En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Imagining.....imaging... Aging

youth imagines a lot.
middle age is engaged in
some imaging,
what once was too supple
and firm
and protruding on silky white
wet upper apparel
and what seems to be a tiny
island of a shadow
in between two
sides

then comes the last portion of
the story of the wine,
it is aged

a new flavor comes to the
nostrils:

memories of lights and shadows
oranges and tequila
and hands and thighs
and lips and tongues

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Both Sides Of The Story

though we might hate to admit it, there are always two sides to every story...
Find yourself in the gutter in a lonely part of town
Where death waits in the darkness with a weapon to cut some stranger down
Sleeping with an empty bottle, hes a sad and an empty hearted man
All he needs is a job, and a little respect, so he can get out while he can
We always need to hear both sides of the story
A neighbourhood peace is shattered its the middle of the night
Young faces hide in the shadows, while they watch their mother and father fight
He says shes been unfaithful, she says her love for him has gone
And the brother shrugs to his sister and says looks like its just us from
Now on
We always need to hear both sides of the story
And the lights are all on, the world is watching now
People looking for truth, we must not fail them now
Be sure, before we close our eyes
Dont walk away from here
til you hear both sides
Here we are all gathered in what seems to be the centre of the storm
Neighbours once friendly now stand each side of the line that has been drawn
Theyve been fighting here for years, but now theres killing on the streets
While small coffins are lined up sadly, now united in defeat
We always need to hear both sides of the story
And the lights are all on, the world is watching now
People looking for truth, we must not fail them now
Be sure, before we close our eyes
Dont walk away from here
til you see both sides
White man turns the corner, finds himself within a different world
Ghetto kid grabs his shoulder, throws him up against the wall
He says would you respect me if I didnt have this gun
cos without it, I dont get it, and thats why I carry one
We always need to hear both sides of the story

song performed by by Phil Collins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Trois.....

we are all the same
towards the destination
that island of
desire
three of us in this
boat
body

we do not mention names
what for?
the elements of wind and fire
and hands and thighs
and tongues

making memories on sands
and picking time like pickles
licking the
toothpick
and opening the

legs of what they do not
beforehand
understand as the three of these
who are here

unwind and in freedom
discover
the secret of
what cannot be uttered
here leave the hands
and mouth
open.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Take The Lid Off The Pot

Just take the lid off the pot
Savor all the flavor
Take the lid off the pot
Savor all the flavor
Take the lid off the pot
And savor all the flavor
That's inside of the pot
To then taste what that pot has got

It's been long in simming
With select ingredients
Mouths drool and this is seen
With a stirring up the scent
Eyes are watering with dreams
Now's the time to dip in and get eating
To stop the teasing that was meant

Take the lid off the pot
Savor all the flavor
Take the lid off the pot
Savor all the flavor
Take the lid off the pot
And savor all the flavor
That's inside of the pot.
To then taste what that pot has got

Delicious is the stew
To satisfy those licking lips
Deliciously it soothes
For those who sit and wish
With a wanting more of it!

Just take that lid off the pot
To savor all the flavor
Take the lid off the pot
Savor all the flavor
Take that lid off the pot
And savor all the flavor
That's inside of the pot
To then taste what that pot has got.

'What's the matter? '

There's none left!

'What are you saying?
What do you mean? '

It's gone
All of it
So
Take those memories you've got
And reminisce those wishes
That was inside that pot
There is not even a drop!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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White Sea

white sea spreading before me
so silky
tiny ripples of the wind
from a far
bringing some stories
from the other island

some leaves fall from
the pitogo tree
some flowers pink and white
lay on the shore

white sands of silence
and peace
seeping in my skin
i am barefoot
i am naked down to the waist
i am waiting
for the sun to descend upon the bosom
of the horizon
i am dreaming of palm trees
soft winds
of summer

a door opens in my mind
i get in
stepping into something new

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Story Of Bad Karma

the curtain in the room is transparent
silky, embroidered with tiny light red flowers

light is filtered and air is lazy
laughter is restrained at first until the drinks come

glasses click and talks are varied
times come anew
memories of faces come out from the graves of our
forgetfulness

the room soon is filled with smoke
men smoke and women sip wine on their warm sides

the lives of other people start to be opened
the talkers are surgeons scrutinizing the intestines and bladders

there is a small man whose hands are like cold forks
he is looking at the fat man puffing smoke and bragging about his gains

fortunes backed by crimes and
money laundered and shared in secrets by conspiracies

no one notices a bee landing on the navel of the fat man
whose belly comes out from his tight shirt

instantly the bee left a sting
and the man died.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Tea Shop

