Have You?
have you ever experienced walking
just walking away without having any destination in mind?
just seeing the place where you always pass
the trees along the path
some weeds and stones and carabao dung
no conclusions
just observations
the clouds hanging on the side of the hill
the sun shining above a tall coconut tree
you take shade
and some streaks of light pass thru the leaves
sometimes i drive the car
but i do not have any place in mind
or name
or purpose
i just keep driving following the road
and slowly i see the ordinary things
and people and
structures
an old bridge abandoned
beside its railing some vines
rust overcoming its steel edges
your mind keeps traveling
but you do not stop it
it is the one controlling itself
not you
the sounds of birds and the
motors and some conversations
of people around you
vendors and passers-by
carrying their goods and
important supplies
have you ever written a poem
without any plan as to its theme
or a careful thinking about some imagery
or a deliberation as to the propriety of its tone
its count and color?
this is the one.
this is the poem that is making itself.
no rules. no theme.
no expectations.
plain monologue.
no unity. no consistency. nothing logical.
it is free. and it may be nothing but
an ugly piece.
but it is.
it is. Just as it is.
and this could be nothing but a
portrait of the face of
nothing. Nobody. No one.
No.Yes. A No.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
mozart's piano concerto 26 in D
what you do not know is that when i write a poem
i have mozart's piano music behind my mind
for instance take this one,
what is the plan? what is the theme of this one?
i am focused on the notes of beethoven
running wildly on the screen
of this computer
which of course, you may conclude, like an ordinary mortal,
that these notes somehow cannot be seen
running and running as they seem to be
for they are just in the imagination of my mind
like this poem
what do you think is this all about?
is this going to be about something
as you
and all of you would like to have,
a poem in utility like your car that finds significance only
for as long as it starts to run
like your tissue that you take without so much fuss
when you sneeze and you need it badly to cover your mouth?
this poem is not about it
it is simply a musical piece that plays itself
stays in the middle of your thoughts
fertilizes your imagination
and yet fruitlessly, it merely passes in your mind
and then stops
and then you say, it is not like my car, not like my tissue
just this one: nothing at all for use, but for time to let it pass itself,
to survive the stagnancy of your hours
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Lost The Poem I Wrote In My Mind
I LOST THE POEM I WROTE IN MIND
I lost the poem I wrote in my mind
When walking to Shul this morning-
I can only try to recall its thoughts;
‘Walk too fast and the mind cannot hear itself
Walk slowly and listen to the poem inside yourself.
The road ahead the trees the sky
Has a beauty too great for you to write
Thank God for your sight.”
The best lines are forever gone-
A poem to replace a poem
Is not as good as the original-
I wish I had the words for all the beauty God gives me in my life
How wonderful it is to be alive- sometimes
And to be able to write poems – even if somewhat poorly.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Poem About The Poem About The Poem
THE POEM ABOUT THE POEM ABOUT THE POEM
The poem about the poem about the poem
Written in dream
And forgotten in sleep
Comes back to me slowly now
As if it had been away on a long long journey
And is reluctant to come home-
I write it
But it really writes me
And when I try to make sense of what it means
It tells me its ambiguities
Are more important and interesting
Than my clarity-
The poem about the poem about the poem
Written now
May not be a poem about a poem about a poem at all
But may merely be my own playing with words
Which take the place in my life
Of really living-
A poem about a poem about a poem?
Surely this is a mysterious thing
If it exists at all.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Through My Eyes
I believe-
I believe my thoughts are being broadcasted
I believe you can see my world through my eyes-
When your eyes are closed, I believe that you can hear my thoughts
My thoughts that speak of persecution and threat
These thoughts, as directed towards the rest of the world.
I place my hands over my eyes so that
What is inside of mind does not become
The literature of other people-
Even though my thoughts are silent
When your eyes make contact with mine,
All that I am thinking screams out to you and
I know you wish to harm me.
I believe-
I believe I am being threatened
Being threatened by those who follow my path,
Walking behind me, and somehow
Knowing my destination-
The leaves upon the trees have fallen in autumn and
Now the trees are barren, and I have no place to hide.
This whole world has become the enemy.
