He Knows The Cadena De Amor
i now know
that he loves
flowers
he likes
most the
cadena de
amor
climbing
from one
tree
to another
pink flowers
on fences
and pillars
and walls
and windows
and doors
creeping
living
to its name
the chain
of love
a life
full of creepy
sex
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The walls
Life, here in the surroundings of my white walls,
The walls that watch me while I pray, while I sing,
While I dance and work in my little room, while
I cry, these white walls they know my life, only
they cry with me or sing or pray or dance, they give
my life the warm feelings of hands. The colors
of my works the fabrics, the pen that move my hands,
the architect of my bones, the father, the I AM, they
all life in me. Life, life is my big question! , life is the
I AM, and the I AM is life. I gather here in my room
all of my works, the good, the bad and the worsse,
they come alive with my help. Life in these white
walls, pink I rather say, ' I love pink' My sink full
of dishes waiting to be washed, the flowers on my
table growing roots, the doors and windows always
on guard, the lamps that never cease to give me light,
the sofa so exhausted of my exhausting body, the tree
near my window poking at me, then the cry of a puppy
I hear it all the time. My shop my objects; they dream
and have their own mind, they wear the colors of life,
they dress up and move my soul,
I love how they love me back…
poem by Elenushka Toledo
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I don't trust or love anyone. Because people are so creepy. Creepy creepy creeps. Creeping around. Creeping here and creeping there. Creeping everywhere. Crippity crappity creepies.
quote by Vincent Gallo
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Flowers In Her Garden
sosperos de amor
dama de noche
cadena de amor
the longings of love
the lady of the night
the chains of love
and then
she left him
what grows wildly
around are the
amor seco...
she means it, she has no plans of coming back.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rain-tree
Rain-tree
The rain-tree is of cassia family -
Like an elephant it stands on the road, clothed
With thick green foliage, dark against the sky
All along the Bandra-Kurla road in Mumbai.
You have to exert a little and see
Over the top to see the nazuna-type
Of pink flowers sitting above the foliage
In plentiful numbers, with up-thrust pink hairs.
Unlike the African tulip in front of ONGC
At Bandra Flyover visible from the distance,
Here the pink and green does not show off
As rain-tree flowers don’t advertise themselves.
Unlike copper-pod’s bright yellow flowers
The rain tree flowers don’t weave a carpet:
I’ve never seen the flowers on the ground below
Nor do they wither on the tree, how I wonder!
In monsoon rains, the leaves shine specially,
Transparent drops falling on walkers below,
Or with a thud on the racing car bonnets too,
Some choose to fall on road to rise a bit upwards.
I have not understood why it is called rain-tree:
Are they attracted, peacock-like, to the rain-clouds,
Or does the rain-bird which drinks water straight from heavens
Prefer this tree, and inspire Kalidasa to write Meghdoot?
poem by Daniel Trevelyn Joseph
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Flowers
(orbison/dees)
When I was a boy I ran among the flowers
Looking left and right at the bright array
I played through the spring, whiled away the hours
Lingered with the flowers every day
Flowers, pretty flowers, flowers, lifes bouquet
Flowers, pretty flowers, flowers, along the way
Flowers, pretty flowers, flowers, lifes bouquet
Flowers, pretty flowers, flowers, along the way
When the summer ends and the storms of life are over
When the winter comes and the petals fall away
They may write it on my stone, he was just a roller
But he stopped to pick some flowers along the way
Flowers, pretty flowers, flowers, lifes bouquet
Flowers, picked some flowers, along the way
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pink eucalyptus flowers
Pink eucalyptus flowers
(The flowers are out)
Are scented honey sweet
For bees to buzz about.
Pink eucalyptus flowers
(The flowers are out)
Are fair as any rose
For us to sing about.
poem by Lesbia Harford
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Pink Life
Pink flowers
Pink pens
What about a pink life
Pink stars
Pink trees
What a pink life that would be
Pink shoes
Pink dresses
That is the pink fashion life for me!
poem by Claudia Wilson
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The Beautiful Camellias
The camellias bloom in Winter when the skies are cold and gray
When the sun shines at it's weakest and the Spring seems far away
Each tree an individual by the shade of flowers they bear
An avenue of camellias of one shade of flowers more often than not rare.
In shades of pink and creams and reds the colours one might name
Each is an individual for no two look the same
The beautiful camellias resplendent in their flowers
They bloom in lawn and garden on Winter's coldest hours.
