Heliotrope
finally the mongo
seed inside the
box of paper
finds its way
to an opening
to see the sun
in such a very
short span
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Teh Mongo Experiment....
yes, we put the mongo seed
inside a carboard box and
there is no opening, not even
a peeping hole,
on the other same sized carboard
box with another similar mongo seed
an orifice is made,
the two sprouted but the one
with the opening finally finds
its exit and we meet the word
heliotropic as discussed by
the late mrs. villasica,
that was years ago,
we were then in grade six
at that time, and
martial law was declared
and there were those who
disappeared
those who finally became
mad, literally
no metaphor intended
then i learned such words
hamletting,
summary execution
government persecution
zoning
martial law babies,
i turn to the mongo seed
experiment without an orifice
deprived of light
though given water
and soil to thrive,
the cardboard box and
the dream of the borrowed light
of the moon
because there is no sun
because there is utter deprivation
we go for dreams as substitute
some died in that hunger strike
at least, dubbed as the child of the
borrowed light of the moon,
one still keeps writing and the other
one still keeps reading
call them the surviving
lunatics
not in the literal sense now
but sort of, in a lighter sense
metaphoric.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Black Box, A Key And The Stinking Guest.
do you know how to live
inside
a black box?
tell me. Are you the
seed inside that black box,
you sprout?
and look for an
opening of light?
Helios, you love Helios.
Do you know
this God named Helios?
you are not
a bug, you do not move
like a cockroach
you stink a bit
and you are here beside me
i live inside this black box
for years
i am not a seed,
neither a tweed,
there is no need for you to know
it will not be significant
and i am not stinking like you
you wonder what is this
all about asking you
if you too live in here?
or who you are and why are you
here
inside this tinder black box
it is dark here and we are
talking, you can hear me
and smell me but
you shall not feel me
i am not alive.
i am the key.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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To Find The World
to find the world
is to find your world
that is it, this is what is
it all about
it is about you and the world
you finally find
at first in your fingertips
spinning and then
inside your heart
you spinning
inside your world
the world spins
finally inside you
and you and the world
you finally find
become one
to find the world
your world
finds you and you are
not surprised anymore
the awe and wonder
inside your heart
where now
the world lives
in peace
you and your world
in harmony
like body and soul
sleeping together
in twilight
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Swallowing The Seed
swallowing the seed
fear begins to grow
the seed sprouts inside
his belly and roots begin
to travel inside his prostate
down to his bottom
unto his feet
immobilizing him
the seed begins to have
buds and leaves
and twigs and
huge trunks
his eyes shrink on the barks
his nose all gone
there are no signs of the original man
he swallowed the seed of life
that no one dared.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Buddhist Lesson # 2
enlightment,
the act of opening,
like a rosebud,
like a mother,
opening the door...
like a child
opening a present,
like a woman
opening to a man....
opening...
all the hidden chambers,
every door to every
secret kingdom of the soul.....
opening the box that holds
your secret thoughts, desires....
opening...
the door of the cage,
letting the winged breath fly....
opening....
your heart to itself,
and to all hearts beating....
opening....
the vault of conceptions,
the entrance to the tomb
of past lives and memories....
opening...