I believe my thoughts are broadcasted as I walk,
Kicking aside stones and the leaves that have fallen-
Snow has fallen upon the edge of time and
I stand upon the edge of time, counting the minutes-
Counting every second before the whole world knows of
The anger, hurt and my thoughts misconstrued,
That are torturing me every day and every night-
All I can do is to keep on walking and hope
That one day this mistrust of the world shall
Heal inside my troubled mind and somebody’s eyes
Will make contact with mine and say
“it doesn’t matter to me what you are thinking because
You are a person with a heart and a soul like everyone else and
I believe we all have faults-“ I look towards the sky searching for an increment of hope A world exists inside of me- a beautiful world I hope someday will not matter
If I let somebody inside to see- to know my destination and
I won’t need to hide anymore- when spring comes flowers shall blossom and
Leaves shall grow in the summer- and in the autumn leaves shall turn colors and fall-
I shall continue my journey towards the day I can learn to trust the world around me,
As I kick aside the stones and the fallen leaves as I walk-
With my eyes open to the world, my spirit, unafraid.
Claudia Krizay
poem by Claudia Krizay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Poem Is Restless In Me
THE POEM IS RESTLESS IN ME
The poem is restless in me-
It waits to be heard-
Now that it comes
It does not feel especially happy about itself.
It knows it is not real-
It is not much-
Just because it is called a poem by me
Does not make it a poem -
The mind has its own place-
My mind also -
I am always thinking poems are with me,
And poems waiting to come-
But who am I and what do I know?
These lines are written in the still of the morning
When the light outside still brings hope
That a new day is possible.
But so many poems have been written in the early morning
And I am so old from hearing them said to me by myself-
And what does it all mean anyway in the end when God is the Only One?
And who am I to know what God is, or invoke the name of God
In such a small thing as my own poetry?
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Walking In The Rain
Walking down the street,
Kicking cans,
Looking at the billboards,
(? )
Summing up the people,
Checking out the race,
Doing what Im doing,
Feeling out of place,
Walking, walking,
In the rain.
Feeling like a woman,
Looking like a man,
Sounding like a no-no,
Mating when I can,
Whistling in the darkness,
Shining in the night,
Coming to conclusions,
Right is night is tight,
Walking, walking,
In the rain.
Come in all you jesters,
Enter all you fools,
Sit down no-nos,
Vulgar fools,
Trip the light fantastic,
Dance the swivel hips,
Coming to conclusions,
Button up your lips,
Walking, walking,
In the rain.
song performed by by Grace Jones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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About other people’s lives
About other people’s lives
Rizal the hero must have chewed cud
And found the grass bitter, or the mongo
Beans too hard for his taste. Perhaps he
Did not know the exact number of
His buttons when he walked towards
Luneta and face his accusers
And meet his death. Perhaps he did not
Like the light from his lamp when
He wrote a poem. I do not really know
More about his persona life.
Did he like cheese? Did he take a deep
Breath and spit on the dogs along
The road? He poured no tears
Onto the frying pan of this
Old country. They wrote a lot
After two or more centuries
And there were so many stories
Not really rumors but I thank
God I am no great hero.
No one writes about me
And I think I am more understood
In my own privacy.
I do not really mind about
Other people’s lives
I do not peep on my
Neighbor’s windows.
I move my own hip
And drive my own car
Slowly away from those
Crowd on the parking lots
Of the mall. I like to stay
On the side of an abandoned house
And just sit there for a while
For no reason at all.
Winds do not frisk trees I guess.
Hairs fell wherever they want.
I touch my own cheek
And bite my own lips.
God! I like it when I am here
And no one minds me.
And I mind no one too.
I like the bridge
Long enough for my
Hand to travel on my nose.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Another nothing poem
Another nothing poem
~
These are just words
Rhyming, walking with rhythm
They do not hate or love
Laugh, cry or shout aloud
They know no malice or jealousy
They just piece together nicely
In a story or a poem
However they are written
Presented on a page
They remain just words
They talk of no living soul
But a fictional character
If one happens to be written
Or a place or feeling
Some may relate to it
You’re free to see what you like
Or dislike in these words
That’s all they are sitting here
Rhyming, walking with rhythm
Across the once blank page
Just another nothing poem
Waiting to be read
poem by Matthew Holloway
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bring On The Lucie
-"alright, boys, this is it, over the hill!"
We don't care what flag you're waving,
We don't even want to know your name.
We don't care where you're from or where you're going,
All we know it that you came.
Your making all our decisions,
We have just one request of you,
That while you're thinking things over,
Here's something you just better do.
Free the people now, (do it, do it, do it, do it)
Do it, do it, do it, do it, do it now.
(do it, do it, do it, do it)
Free the people now, (do it, do it, do it, do it)
Do it, do it, do it, do it, do it now.