In late fall in Victoria in the Southern Hemisphere
The flower buds on camellia tell Winter days are near
And before the wattles come to bloom towards the end of July
The flowers on the camellia tree lose their petals and die.
The beautiful camellias bloom in the cold winter showers
And long before the southern spring they will have lost their flowers
And on June's coldest and wettest day great beauty I can see
A mass of pink flowers blooming on the green camellia tree.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Expectedly
houses are strong
and well insulated
in your
hinterland
but mine is on top
of the hill
kissed by the sun
it is open to the
air
they come and go
and come again
this is the house without
doors and stairs
a house deprived of
windows
and peeping holes
and cracks and
slits
this is the house of the
sun
the earth loves it
its body attached
to the grass
it has no pillars
but trees
no roof but clouds
no walls but spaces
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Queen's Flowers
During the month of April
Tree after tree in full bloom;
Mauve flowers, pushing out in plenty,
With copper pod yellow flowers on top
Here and there - taller, larger trees.
A solitary bread-tree flaunts its pretty leaves,
Bunch of bell-tree flowers intruding through;
Nearby a frangipani tree with white-streaked red flowers
Bougainvillae and railway creepers on the fence
Along the pavement where I walk.
Line, color, motion, light and shade
Thrill me: what my eyes see each moment
Constitute a better painting than
Any of the greatest of Masters.
Alas, it is evanescent!
13th April 2007
Bandra-Kurla.
poem by Daniel Trevelyn Joseph
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Boris The Spider
Look, hes crawling up my wall
Black and hairy, very small
Now hes up above my head
Hanging by a little thread
Boris the spider
Boris the spider
Now hes dropped on to the floor
Heading for the bedroom door
Maybe hes as scared as me
Wheres he gone now, I cant see
Boris the spider
Boris the spider
Creepy, crawly
Creepy, crawly
Creepy, creepy, crawly, crawly
Creepy, creepy, crawly, crawly
Creepy, creepy, crawly, crawly
Creepy, creepy, crawly, crawly
There he is wrapped in a ball
Doesnt seem to move at all
Perhaps hes dead, Ill just make sure
Pick this book up off the floor
Boris the spider
Boris the spider
Creepy, crawly
Creepy, crawly
Creepy, creepy, crawly, crawly
Creepy, creepy, crawly, crawly
Creepy, creepy, crawly, crawly
Creepy, creepy, crawly, crawly
Hes come to a sticky end
Dont think he will ever mend
Never more will he crawl round
Hes embedded in the ground
Boris the spider
Boris the spider
song performed by by Who
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Always There Is More To Life
life is not
a box of chocolates,
it's a bouquet of
flowers
colors of delight
scents of desire
so light
to the heart
it is what i hold
for you
in my hands
life so full of
flowers
but always there
is more to life
we feel it
when the bouquet is
finally thrown to the
air
and another one
expectant holds
it dear
someday
life will be different
a tree full of fruits
at night
fireflies in
freedom to shine
their own
lights
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Purple Flowers
Purple Flowers
To my Violette
Memory;
Of my mother.
Alive and laughing pretty,
putting flowers in a vase,
water for the roots.
Why mommy, why do you do that?
A little boy full of wonder___
life can be like that.
So I can save them and see them,
because I love you.
Picking purple flowers,
purple flowers in the rain,
purle flowers hide my pain.
You do love me dont you mother,
purple flowers,
stain.
Charles R Hice
Copyright ©2006 Charles Hice
poem by Charles Hice
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Those that have seen you never came back
You must notice by now
Those that have seen you
The birds that once stopped by your window
The vine with flowers climbing the walls
Beside your house
They have seen you
My happiness, my love
The birds have flown away and the vines have long wilted
After a glance and they have no way wanting to see you again
But I, who has seen you, shall come again
Even to kneel again before you
On a sunset behind your antiquated walls
Because I love you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Beautiful Azalea
The beautiful azalea is a woody shrub that never grows into a tree
But the pink flowers on the azalea are so beautiful to see
In the cool to warm days of October when Spring is in the air
And beautiful Mother Nature flowers on her green cloak wear,
How lovely the azalea in the cool shade of the trees
In her mass of pinkish flowers gently stirring in the breeze
Such a thing of natural beauty for to beautify the Spring
In the nice days of October when the nesting song birds sing,
In her tiny leaves of light green and her mass of bright pink flowers
The azalea she is blooming in the sunshine and Spring showers
But time it keeps on ticking and the years go quickly by
And how many more Octobers will i live for to enjoy?
