Her Letter Dated July 1,2008, To Me, It Is Poem By Itself
I wonder how many more poems related to me I've missed.
I also wonder if you're a mind-reader.
Every springtime when the cherries bloom,
I do think of fire trees dotting Mt. Makiling
and lining the highways of Los Banos.
When wisterias bloom here,
I think of the jade vine in Makiling forest.
The pink, red and white flowers of azalea are pretty when they bloom in April to May,
but they can't compare with the explosion of colors of bougainvillea flowers trailing over the terraces of the buildings of IRRI where I used to work years ago.
I wonder if they are still there.
I did ask my father to plant ylang-ylang or sampaguita years ago,
because in Dipolog,
I can hardly find them anymore.
But father preferred palm trees, orchids, and anthurium.
Yes, I'll always miss the land of my birth.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Then The Tears Shall Start To Fall
Another year has ended
Summer has come for us to bask in the sun
In sandy white beaches with friends,
But I must now take leave
My time has come
Alas, the ylang-ylang trees in our garden
Without me
Shall still bloom and spread its scents
When the wind comes again
Tonight
Then the tears shall start
To fall
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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242
then the tears shall start to fall
Another year has ended
Summer has come for us to bask in the sun
In sandy white beaches with friends,
But I must now take leave
My time has come
Alas, the ylang-ylang trees in our garden
Without me
Shall still bloom and spread its scents
When the wind comes again
Tonight
Then the tears shall start
To fall
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Highways
The road that these tyres run,
Ends nowhere, straight and long,
The drizzle at the windscreen,
The wipers move fast to clean.
The teak trees on the north south highway,
Grown thicker year by year, bougainvillea,
At the divider dwarfed to bloom as required,
Genetically modified plants, shrubs and flowers.
Push that button to open the window,
The fragrant wind enters and rejuvenates,
The sun hides behind the mountain range,
Sprinkles the free gold dust everywhere.
Looking through the sunshade and sunglass,
The fire ball glows as the thirsty lass,
To tie her beautiful fringe and fire logs,
Curved seven colors of ribbon plot.
Miles of palm plantation have young plants,
Red fruits of palm cluster hang to be cut,
The foreign workers travel in the lorries,
To work in the vegetable farms, snoring,
At the rattling of the engines, have peace,
And hope of having money from this land.
The snakiest roads are straightened,
No more hair pin bends and windings,
Universal sign boards on the highways,
Hidden by the trees that planted.
When we go up the hill,
We can feel the pain in the ears,
When we come to the flat land,
Pain will go and we will be stunned.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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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
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Some Flowers Bloom Dead
We didnt make it
We did not pull through
You shouldnt blame me
I dont blame you
Now what else did you think
That I would do?
Ooooh as if it wasnt hard enough
Im so tired of waking up
Feeling bad
You havent been the kind of place I have
Could it hurt you now
To let this pass?
Oooooh as if it wasnt hard enough
You want to make it so much harder
Now in another world
I could learn to forget
But til then Im here
Making room for new regrets
Now some flowers they never bloom
And some flowers just bloom dead
The way you make me feel
I could collapse
An epidemic I cannot outlast
How could you feel used
When I feel trapped?
Ooooh as if it wasnt hard enough
And just as my conscience
Starts to clear
I drag the river and youre still there
The way I bring you down
Could not compare
Ooooh as if it wasnt hard enough
You want to make it so much harder
Now in another world
I could learn to forget
But til then Im here
Making room for new regrets
Now some flowers they never bloom
But some flowers just bloom dead
Now some flowers they never bloom
And some flowers just bloom dead
The way I sleep
This bed just cant be made
I pull the covers up around my head
Now when I think of me
I think of somebody else instead
As if it wasnt hard enough
Youre gonna make it so much harder
Now in another world
I could learn to forget
But til then Im here
Making room for new regrets
Now some flowers they never bloom
And some flowers just bloom dead
Now some flowers they never bloom
And some flowers they just bloom dead
song performed by by Wallflowers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Some Flowers Bloom Dead
We didnt make it
We did not pull through
You shouldnt blame me
I dont blame you
Now what else did you think
That I would do?
Ooooh as if it wasnt hard enough
Im so tired of waking up
Feeling bad
You havent been the kind of place I have
Could it hurt you now
To let this pass?
Oooooh as if it wasnt hard enough
You want to make it so much harder
Now in another world
I could learn to forget
But til then Im here
Making room for new regrets
Now some flowers they never bloom
And some flowers just bloom dead
The way you make me feel
I could collapse
An epidemic I cannot outlast
How could you feel used
When I feel trapped?