Well, we were caught with our hands in the air,
Don't despair, paranoia's ev'rywhere.
We can shake it with love when we're scared,
So let's shout it aloud like a prayer.
Free the people now, (do it, do it, do it, do it)
Do it, do it, do it, do it, do it now.
(do it, do it, do it, do it)
Free the people now, (do it, do it, do it, do it)
Do it, do it, do it, do it, do it now.
We understand your paranoia,
But we don't wanna play your game.
You think you're cool and know what you're doing,
666 is your name.
So while you jerking off each other,
You better bear this in mind;
Your time is up, you better know it,
But maybe you don't read the signs.
Free the people now, (do it, do it, do it, do it)
Do it, do it, do it, do it, do it (do it) now.
(do it, do it, do it, do it)
Free the people now, (do it, do it, do it, do it)
Do it, do it, do it, do it, do it now.
Well, you were caught with your hands in the kill,
And you still gotta swallow your pill,
As you slip and you slide down the hill
On the blood of the people you killed.
Stop the killing!
(free the people now) (do it, do it)
Do! (do it, do it, do it, do it, do it now)
(do it, do it, do it)
Stop the killing!
(free the people now) (do it, do it, do it, do it)
Do it, do it, do it, do it, do it now.
(do it, do it, do it, do it)
Stop the killing!
(free the people now) (do it, do it, do it, do it)
(do it, do it, do it, do it, do it now)
(do it, do it, do it, do it)
Stop the killing!
(free the people now) (do it, do it, do it, do it)
(do it, do it) do it, do it, do it.
Bring on the lucie!
(free the people now) (do it, do it, do it)
song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bring On The Lucie
-"alright, boys, this is it, over the hill!"
We don't care what flag you're waving,
We don't even want to know your name.
We don't care where you're from or where you're going,
All we know it that you came.
Your making all our decisions,
We have just one request of you,
That while you're thinking things over,
Here's something you just better do.
Free the people now, (do it, do it, do it, do it)
Do it, do it, do it, do it, do it now.
(do it, do it, do it, do it)
Free the people now, (do it, do it, do it, do it)
Do it, do it, do it, do it, do it now.
Well, we were caught with our hands in the air,
Don't despair, paranoia's ev'rywhere.
We can shake it with love when we're scared,
So let's shout it aloud like a prayer.
Free the people now, (do it, do it, do it, do it)
Do it, do it, do it, do it, do it now.
(do it, do it, do it, do it)
Free the people now, (do it, do it, do it, do it)
Do it, do it, do it, do it, do it now.
We understand your paranoia,
But we don't wanna play your game.
You think you're cool and know what you're doing,
666 is your name.
So while you jerking off each other,
You better bear this in mind;
Your time is up, you better know it,
But maybe you don't read the signs.
Free the people now, (do it, do it, do it, do it)
Do it, do it, do it, do it, do it (do it) now.
(do it, do it, do it, do it)
Free the people now, (do it, do it, do it, do it)
Do it, do it, do it, do it, do it now.
Well, you were caught with your hands in the kill,
And you still gotta swallow your pill,
As you slip and you slide down the hill
On the blood of the people you killed.
Stop the killing!
(free the people now) (do it, do it)
Do! (do it, do it, do it, do it, do it now)
(do it, do it, do it)
Stop the killing!
(free the people now) (do it, do it, do it, do it)
Do it, do it, do it, do it, do it now.
(do it, do it, do it, do it)
Stop the killing!
(free the people now) (do it, do it, do it, do it)
(do it, do it, do it, do it, do it now)
(do it, do it, do it, do it)
Stop the killing!
(free the people now) (do it, do it, do it, do it)
(do it, do it) do it, do it, do it.
Bring on the lucie!
(free the people now) (do it, do it, do it)
song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Giving You The Scenario
i am the culprit who gives you the scenario of his
driving alone on one stormy night
the white bridge taken away by the strong river
where there is no more connection, and you write me hoping that this
cannot be true, because you always believe what i write and because i always
assure you that everything is true, oh my, oh my,
the storm is true, and the river and the bridge too, and its color and its rage
but oh my, oh my,
the one who is driving
the one who was lost and stopped by the side of the road and wished
that the tree above him may fall on his car and damage it and even
kill him inside the confines of his anxieties
need not be me,
he could be someone else, a neigbor, a friend, an acquaintance of the mind, a character of his short story,
or the mad man in his poem
or it could even be you
in some figures of speech
yes, everything are possibilities,
and oh my, oh my,
yes, i finally agree,
on that stormy night with all the details in tact
trees bending, leaves blown away, rain as thick as walls,
rivers raging like a revolution
darkness as black as ink
howling sounds like dogs seeing the bad spirits
oh my, oh my with all the stark detail they are so real
so real that i know how it feels like i am touching the flame itself
from the dirty kitchen,
well, you are right
he could be me, how can i now disown who i am and what i have seen?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Shallow Thoughts...
