone...
Somewhere from your past,
Has convinced you...
Others will come along to lead you to it.
And...
Without interest to spark your curiosity,
You've been waiting to be invited to the ball.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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