your hands to the world
as if it were your neighbor,
and you, it's home!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Im Going Slightly Mad
Words and music by queen
When the outside temperature rises
And the meaning is oh so clear
One thousand and one yellow daffodils
Begin to dance in front of you - oh dear
Are they trying to tell you something
Youre missing that one final screw
Youre simply not in the pink my dear
To be honest you havent got a clue
Im going slightly mad
Im going slightly mad
It finally happened - happened
It finally happened - ooh oh
It finally happened
Im slightly mad
Oh dear
Im one card short of a full deck
Im not quite the shilling
One wave short of a shipwreck
Im not my usual top billing
Im coming down with a fever
Im really out to sea
This kettle is boiling over
I think Im a banana tree
Oh dear
Im going slightly mad
Im going slightly mad
It finally happened - happened
It finally happened - uh huh
It finally happened
Im slightly mad
Oh dear
Ooh ooh ah ah
Ooh ooh ah ah
Im knitting with only one needle
Unravelling fast its true
Im driving only three wheels these days
But my dear how about you
Im going slightly mad
Im going slightly mad
It finally happened
It finally happened - oh yes
It finally happened
Im slightly mad
Just very slightly mad
And there you have it
song performed by by Queen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Destination
one day
such is the short span
of this creature
but there is no sadness
on its leaving
on such a short time
everything was
accomplished
it gave the
best shot.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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When The Rat Finally Entered The Trap
it is when the rat
finally finds itself
inside the trap
figuring out how
to outsmart the
incoming death
and torturer, it is
at this moment
when philosophizing
begins to begin.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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When Love Finds You
Love sure is something no one can explain
It can bring you such joy, it can bring you pain
And with every emotion, love puts us through
Theres nothing you can say, when love finds you
Love is the power that makes your heart beat
It can make you move mountains, make you drop to your knees
When it finally hits you, you wont know what to do
Theres nothin you can say, when love finds you
Chorus:
Give it all you can give it, when your love comes around
If you put your heart in it, then it wont let you down
Youll find out its true, baby, someday when love finds you
And when you least expect it, it will finally come true
Theres nothing you can say when love finds you
Repeat chorus
Youll find out its true, baby, someday when love finds you
song performed by by Vince Gill
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Steams Of Thoughts One Thursday Afternoon
things that amaze you
sometimes your hands holding on
to something too tightly yet
you hold not a grain of those beans
spilling all over your feet
the sound of violin playing slowly
at the opening and then faster
at the end
your feet cannot hold the dance
hidden inside your heels
you step and tiptoe on the street
as people gaze at you
a girl looks attentively and sways her head
saying it does not look good for a woman
at 45 still behaving like a
child what a shame she says when she
behaves like a woman
despite the pinches that she receives from
mother and there is the man who dusts off
a tinderbox as he finally finds his
hidden treasure his toy soldiers all stuff
like that taken away from him when
he was once a young boy beaten almost
to death by a cruel father.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Dream Of Evolution....
shall a seed be
a seed forever?
do you not dream
someday that it shall
be planted
so that it can sprout
and grow
and then finally see
its flower
and fruit?
must the flower and fruit
be just the same
like the rest of the histories of
the other seeds
of their own form and kind?
must i hope
for an evolution
a seed turning
into a bee
a bee into
a butterfly into wind
into star?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Seed
The wind carried the seed
Into the air to who knows where
Across the weeds, floated the seed
Until to rest on the earth, which laid bare.
And then cried the seed upon the rise
Someday I, I will be a tree,
Liken my brothers, who will be like me
And I will grow to touch the sky.
The seed again journeyed upon the wind
Over the grass and wooded paths
Above the trees, cousins to him
Past the flowers who were his friends.
While he dreamed someday; he too would have many limbs.