along the shores
where the salty vines have covered our tracks
the coconuts are growing tall
and being so nearly planted
their leaves reach for each other
in a little distance
the heaps of dry leaves and husks
make a mountain
and now covered by the vines
and so concealed
beyond this place is a grass-less space
it is where most of the strangers stay
the mass of people gather
and bask under the sun
the gates here are closed more often
there are no kids
neither are there old people who take
their leisure here
this is my own place
so private and so deserted
i would like to call it another solitude
but the coconut trees without nuts
on this rainy December
signify otherwise
it is lonely, the hut speaks.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Coconut
the tree of life
this coconut tree
leaves for the roof
midribs for the broom
its meat all around
from food to dessert
to cooking oil to
diesel and even
engine fuel
this coconut poem
shade for lovers
on the sandy beach
an imagery of breast
for sucking to
a man's zest,
a poet's quest
best, blessed
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Poem Is Just A Poem
a poem is just a poem and if it is just a poem
it must be just a poem just like another poem
a poem is nothing but just a poem otherwise
it cannot be my poem; it may speak about
anything, or something, or about everything,
but my poem is just a poem just like anybody's
poem, which is just but a poem, like any other
poem, for a poem to be a poem it must just be
a poem: it has nothing to do with my love, and death
my life, or bliss, but as i have told you, once, twice
thrice, eat some rice, and be that wise, a poem is
just a poem, just like your poem. Why do you insist
on asking, what is happening to me? I am not a
poem, for i am but just the composer of the poem,
need i tell you again, that a poem is just a poem?
just like any other poem, which is just a poem
it is just a voice in my head that i have heard
someone comes and speaks and i listen so
this poem is not actually my poem but the poem
of someone else's: theirs not mine, from a mind.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Walking Through The Rain
Once in our lifetime
will go through a narrow road
where there's nobody around
We just walking all alone
Carrying attached burden
And behind, chased by a storm
Will the soul safely reach home?
Left and right, nothing around
keep walking in a small road
Wind run chasing this feet
Bringing sand to my eyes
A bit hurt, force to tears
dropped, flew, dried still fears
Keep walking the storm just near
Wind swirl and touch the trees
The weak leaves falling down
Riding this feeling we cant help
After carrying all blurry years
The future seems like a smear
But the storm keep coming near
Too close to breaks and clear
I still walking ahead with hopes
There's nothing around to hold
The grey conquer half of the blue sky
While the sun gone leaving without light
Keep walking, keep moving, it's alright
Even the clouds shades my shadow
We left the past, i wont undo
When the rain pour on me
Finally i know the storm caught my body
Still walking, keep walking even a bit slowly
Stuck in heaviness, waking, standing and walking again
The storm push me down like the weak leaves falling down
Wake up and walking once again, nothing to hold, all by my own
Thunder shouting to scare but i'm too tired to keep afraid
No choice only walking, so I'll be brave for a change
Through this heavy rain
Keep walking to keep moving
Even it was pain with burden
For days and years to come,
I making decision through this rain
For life and future days still remain
Dont want spent entire life with all constrains
A Change for a chance,
So i took this chance to change
For next change of life chance
For always i trust my believe for a chance
The reason why i keep walking through the heavy rain
Cause i know there's always something i will gain at the end
A future with a rainbow will prove there's a chance and change
Cause I know the sun will rise and shine again
So i have made a decision through the rain
Even though i know storm will appear again
I will keep walking and stand again
: : : : : : : : Theme: Challenge and Inner strength: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :
This time i learn and use my brain
poem by Unwritten Soul
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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And What About Us Who Write Poems Every Minute Of The Day?
what words can we take pride in
these poems like our daily breaths
ordinary words we utter in ordinary
conversations we have
come breakfast come snack time
come lunch come dinner
the talks we have on the park
in the marketplaces of our ordinary days
unplanned, unscreened, unedited
ordinary words to ordinary occasions
an embarrassment, can these words be?