The sight of the beautiful azalea in her pink flowers in the shade
A thing of such rare beauty by Nature only made.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Your Love's Return
Come to the door my pretty one
Put on your rings and precious things
Hide all your tears as best you can
Try to recall what used to be
Roses are waiting for dewdrops to fall
Climbing your windows and walls
Bells in steeple are ringing, singing
Listen to them talk about your love's return
Let me come in my pretty one
And try to undo what i have done
For i must be forgiven now
I will not lose what i have won
Roses are waiting for dewdrops to fall
Climbing your windows and walls
Leaves in the garden are falling, calling
Listen to them talk about your love's return
Open the door my pretty one
Wake from your sleep and take me home
Open your eyes and look my way
I cannot leave your love alone
Roses are waiting for dewdrops to fall
Climbing your windows and walls
Bells in steeple are ringing, singing
Listen to them talk about your love's return
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Paper Flowers
You seem like a girl who likes to tell her bed is made
You seem like a girl who likes to wear her pearls
Well Im not the type who likes to dwell,
Save my money or kiss and tell, yeah
Oh why does she water them, paper flowers?
This girl walks up so graciously,
Slips something in my pocket so secretly,
I said: honey, whats this you gave to me?
Oh nothing, water, wait and see
I said: paper flowers, they cant grow!
Just giveem water and let me know,
Giveem water and let me know, giveem water
And let me know
Oh why does she water them, paper flowers?
Paper flowers...
Oh why does she water them, paper flowers?
Paper flowers...
Shes dressed in black as you can see,
She tries so damn hard to be the enemy,
Shes got big black boots, get outta her way,
She wants to kick tomorrow, punch yesterday,
Kick tomorrow, punch yesterday
Oh why does she water them, paper flowers?
Paper flowers...
Turn a light on, turn a different light on
Turn a light on, turn a different light on now
Turn a light on, turn a different light on
Turn a light on, turn a different light on now!
Oh why does she water them, paper flowers?
Paper flowers...
song performed by by Live
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Portulacca
As soon as I open my eyes,
I quietly rush to the balcony,
And watch with bated breath
As the Sun rises.
Dainty Portulacca come to life,
As if to say Hi.
In their vibrant hues and colours:
Yellow pink, red and orange flowers,
In small pots lined in a row,
Full of light and glow.
Enchanted, I watch them for a while
And feel happy and smile.
As I gently spray them with showers,
I am filled with a sense of wonder.
How these delicate flowers can be so sturdy,
And keep blooming despite hot dry winds,
Which makes us humans wilt,
I thought with a little guilt.
It’s really thoughtful of God,
To send these flowers when it’s so hot.
As the heat becomes too much to bear
These pretty flowers fill me with cheer.
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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We Build
we build new windows
framed with strong wood and carved
with flowers and birds
we build new doors
we let the vines grown their tendrils again
we watch and we keep on building some more
new floors and ceilings that know how to sing
chairs that are learning how to embrace our hips
we begin to see new clouds
we busy ourselves to make life click and tick and pick up
from where we think we ought to have died
we refuse this call for dissolution
there are meanings coming up
for new beginnings
we build a new house simply because we are uncertain
beyond these broken pillars.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I Am Not Afraid Of Emptiness
i may not have told you, but now i will tell it to you
three times,
girl, i am not afraid of emptiness
the one that walks upon you when you were once this huge
space like a Gothic church with doors like mountains and windows
like continents
the sound of emptiness reverberates like a tin cup
that falls on the iron rails of this room
it fills every nerve that coils upon itself and forms a hand gripping
for waterfalls
it closes the ears and rips every rational entries that your eyes
write in the pages of your journal
it encloses you like a mental jacket of that new patient
at ward 6,
it walls you in like you are a chair inside the congested kitchen
look, who likes the congestion of the spirits?
who likes the choking of the nicks of time?
who likes a light imprisoned in its own flames
burning itself upon itself like a candle consuming both of its ends?
who like the mezzanine filled with letters that you keep
containing love stories of suicide and escape?
look upon your face too crowded with your senses?
it is a forest with trees killing each other for an ounce of light
roots upon roots and leaves upon leaves this world is too crowded
with unraveling thoughts
i am not afraid of emptiness
i like my windows opening all the days of my life
i like doors without locks
stairs without rails, houses without walls and roofs
i live in open space and yes right here inside my heart
i thrive in its empty spaces without the nerves and the veins
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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