The seed finally lighted upon the ground
From where he chose, so his mighty roots would grow
God will water me and give me light, he cried
He will also destroy my enemies and help me rise,
But then arrived a bird, who ate the seed.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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Nobody Home
Don't run too fast
Like a shot from a gun
Don't jump too high
And knock out the sun
Don't stray too far
Out on your own
When you finally come knocking
When you finally come knocking
There'll be nobody home
Nobody home
Don't pull too hard
Like a kite in the wind
You'll break the string
When I reel you in
Don't take off flying
All on your own
When you finally come knocking
When you finally come knocking
There'll be nobody home
Nobody home
You say you're feeling locked inside
Stuck inside to stay
You wanna fly away
There's nothing I can do
To help you make your play
Make your getaway
Don't dream too wild
And shoot for the moon
Don't ride your heart
Like a balloon
Don't blow away
To places unknown
Cause when you finally coming knocking
When you finally come knocking
There'll be nobody home
Nobody home
Don't run too fast
Like a shot from a gun
Don't jump too high
And knock out the sun
Don't stray too far
Out on your own
Cause when you finally come knocking
When you finally come knocking
there'll be nobody home
Nobody home
When you finally come knocking
When you finally come knocking
There'll be nobody home
Nobody home
When you finally come knocking
When you finally come knocking
There'll be nobody home
Nobody home
song performed by by Heart from Heart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Do Not Worry
do not worry
the seed of love will just find its way
to grow and upon itself
take its journey towards bliss
for like any seed on earth
it always finds itself to the glorious
face of the sun and shakes its hands
and be a part of its
embrace
from it a tree comes out
some fruits that ripen
for you to simply pick up
and eat
and without any question
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Paper And Pen
Paper and pen
Trying to write a song again
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Trying to write a song again
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Can’t think of anything to say today
Can’t think of anything to do
Can’t think of anything to play today
Minds gone blank
Leaving me here, just sitting here
Listening to my hair grow
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
And I look towards you
For an inspiration or a word or two
I try but I find
Every road only leads me back to these lines
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Piano, guitar
I try but don't get very far
Paper and pen
Piano, guitar
Paper and pen
Trying to write a song again
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Copyright Colin Coplin 1985 / 2010
poem by Colin Coplin
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A Sheet of Paper
A sheet of paper is wrestled by the wind
Like living tissue inside us.
It is a shown substance of celebration
Like the masses of people in harmony,
As if earthquakes position their young inside themselves,
We are not younger than paper,
We have youth not old age,
But our lessons fade away.
poem by Naveed Akram
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To Stand Before You And Talk About Being Just And Good
when you let me talk
i fear that i may not stop talking
after all
the topic is about an eternal quest
for what is good
and just
i get inside
an opening and then i start the
walk inside a labyrinth
and i feel like i am
a lost child
looking for an opening
again
sensing that perhaps there is
another light
beyond us
i sailed
and chanced upon an island
of uncertainty
and then i disembark from
there
only to find
that there is nobody there
except myself
talking
it is so strange
i see mountains and the world
is so silent
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Masochist Culture....
this incurable fanatic is condemned
every morning it opens the pages of its own realities
as though it is opening a wound
and lets the blood ooze
it finds joy in this kind
opening those which have healed and had been closed
for years now
this is the culture of masochism
manipulating the past giving it is unnecessary presence
perhaps
because there is nothing to see at all
nothing to do
perhaps to lessen the absurdity of what is here
there is nothing to touch
except these pages of
pain
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Psalm 89 last part
v.47ff
8,8,8,8,8,8
Life, death, and the resurrection.
Think, mighty God, on feeble man;
How few his hours! how short his span!
Short from the cradle to the grave
Who can secure his vital breath
Against the bold demands of death,
With skill to fly, or power to save?
Lord, shall it be for ever said,
"The race of man was only made
For sickness, sorrow, and the dust?"
Are not thy servants day by day
Sent to their graves, and turned to clay?
Lord, where's thy kindness to the just?
Hast thou not promised to thy Son
And all his seed a heav'nly crown?
But flesh and sense indulge despair:
For ever blessed be the Lord,
That faith can read his holy word,
And find a resurrection there.
For ever blessed be the Lord,
Who gives his saints a long reward
For all their toil, reproach, and pain:
Let all below and all above
Join to proclaim thy wondrous love,
And each repeat their loud Amen.
poem by Isaac Watts
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We have no time to laugh
In the broadfield of life
We find only pain and sorrow
Those who pose to be joyous
Are laughing at themselves
Let's think what is there to smile
A short span of life?
Sixty, seventy, probably hundred years
Is not enough to make us joyful
As we have to present our account
Before Him
In such a short period
We can't do much to please Him
Then why should we be happy?
poem by Mohammad Akmal Nazir
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