unscheming and devoid of meaning
the lines of the common places?
the dialogues of the fool and the unwise?
you do not have to mind
this is my journal, a record of nothing
but ramblings of my mind and there you are
carefully reading putting meaning where there was
really none
this poem of day to day, unwavering
trying to be but nothing, a mode of nothing but just
plain thinking
do you too have this kind of breathing?
tell me why you breathe, then?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The World Is a Beautiful Place
The world is a beautiful place
to be born into
if you don't mind happiness
not always being
so very much fun
if you don't mind a touch of hell
now and then
just when everything is fine
because even in heaven
they don't sing
all the time
The world is a beautiful place
to be born into
if you don't mind some people dying
all the time
or maybe only starving
some of the time
which isn't half bad
if it isn't you
Oh the world is a beautiful place
to be born into
if you don't much mind
a few dead minds
in the higher places
or a bomb or two
now and then
in your upturned faces
or such other improprieties
as our Name Brand society
is prey to
with its men of distinction
and its men of extinction
and its priests
and other patrolmen
and its various segregations
and congressional investigations
and other constipations
that our fool flesh
is heir to
Yes the world is the best place of all
for a lot of such things as
making the fun scene
and making the love scene
and making the sad scene
and singing low songs and having inspirations
and walking around
looking at everything
and smelling flowers
and goosing statues
and even thinking
and kissing people and
making babies and wearing pants
and waving hats and
dancing
and going swimming in rivers
on picnics
in the middle of the summer
and just generally
'living it up'
Yes
but then right in the middle of it
comes the smiling
mortician
poem by Lawrence Ferlinghetti
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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5th Avenue
Written by gerry beckley, 1984
Found on perspective.
Walking down 5th avenue
I saw him walking there with you
People see and people talk
Word travels fast round my block
Might just save you the price of writing
I could save you an hour or two
Walking down 5th avenue
Walking down 5th avenue
Dont know what to ask of you
My mind is gettin so confused
Even when I really try
Keeps sounding like Im saying goodbye
Somewhere deep in my heart Im hurtin
cause I keep on remembering you
Walking down 5th avenue
Walking down 5th avenue
Such a long way to go
How many times must I look up and say
What kind of fool am i
But I cant turn my back on the times that we shared
No matter how I try
Walking down 5th avenue
Cant seem to shake the thought of you
Even in the dark of night
Your memories of shining light
Though Im tryin to change direction
I pray what I saw aint true
Walking down 5th avenue
Walking down 5th avenue
Such a long way to go
Do, do, do, do ...
song performed by by America
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Being Green
(joe raposo)
One day, as I was walking through my garden, I saw a little frog lying on the ground. and I thought he was sick. so I picked him up and he wasnt sick at all. he was very sad, and he was crying.
I said: whats a matter with you, little frog? and he looked up at me with a lump in his throat, and he said: wribbit!
It aint easy being green
Having to spend each day the color of the leaves
When I think, I think it would be nicer being red
Or yellow or gold
You see, it aint easy being green
It seems to blend in with so many other ordinary things
And then, sometimes, sometimes people pass over you
Because youre not standing out like sparkles on the water
Or like the stars in the sky
But did you know that green is the color of spring
And green can be big like an ocean
And important like a mountain
And cool and friendly-like
Or tall and skinny like a tree
And me
But when green is all there is to be
It kind of makes you wonder why
Why wonder, wonder why?
Hey, Im green and I think itll do fine
cause green is just what I wanna be
cause green is beautiful, baby
Right on green
And anyway, moneys green
Wribbit
song performed by by Diana Ross
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Poem Tree
The poem tree is a very safe haven,
for birds and fowl, a hawk, a raven, or
a little barn owl.The tree could be a
silhouette, or the finest place to raise
your pet.The poem tree could bear
the fruit of life.Such as apples and
pears, with morning dew.A wonderful
place to play the flute.The poem tree
could have a nest.Giving birds with
eggs, a place to rest.It could capture
a kite who someone lost, or be bitten
by the morning frost.It could capture
a balloon, which went astray, or drop
all its leaflets by the bay.The poem
tree could have a lollipop, or maybe
a candycane, umbrella branches, to
stop the rain.The tree could protect
all animals, from an oncoming flood,
and keep all the tree bugs out of the
mud.Above the tree the sun will shine.
Home for a raccoon, or a porcupine..
The Poem Tree by Kim Robin Edwards
Copyright 2011.All rights reserved.
poem by Kim Robin Edwards
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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