Ooooh as if it wasnt hard enough
And just as my conscience
Starts to clear
I drag the river and youre still there
The way I bring you down
Could not compare
Ooooh as if it wasnt hard enough
You want to make it so much harder
Now in another world
I could learn to forget
But til then Im here
Making room for new regrets
Now some flowers they never bloom
But some flowers just bloom dead
Now some flowers they never bloom
And some flowers just bloom dead
The way I sleep
This bed just cant be made
I pull the covers up around my head
Now when I think of me
I think of somebody else instead
As if it wasnt hard enough
Youre gonna make it so much harder
Now in another world
I could learn to forget
But til then Im here
Making room for new regrets
Now some flowers they never bloom
And some flowers just bloom dead
Now some flowers they never bloom
And some flowers they just bloom dead
song performed by by Wallflowers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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112
THIS IS A VERY LONG POEM AND I WANT IT PRUNED:
I used to like gardens, putting flowers on the row,
Tending the soil, cutting the grass,
Removing the weeds,
Pruning the lush greenery of trees
And making the flor-de-luna vines
Create a certain impression
Of a landscape,
A certain motif
A theme of gladness
Something to cherish
I take a good look around my
Little garden
And then I would sit under the shade of flowering champaca trees throwing fragrance
Sprinkling perfume
The neighbors say that the scent of ylang-ylang even reaches their houses
And the white sampaguitas so exuding
I used to dirty my hands putting soil on the flower pots
Designing landscapes of love
And patience, curves and hills,
And tend to all the colors mixing in space,
I used to
I am telling you I stopped
When I married,
My wife comes to my garden
And rearranges everything
She puts what she wants
And pulls what she
Thinks repels her
She cuts the flowers
Puts them on the vase
And uproots some species
That I love
And soon the garden has not become mine
Crowded, and strange
And what used to be my little garden
Green Bermuda grass and patterns
Red Anthuriums heart shaped
Pink Dahlias praying to the sun
Orange Gumamelas dancing in the wind
And yellow dancing ladies beaming with pride
Olive Palms waiving to passers by with all cheers
Violets so assuming
White lilies in pure dignities
Lotuses in meditation moods
Husky Cactuses confident with thorns
Finger Ferns so fine and cool
My garden
Now is a forest
The wanton chaos
My garden is gone
All the patterns changed
Drastically
And she asks me
She asks me
Why I don’t tend the garden anymore
She asks me
If something is wrong
If everything has gone wrong
She asks me if I still love my garden
She asks me if I can begin planting some seeds again
She asks me if I still love her,
AND THIS IS HOW I PRUNED IT:
I like gardens
I don’t tend the garden anymore
I still love her,
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Pruning A Very Long Poem
THIS IS A VERY LONG POEM AND I WANT IT PRUNED:
I used to like gardens, putting flowers on the row,
Tending the soil, cutting the grass,
Removing the weeds,
Pruning the lush greenery of trees
And making the flor-de-luna vines
Create a certain impression
Of a landscape,
A certain motif
A theme of gladness
Something to cherish
I take a good look around my
Little garden
And then I would sit under the shade of flowering champaca trees throwing fragrance
Sprinkling perfume
The neighbors say that the scent of ylang-ylang even reaches their houses
And the white sampaguitas so exuding
I used to dirty my hands putting soil on the flower pots
Designing landscapes of love
And patience, curves and hills,
And tend to all the colors mixing in space,
I used to
I am telling you I stopped
When I married,
My wife comes to my garden
And rearranges everything
She puts what she wants
And pulls what she
Thinks repels her
She cuts the flowers
Puts them on the vase
And uproots some species
That I love
And soon the garden has not become mine
Crowded, and strange
And what used to be my little garden
Green Bermuda grass and patterns
Red Anthuriums heart shaped
Pink Dahlias praying to the sun
Orange Gumamelas dancing in the wind
And yellow dancing ladies beaming with pride
Olive Palms waiving to passers by with all cheers
Violets so assuming
White lilies in pure dignities
Lotuses in meditation moods
Husky Cactuses confident with thorns
Finger Ferns so fine and cool
My garden
Now is a forest
The wanton chaos
My garden is gone
All the patterns changed
Drastically
And she asks me
She asks me
Why I don’t tend the garden anymore
She asks me
If something is wrong
If everything has gone wrong
She asks me if I still love my garden
She asks me if I can begin planting some seeds again
She asks me if I still love her,
AND THIS IS HOW I PRUNED IT:
I like gardens
I don’t tend the garden anymore
I still love her,
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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~April Fool~
April flipped herself in
Like a brand new paragraph
For i'd left off in March
And winter 'twas still the subject matter
The frost all but got me
Hypothermia of feelings
Once felt
Like coming into a heated June
My feelings they began to melt
But April flipped me in
Much like an April Fool
Vunerable and needy
Forgetful of what i had
Learned in school
And so another paragraph
Was formed
Along with the rain you did bring
Remind me-Mother Earth-
If you will
That not all flowers bloom
In the Spring
Aware that the showers
Are supposed to bring
Some Flowers that bloom in May
But ne'er prepared for
Story-tellers with eloquent words
That ne'er mean what they say
The flowers that later bloom
With brillance-aroma and Light
Take out the chill and hold on me still
During a most troubling dark of night
poem by Theodora Onken
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And You...Now Wish So Much for Spring
After Summer days are gone,
You seem to be lurching in hushed compassion...
