High Power Lines
high power lines
along the green
ricefields
two black
birds
so interconnected
bridged
and yet
unengaged
with each other
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
All Things All Persons Are Interconnected
in truth all of us are related, interconnected, by blood, by flesh,
by thought, by the mere idea of interconnection we are all
interconnected,
on the philosophy of language
unless we are interconnected there
should have been no word as
interconnected,
soon you will discover that there is a thin line connecting your
eyelash to the tip of you toe that when you cut a dead nail
a tear may fall
unseen tears
that your dream may not even notice,
the butterfly to the star,
the star to the starfish
the atom to the the moon
the foxhole to the blackhole of this universe,
the lullabye of mother
to the hum of the earth
well detected by our human ears
that too the sun
has ears and fingers of its own
or the stars its sewing needles
that fall from the dark night skies,
my mind away many many miles from you
is interconnected
to your longing,
my death is your death too
and my dream of being reborn
is relative to the dusts
rested on your feet,
we are interconnected and soon we will know
that we are one
that this river that we pass for a hundred times
seen from above
this earth
is just one winding river
that we step upon
our eyes duped by all these
ordinary rocks and mountains
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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For My Neighbor
the black birds are
up
hovering over the
green coconut palms
beside the roof of
her new house
she remembers
Noah and her heart
begins to weep
there are other things
that i can see
from all these black birds
my heat too weeps
but i shall not give
her any hint at all.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Green Mansions
Green mansions, high upon a hill
Green mansions, quiet and still
Big wall all around
Its where my baby will be found
Waiting for that day, to come
Green mansions, high upon a hill
In the countryside where the birds begin to sing
Free from the glamour of the world
Where the story does unfurl
Waiting on that day to come
Tried in vain to forget
Just how it ought to be
Over and over and over and over again
'bout what it means to me
Green mansions, I can hear the mocking bird
Birds singing in a melancholy wood
The big wall all around
Where my baby will be found
Waiting for that day to come
Well Ive tried in vain, to forget
Yeah what it ought to be
Over and over, over again
Just what it means to me
Green mansions, high upon a hill
Green mansions, quiet and still
Big wall all around
Where my baby will be found
Waiting for that day to come
Green mansions, high upon a hill
Green mansions, quiet and still
Big wall all around
Where my baby will be found
Waiting for that day to come.
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Castles In The Cloud
castles in the cloud
ivory towers and
the fearful cloth of
the black robe
crowns and names
and titles of royalty
badges and lines
power numbers
and marks of
high society,
you know me
i smash them all.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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One Black Bird Dead
three black birds high
up in the air
flying
playing this early morning
on their
swift wings
i heard a single shot from the
hill and one black bird fell
the other two birds continue
to fly away
so frightened
they continue flying away
from that hill
a man with a brown cap emerges
and picks a dead black bird
on the rocky ground
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Three Black Birds High Up In The Air
three black birds high
up in the air
flying
playing this early morning
on their
swift wings
i heard a single shot from the
hill and one black bird fell
the other two birds continue
to fly away
so frightened
they continue flying away
from that hill
a man with a brown cap emerges
and picks a dead black bird
on the rocky ground
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Beak Kind To Birds!
Beak kind to birds both near and far,
Both high and low as well...
To me, each bird's a superstar!
In fact, to me, they're swell!
Beak kind to birds and show you care
With titbits now and then...
And watch with wonder as they share
Their breakfast once again!
Beak kind and keep your cats at bay...
Else feeding birds take flight!
It's nicer seeing birds at play
Than watching them take fright!
Beak kind to birds, give them their space
So they may co-exist...
For none on Earth can take their place,
So they'd be sorely missed!
Beak kind to birds, they'll flock to you -
They're all our feathered friends!
It doesn't matter, black or blue...
