From A 9-year Old Child To His Mama...
I was the one who
uprooted your
blooming red African daisies
that morning when
you walked to attend the
funeral of
Uncle Aldong
when you arrived that afternoon
from the silent city
all the African daisies
have already wilted
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Red African Daisies
these red African daisies
that i carry in my hand
remind me of mother
and her anger
for once i was her son
and i uprooted all the African daisies
from her garden
and let them all die under the sun
that was during the middle of Lent
when Christ they say suffered and
finally died. That was the time
when knew for once what rebellion was.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Daisies All Over My Body
let daisies rain on
me and let all the daisies
cover my face my body
let daisies crown my head
my hair, my nose, let there
be daisies everywhere
inside, outside me
i am in love.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Field Of Yellow Daisies
We met in a field of yellow daisies
Wild and young and free
And she picked a bouquet for me
She loved me...she loved me not
The daisies didn't lie
They knew better than I...she'd go away..yeah
But they didn't say why
Have you ever been in a field of yellow daisies
Where the air is warm, pure and sweet
Just as if the world is at your feet
She loved me...she loved me not
The daisies didn't lie
They knew better than I
She'd go away.....yeah
But they didn't say why
I may fail like petals from a daisy
But for her love I'll always yearn
Each year when yellow daisies return
She loved me...she loved me not
The daisies didn't lie
They knew better than I
She'd go away.....yeahhhh
But they didn't say why
They didn't say why
They didn't say why
They didn't say why
They didn't say why
They didn't say why
They didn't say why.........
song performed by by Tom Jones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Two Distant Worlds
who does not like to put some
yellow daisies on your black glossy hair?
you become so beautiful with a chain of yellow
daisies in your hair
where i can possibly touch them and caress them
and how would you know that this is more than just putting a chain of
daisies in your black hair?
you shall never know and that is good enough for me
for i am the simplest man that puts those chain of yellow daisies in your hair
no prince charming for you, nothing special
just another common friend putting those usual yellow daisies in your hair
when our hands touch by accident
how would you know that i have become a forest burning?
this burning fire that is softly killing me
how would you know? your world is open and mine is closed.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Mother-Daughter Love
Among the daisies
sat the child,
looking so ever
meek and mild.
Mother sat down
by the child,
looked at her daughter
and sweetly smiled.
Picking the daisies
with the child,
from those gathered
a chain was stylized.
Around the neck
of the child,
she placed the chain
of daisies wild.
Touching the daisies
the deaf child,
looked at her mother
and sweetly smiled.
poem by Noline A.V. Johnson
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for Nikki
no one can stop
the daisies from blooming
the sun on an early morning
always is there
to understand so now
prepare the desired colors
of your petals
show them
don't just wilt and die
without the touch of
sunshine
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Garden
She has a bed of daisies
she waters every day.
She knows when they start blooming
she’ll be far away
The water can she keeps filling,
the daisies are never dry
and their memory of her she is growing
til the day of her goodbye
Setting down the watering can.
It’s come now- way too soon.
Four days left to enjoy
this beauty she has brewed.
No twist of fate can end this need
to leave the place of love,
with all this tender care she’s given,
can she receive no compassion from above?
This morning came a joyous triumph
-the first bud is half bloomed.
Not as much can be said for the siblings
who grow taller –oh what a view.
They love her so and they don’t know
that in a few days she will leave.
BUT understand, when she comes back again,
none of their beauty can she retrieve.
And that is what makes her
so sad and alone
for these flowers she has dutifully cared,
And she won’t be home
when they become full-grown
of their condition on her return she is scared.
poem by D.M.L. Catseye
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Double Red Daisies
Double red daisies, they’re my flowers,
Which nobody else may grow.
In a big quarrelsome house like ours
They try it sometimes—but no,
I root them up because they’re my flowers,
Which nobody else may grow.
Claire has a tea-rose, but she didn’t plant it;
Ben has an iris, but I don’t want it.
Daisies, double red daisies for me,
The beautifulest flowers in the garden.
Double red daisy, that’s my mark:
I paint it in all my books!
It’s carved high up on the beech-tree bark,
How neat and lovely it looks!
So don’t forget that it’s my trade mark;
Don’t copy it in your books.