For someone to carry on,
Those Summer days...
Time has moved away.
As if from you to pawn.
And then when Fall is welcomed in the midst,
Your mind slowly searches...
What it is you believe is missed.,
From a past now reminisced.
As if seeking through memories,
Those hours missed you wish to revisit.
And the buzzing of the bees,
Impatiently waved away.
When Spring budded flowers...
Were ignored but birthing to bloom.
Had no room in your mind,
To find them enchanting.
And you,
Now wish so much for Spring...
To again come soon,
To revisit the bees...
Flowers and trees,
With scented breezes.
You somehow miss.
But next time you promise,
To explore every bit to devour it!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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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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The Deserted Fields
seldom do you find this place
tall grasses on the fields
white herons feeding
upon the green frogs gallivanting
on the muddy pools
bluer skies fresh air
trees nested by sparrows
trails of men
there are no houses here
flowers on the pavement bloom
nobody comes here anymore
most of them have left for good for the city
where work is available
where money can be harvested
like fruits from concrete trees
from cemented fields
under the flicker of neon lights
from unfriendly people
i am here, at home, with all my silence.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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After Reading O'Neills's 'Long Day's Journey Into Night
This house in our home
Of grief and tears
Is filled with foam
Of spoiled kids
After Depression years
A father's dream
A sister's scream
A brother's cry
The dream is dead
The mother's sigh
The dream is alive
But our love is dead
Another brother said
The flowers bloom
Let them bloom
Let them hide our gloom
Then he fled.
poem by M.L. Squier
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Into The Last Month Of Winter
Into the last month of Winter and the wattles cloaked in yellow flowers in bloom
And pink flowers on the camellias and yellow flowers on the broom
And all through the night the white backed magpies sing
On the third week of August coming up to the Spring
On the third week of August in the Southern Hemisphere
One does have a sense that Spring is quite near
The paddocks and parklands are looking quite green
And fragile pink flowers on the fruit trees are seen
Into the third week of August and birds sing in the rain
And all through the night frogs sing in pond and drain
And in the calm of the night in the parkland nearby
The breeding spur wing plovers in their territory cry
And all through the night on the moonlit gum trees
The songs of the magpies carry in the breeze.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Symbolic Spring
Spring is like birth.
You finally come onto the Earth.
You bloom and grow like flowers.
As birth can go on for hours.
The color of you is red.
Like the roses in a rose bed.
Your first breath is a scream of doom.
Not everything has hit full bloom.
poem by Sammi Schneider
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Blooms
In my garden a new rose blooms,
velvet red with heady sweet perfume.
The rose bush itself is carefully tended,
fertilized, when best remembered.
Cut back yearly, pruned in March,
so that when at last
the summer sun breaks through in June
the rose, displays a perfect bloom.
A small distance away, along a weathered fence;
a rose left to ramble, reveals its own elegance.
It’s white, pink flowers cluster
in great multitudes along it’s trailing limbs,
clambering and lightly scented
they grow and bloom untended.
poem by Diana Rosser
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A Love Spring
So Spring warm weather upon with you watch
bloom flowers: Tulip, Orchid, Cherry ect..
That awake Springtime beautiful blue sky
With me, feeling of peace with Spring
Pollen of the flowers trees everywhere
To let you know the Spring coming
Green grass with flowers fill us with joy
Outdoor full of activities
Spring gently warm our souls
To the Spring 's love within you and me forever.
poem by Natasa Tocuc
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April Flower
Bloom for me,
My April flower.
Show your beauty,
I'll take a gander.
The wind scatters your scent
Giving me the feeling of heaven.
You're the perfection i've dreamt,
The one that i've chosen.
Bloom for me,
My April Flower,
And let me see,
Your petals that matches no other.
I know you're not mine
And you did not grew for me
I can only see you again this time
Unable to resist fate's cruelty.
Bloom for me,
My April Flower,
Though we're not destined to be,
Stay in my heart and take shelter.
In my heart, you will not wilt,
You will eternally bloom..
Even if i am burdened by this guilt,
and love is my certained doom.
Bloom for me for the last time,
At least i can call this moment mine
Ignore my reasons that doesn't rhyme,
Show me your beauty that i can't define.
Bloom..for all eternity..April Flower.
poem by John Paul Ang
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Little Child
when you have learned how to climb
the ylang-ylang tree
you finally find the nest of the brown sparrow
and you come to me
bringing four tiny eggs
do you not see two sparrows perched
on a branch?
do you not hear them singing their own
funeral hymn?
sorry, i am out of touch.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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