The girl in the tea shop
Is not so beautiful as she was,
The August has worn against her.
She does not get up the stairs so eagerly;
Yes, she also will turn middle-aged,
And the glow of youth that she spread about us
As she brought us our muffins
Will be spread about us no longer.
She also will turn middle-aged.

poem by Ezra Pound
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Apple and Rose

My little daughter is a tea-rose,
Satin to the touch,
Wine to the lips,
And a faint, delirious perfume.
But my little son
Is a June apple,
Firm and cool,
And scornful of too much sweetness,
But full of tang and flavor
And better than bread to the hungry.
O wild winds, and clumsy, pilfering bees,
With the whole world to be wanton in,
Will you not spare my little tea-rose?
And O ruthless blind creatures,
Who lay eggs of evil at the core of life,
Pass by my one red apple,
That is so firm and sound!

poem by Karle Wilson Baker
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Scope of time

I who write
Shall have long since gone away
Into the region of shadows

And those who read
Are among the living

Strange things happen
Through the centuries

Flasks of aged wine
Stand waiting to be drunk
The wine cannot quench your thirst

You become a small particle
In the scope of time

The region is a shadow
Light and darkness meet
And do battle.

poem by Howard Johnson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Stepping Into Something New This Summer

white sea spreading before me
so silky
tiny ripples of the wind
from a far
bringing some stories
from the other island

some leaves fall from
the pitogo tree
some flowers pink and white
lay on the shore

white sands of silence
and peace
soft whispers of the winds
seeping in my skin
i am barefoot
i am naked down to the waist
i am waiting
for the sun to descend upon the bosom
of the horizon
i am dreaming of palm trees
soft winds
of summer

a door opens in my mind
i get in
stepping into something new this summer

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In Resisting

in resisting you
your breaths so near my nostrils
your hands
warming my hands
your hair blown by this
scented air
from your eyes
silently too
gazing
sizing what i may give you

i gently
lift your hands
away from my hands
shy away from your hair
trying to entwine
some locks of my hair
i waft the scented
air away from
my nostrils
i gaze away
from your gaze

i walk a step farther
away from you
i become a boat
my mind like paddles
sailing away from you

against the current
i begin to feel
that i am a rock
in the middle
of this raging river

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Aged tree

Under the aged tree
Where we use to sing
Who is in the garden
The tree of my forefather
The unforgettable aged tree

Under the aged tree
Where we listen
To the story of our land
The dove and the jackal
An unforgettable story

Under the aged tree
Where my forefathers
Wept for freedom till death
May there soul rest in peace
And may the story of the aged tree lives in me

poem by Towobola pelumi miktobz
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Shadows Call

There is a shadow in the hall
and I wonder who is there.
I lay in my bed at night
listening to the creaks and groans
of memories made long ago,
of the dreams I once had
in the shadows of my youth.
We leave so many tracks
as our life progresses.
Now as the shadows call,
we wonder which is
the track we are recalling,
but that will soon be forgotten
as sleep captures us
in the night as shadows call.

18 March 2011

poem by David Harris
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Divergence (Pleading with the Muse)

i see the bending
branch and curling smoke
twining, not so different from each other
rising, like spirits that bind
me to this earth
from burning sticks toward murmuring lips

my guitar’s steel strings chime
quiet like whispering rivers, silky
as a sated lover here
where shadows flicker and hover
near gnarling limbs diverged from root
or sky
inviting me to follow

but i dare not leave this smoldering sanctuary on a hill
of our own creating
where your memory lies
waiting in every patch
of moonlit music and stillness

tiny lights remind me of the distance,
and I pray that you come home

poem by Dylan ReyesCairo
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Reasons

do not reason like a stone
staring at you asking for some
justifications about the flowing of a river.
Thoughs, plain thoughts. Nothing to argue
about how the feet must go, without the hands.
There is no sense. The head keeps dignity.
And the heart plans a revolt of an outburst
of red....more red, like a blend of carrots
and a squeeze of oranges, and a roast
of red tomatoes. Taste. Buds. Tongue.
Splashes of blues and greens.
Strokes. Brushes of realities.
Blend. White and Black. Faceless.
You are a brick wall. Tinged. Tanned.