Claire has a tea-rose, but she didn’t plant it;
Ben has an iris, but I don’t want it.
Daisies, double red daisies for me,
The beautifulest flowers in the garden.
poem by Robert Graves
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Two Kopjes
(Made Yeomanry towards End of Boer War)
Only two African kopjes,
Only the cart-tracks that wind
Empty and open between 'em,
Only the Transvaal behind;
Only an Aldershot column
Marching to conquer the land . . .
Only a sudden and solemn
Visit, unarmed, to the Rand.
Then scorn not the African kopje,
The kopje that smiles in the heat,
The wholly unoccupied kopje,
The home of Cornelius and Piet.
You can never be sure of your kopje,
But of this be you blooming well sure,
A kopje is always a kopje,
And a Boojer is always a Boer!
Only two African kopjes,
Only the vultures above,
Only baboons--at the bottom,
Only some buck on the move;
Only a Kensington draper
Only pretending to scout . . .
.Only bad news for the paper,
Only another knock-out.
Then mock not the African kopje,
And rub not your flank on its side,
The silent and simmering kopje,
The kopje beloved by the guide.
You can never be, etc.
Only two African kopjes,
Only the dust of their wheels,
Only a bolted commando,
Only our guns at their heels . . .
Only a little barb-wire,
Only a natural fort,
Only "by sections retire,"
Only "regret to report! "
Then mock not the .African kopje,
Especially when it is twins,
One sharp and one table-topped kopje
For that's where the trouble begins.
You never can be, etc.
Only two African kopjes
Baited the same as before--
Only we've had it so often,
Only we're taking no more . . .
Only a wave to our troopers,
Only our flanks swinging past,
Only a dozen voorloopers,.
Only we've learned it at last!
Then mock not the African kopje,
But take off your hat to the same,
The patient, impartial old kopje,
The kopje that taught us the game!
For all that we knew in the Columns,
And all they've forgot on the Staff,
We learned at the Fight o' Two Kopjes,
Which lasted two years an' a half.
0 mock not the African kopje,
Not even when peace has been signed--
The kopje that isn't a kopje--
The kopje that copies its kind.
You can never be sure of your kopje,
But of this be you blooming well sure,
That a kopje is always a kopje,
And a Boojer is always a Boer!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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About Grandmother...
at 90
grandma was left alone
sometime in
1970
she lost her mind
walked down the stairs of the house
and fell
on the big rattan basket fit
for the
coconuts
when she died there was
a grand funeral
her niche was covered by
daisies
her picture when she was young
was best
the neighborhood was so
impressed
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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African Moon
African moon
Roll with the mighty waves
Well be there soon
Feel the winds as we sail on home to african moon
African moon
My heart beats like the drum
Now it is noon
Loved ones we left behind Ill see again
African moon
African moon
I will see you once more
Yes again Ill adore the real sound of the drum
Oh yes Im sailing feel your hot sun
African moon
African moon
Looking out to the sea
A reunion therell be in the evening sun
Oh theres a new life thats awaiting me
African moon
African moon
This land is my rightful home
Well never roam
Youll weep fou your sons no more and daughters
African moon
Hold up your head
One day youll be understood
Stand and be proud
Your sorrows are gone for good
Hold up your head
And youll be satisfied!
song performed by by Boney M.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Daisies
IN THE scented bud of the morning—O,
When the windy grass went rippling far,
I saw my dear one walking slow,
In the field where the daisies are.
We did not laugh and we did not speak
As we wandered happily to and fro;
I kissed my dear on either cheek,
In the bud of the morning—O.
A lark sang up from the breezy land,
A lark sang down from a cloud afar,
And she and I went hand in hand
In the field where the daisies are.
poem by James Stephens
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Wild Asters
In the spring I asked the daisies
If his words were true,
And the clever, clear-eyed daisies
Always knew.
Now the fields are brown and barren,
Bitter autumn blows,
And of all the stupid asters
Not one knows.
poem by Sara Teasdale
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In fact, the Harvard study data indicates that 70 percent of African American children attend schools that are predominately African American, about the same level as in 1968 when Dr. King died.
quote by Bobby Scott
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Like The Image
of two white butterflies
fluttering on top of
the blooming blue daisies
beside two old graves
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Fury of Flowers and Worms
Let the flowers make a journey
on Monday so that I can see
ten daisies in a blue vase
with perhaps one red ant
crawling to the gold center.