Beak kind - 'cos it makes sense!
poem by Denis Martindale (2003)
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Emma Concepcion Zanoria
emma of the green meadows
on the skies of white and blue
along the paths of flowers
of reds and yellows
how often have i dreamed of you
on the valleys of ricefields
where the winds of Karupay pass
along the tall coconut trees
to the mysteries of the
pacific ocean
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Do not call for black power or green power. Call for brain power.
quote by Barbara Jordan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On Cold Winter Nights
With much weaker power the sun goes on its way
disappearing at night somewhere up high
while in winter everything living
is yearning for heat, to something that brings warmth
With the cold feeling as if seconds are jumping much too slowly
with you shivering later in the last part of the night.
With much weaker power the sun goes on its way
disappearing at night somewhere up high
When people insist on light,
with birds of prey gliding on the cold air,
lovers finding each other, giving love freely
until the next twilight
with much weaker power the sun goes on its way.
poem by Gert Strydom
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A Tower of Power
We will build a tower
With unbridled spring-water attitudes
Flowing with fires of charity
For all the suffering multitudes
Dispossessed and swallowing poverty
We will give them power
We will build a tower
With lots of windows and no ears
With promises for those who have ceased their quest
For the young and old in years
For those who no longer turn west
We will give them power
We will give them power
Give them tomorrows and rainbows in tomorrow’s flowers
Help them fill pitchers with milk, honey, and cream
Reap the green of crops they have never seen
Shelter them from the cold, black screams
They will scale the tower
We will build a tower
They will scale like goats and soar like eagles
Who climbs higher than these birds?
They will peer through rose-colored gothic windows
And see the many rainbows of blooming flowers spilling colors
They will have the power
We will build a tower
For those near and far
Those who lost their dreams
Those who ceased the quest
Those no longer traveling west
Our actions will speak louder than words
They will sing the music of the birds
Learn to disregard the terms
Of all their unanswered yearns
- June 5,2007
poem by Ben Gieske
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Green Ricefields
green ricefields spreading to a distance
some white herons circling and landing finding a hiding place
for a while gone and then the wind comes from the trees swaying
the white herons in a flock of fives fly away again
to another rectangular spread of a green ricefield
a scarecrow stands in the middle of the place
the clouds arrive turning from pale to grey to blue
the sun has come in full grandeur
i am just amazed, sitting on a bench praying
simply watching and wondering
they all say that i am lazy and doing nothing
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Miranda
My dear one is mine as mirrors are lonely,
As the poor and sad are real to the good king,
And the high green hill sits always by the sea.
Up jumped the Black Man behind the elder tree,
Turned a somersault and ran away waving;
My Dear One is mine as mirrors are lonely.
The Witch gave a squawk; her venomous body
Melted into light as water leaves a spring,
And the high green hill sits always by the sea.
At his crossroads, too, the Ancient prayed for me,
Down his wasted cheeks tears of joy were running:
My dear one is mine as mirrors are lonely.
He kissed me awake, and no one was sorry;
The sun shone on sails, eyes, pebbles, anything,
And the high green hill sits always by the sea.
So to remember our changing garden, we
Are linked as children in a circle dancing:
My dear one is mine as mirrors are lonely,
And the high, green hill sits always by the sea.
The Artists.....
the role of a true artist
is to put order to the messy state of things
chopped lines are interconnected again
colors are categorized to a harmonious blending
a room of scattered old and dirty clothes
bedsheets in disarray
pillows on the floor
paper scratches and pens and ink spilled
the artist picks them all up
and puts them properly back to the places
where they must be
for at the beginning there was an order of perfection
but then this universe bangs itself against a black space of a wall
and goes into an accelerated entropy
a scattering, a chaos pursuing upon another chaos
expanding litters of planets and stars
and God the Artist gathers them all into One
Harmony, the Silenced Storm, the Wellness and Wholeness
of These All
We are all these Artists, God's Children looking for Peace.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Jump Start
In the dark of the city backwoods, something stirs then slips away.
Law and order in darkest knightsbridge. crime and punishment at play.
Hey, mr. policeman wont you come on over. hook me up to the power lines
Of your love.