A bit of the field on my table,
close to the worms
who struggle blinding,
moving deep into their slime,
moving deep into God's abdomen,
moving like oil through water,
sliding through the good brown.
The daisies grow wild
like popcorn.
They are God's promise to the field.
How happy I am, daisies, to love you.
How happy you are to be loved
and found magical, like a secret
from the sluggish field.
If all the world picked daisies
wars would end, the common cold would stop,
unemployment would end, the monetary market
would hold steady and no money would float.
Listen world.
if you'd just take the time to pick
the white flowers, the penny heart,
all would be well.
They are so unexpected.
They are as good as salt.
If someone had brought them
to van Gogh's room daily
his ear would have stayed on.
I would like to think that no one would die anymore
if we all believed in daisies
but the worms know better, don't they?
They slide into the ear of a corpse
and listen to his great sigh.
poem by Anne Sexton
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Clover, Daisies and Grass
Clover daisies and grass
spread out pink, white and greens
on the carpet in front of me.
A thousand heads of clover
and daisies dotted on the green
as far as the eyes can see.
No sea of turmoil there
as each has its own plot there.
(7 July 2007)
poem by David Harris
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Dripping Sentiment and Scent Wrenched Daisies Sent
Dripping sentiment,
And scent wrenched daisies sent.
A bouquet just to say,
My feelings haven't changed.
And hoping when they arrive...
They are not turrned away!
Admitting guilt is difficult.
When truth is obvious,
And should not be questioned.
But certain situations,
Call for more than just an apology.
And begging on one knee...
Is accompanied,
By a pint of blood...
One bleeds!
IF one is thought to be unfaithful,
BUT not!
Dripping sentiment,
And scent wrenched daisies sent.
A bouquet just to say,
My feelings haven't changed.
And hoping when they arrive...
They are not turrned away!
These days...
The more creative,
The better the outcome!
Especially when something done...
Is discovered to be thoughtlessly dumb!
And ignoring what has taken place...
Is not recommended,
IF one wishes to recognize the face...
Of one who has been angered!
And I have seen the fangs produce foam before.
That is why I've sent the daisies at the door.
Hoping she will not snap off my head...
Because of something foolish I said!
This morning when I left our bed...
Without a kiss goodbye,
But slip and said...
Her looks made me cry!
BUT 'that' was not what I meant!
And I rushed to leave...
To abort an argument!
I HOPE she receives the daisies I sent...
Before I arrive at home!
Please Father...
'Anything'
Besides the fangs,
And foam!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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African Sunrise
This song was first released on the dreamland express album. it is the only album it has been released on.
African sunrise, shine on a brand new day
African sunrise, show us a brand new way
Give us a brand new morning
Show us forever beginning to stand on our own
African sunrise, smile on my african home
In this hour of quiet contemplation
The stillness of the dawning calms my mind
I face the day with heartfelt exaltation
The light is both a promise and a sign
In the darkness we have lost the son of our sister
Though the beauty of his spirit lingers still
This was a child of love, a child of laughter
Who cannot understand the way I feel
Is it not the sun that gives the seasons
Is it not the sun that brings the rain
Our throats are choled with dust, but were still singing
Our song will not be silenced by the rain
All around the village I could hear the roosters crowing
There was a time it was like music to my ears
Now all I can hear is the sound of hungry babies crying
I pray for rain to wash away their tears
African sunrise, light of a brand new day
African sunrise, light of a brand new way
With one who will be our brother
And one who will be our partner and teach us to know
African sunrise, smile on my african home
African sunrise.....
African sunrise.....
Words and music by john denver
song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The African Women (For T-Y Bello)
Each time I think
of the African woman,
I search for your pix
In the chip of my memory.
The African woman,
Her eyes radiant like
a young lover
so blazing a pupil
planted among white surrounds
The African women
is blessed with a soft smile
her dentations are like the
vertical bars of a police sergeant - major
The African woman,
her touch break barriers
the smell of her hair is like
the aroma of frankincense.
The African woman
has the warmest of embrace
stay black my little
Pumpkin.
poem by Matthias Pantaleon
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