Jump start, or tow me away.
And through the bruised machinery, the smoking haze of industry.
Another day with ball and chain. I do my time, then home again.
Hey, mrs. maggie wont you come on over. hook me up to the power lines
Of your love.
Jump start, or tow me away.
Well, should I blame the officers? or maybe, I should blame the priest?
Or should I blame the poor foot soldier
Whos left to make the most from least?
Hey, jack ripper wont you come on over. hook me up to the power lines
Of your love.
Jump start, or tow me away.
You can blame the newsman talking at you on the satellite t.v.
And if youre fighting for your shipyards, you might as well just blame the sea.
Hey, mr. weatherman come on over. hook me up to the power lines
Of your love.
Jump start, or tow me away.
song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fly high
Fly, i will fly high
Fly, i will fly high
Like the birds in the sky
They are destined to fly
No matter the situation
I am beyond your expectation
For i am part of creation
Till i reach my destination
I will fly high
Fly, i will fly high
Haters will lie
Enemies will deny
Don't be shy
But fly high
Fly, i will fly high
Fly, i will fly high
poem by Matt Ancient
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Them Cool Green Leaves
Them cool green leaves
That comes around
When spring breezy breeze
Is again here found
And night becomes like day
With its reddish sky
When song birds sing and play
In the twilight high
Them cool green days
When a heart beat's found
With playing soft haze
To the earth all bound
And the dark night's stray
Has said its goodbye
When love is okay
And blue is our time's sky
Refrain
Just listen to the songs
That flow so smoothly on
The many sing-alongs
Those never from life are gone
Every tune that fills the air
With beautiful tender plays
And we together share
In many different ways
Them Cool Green Leaves
That comes around
When spring breezy breeze
Is again here found
And night becomes like day
With its reddish sky
When song birds sing and play
In the twilight high
Refrain
* Peter S. Quinn - Them Cool Green Leaves Free Mp3 Download
http: //peter-s-quinn-them-cool-green-leaves-mp3-downlo ad.kohit.net/_/319663
(There are over 50 different texts written on this poem, this one made now, as I was listening…[will be revised later on, perhaps] I hope you enjoy it; -)
poem by Peter S. Quinn
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January rains, as i remember
January rains fall in all the green ricefields
The carabaos graze the little brown children run and play
The rainbow comes like the Gumamelas in multicolors
In her little garden in her little house
Where the little people just have a little talk
Then with little cups of coffee to keep their little tongues warm
The rains of
January slowly fall
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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How Green
How green is your valley
How lush is your path to your garden of love
Is it overshadowed by the cross of persecution
How green is your memory
Is it poverty and ruin choked with weeds of despair
Is it blossoms of peace and pleasures
Beyond which there is none to compare
How green is your table
Is it filled with delights of wicked consumption
Is it dangled on meat from the hook in your lair
From that insidious malicious sinister dare
Money
How green
How green
How green
How green is your tomorrow
How green is your eternity
How green
Or is it black and white
poem by Gary Revel
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Choose Your Color
I will paint the walls blue
Blue is calm, blue is power
Blue is the color of tranquility
Do you see my colors yet?
I will paint the ceiling green
Green is healthy, green is peace
Green makes time move faster
Do you see my colors yet?
I will paint the floor red
Red is fire, red is danger
Red is the symbol of passion
Do you see my colors yet?
I will paint the sky purple
Purple is sad, purple is gloomy
Purple is the color of romance
Do you see my colors yet?
I will paint the tree black
Black is fear, black is death
Black is the symbol of grief
Do you see my colors yet?
I will paint the street yellow
Yellow is happy, yellow is fresh
Yellow is the color of sunshine
Do you see my colors yet?
I will paint the fence orange
orange is wisdom, orange is wealth
Orange is the color of success
Do you see my colors yet?
I will paint everything white
White is good, white is pure
White is the color of faith
Have you seen my colors yet?
(August 16th,2006)
poem by Christopher G. Turner
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