You pretend walking on the sea. You ask
for flight. This is the island of loneliness.
There is no boat. No bridges. Just hands
without fingers. Mouth without lips. Shine.
The moon above you. You sing. Blues.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tequila Talkin'

I called about that conversation that I had with you last night
It must have been a combination of shooters and neon lights
And I didn't really mean to say
I've been losing it since you left
Yeah I may have said the words, but they came from somewhere else
It was just the tequila talkin'
When I told you I'm still not over you
I get a little sentimental when I've had one or two
And that tear in my eye was the salt and the lime
Not the memory of you walkin'
If I said I'm still in love with you
It was just the tequila talkin'
I don't know what they put in Cuervo that got me to say those things
Usually I wouldn't care so much of make such a scene
But seeing you there in that dress you were wearing
Just drove me right out of my head
So don't hold me responsible for anything I might've said
It was just the tequila talkin'
When I told you I'm still not over you
I get a little sentimental when I've had one or two
And that tear in my eye was the salt and the lime
Not the memory of you walkin'
If I said I'm still in love with you
It was just the tequila talkin'
If I said I'm still in love with you
It was just the tequila talkin'

song performed by by Lonestar
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Red Lights

Red lights - on the highway
Headlights - blinding my eye
Red lights - keep me waiting
White lights - drive me insane
Red lights - in the city
Streetlights - high in the night
Searchlights - Im looking for someone
Red lights - young bloods alright
Try as I can but (? )
I cant keep away
No no no no way
Red lights - she knows what Im here for
Headlights - look me in the eye
Red lights - are you looking for danger
White lights - drives me insane
Try as I can but (? )
I cant keep away
No no no, not for one day
Red lights - no questions
Streetlights c youths desire(? )
Red lights - burning desire
White lights c put you to bed (? )
Red lights- in the city
Streetlights - shadow the night
Sunshine - if you need some one
Headlights - that young bloods alright
Try as I can but (? )
I cant keep away
Not today
She brings me to my knees
Try as I can but (? )
I cant keep away
I want you babe(? )
Red lights - oh, I want you
Red lights - I need it
Red lights - you get too heavy
Red lights

song performed by by Uriah Heep
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Love and Sleep

Love and Sleep

Lying asleep between the strokes of night
I saw my love lean over my sad bed,
Pale as the duskiest lily's leaf or head,
Smooth-skinned and dark, with bare throat made to bite,
Too wan for blushing and too warm for white,
But perfect-coloured without white or red.
And her lips opened amorously, and said -
I wist not what, saving one word - Delight.

And all her face was honey to my mouth,
And all her body pasture to mine eyes;
The long lithe arms and hotter hands than fire
The quivering flanks, hair smelling of the south,
The bright light feet, the splendid supple thighs
And glittering eyelids of my soul's desire.

poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Shell on the shelf near my bed

Shell on the shelf near my bed
Take me back to memories box
Last summer on Virgin Island beach
Alone fighting words creating poem
She walks near me without sound
Holding shell in her hands
She comes forward to me
Look at me and smile
Long black hair like water fall
Beauty of Virgin Island
She put the shell on my ear
Sound of waves touching my soul
Hold her hand and start walking
Hand on hand, banded shadows
We walk long way
Ah memories
On other side of bed she lays beside me
Body on body, banded souls
Shell on the shelf near my bed
Take me back to memories box
Last summer on Virgin Island beach

poem by Mohammed AlBalushi
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Hello Shadows

Shadows imitate every thing in life
But it does not argue, fuss, or fight
And can be changed by the reflection of light
Your shadow will imitate everything that you do
For that shadow belongs to you.

The shadow of an object can
hide you from the sun
Not just you but every one.

Shadows have but one color (black)
And it is not belittled or put down
But accepted by all you see
Which makes it one of gods mysteries.

It can be seen in the sunlight
But not in the dark
It can even be seen with artificial light
And the kids have fun with it
Man! What a sight.

It has no face to show emotions
And it will always be by your side
Although at times it must hide.
The sun can not touch it, as it stares up at you
This is something the sun can not do.

The shadow will walk in front of you
Or in back, or walk on your sides
But will always be there wherever you go
For it is something that we all know
And to my shadow I say “hello”.

poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Spilling Of The Wine

The soldiers lie upon the snow,
That no longer gyrates under the spinning lights
Night juggles in her fat black hands.
They will not babble any more secrets to loose-mouthed
nights
Expanding in golden auras,
While sleigh-bells jingle like new coins the darkness
shuffles . . .
They will not drink any more wine—
Wine of the Romanoffs,
Jewelled wine
The secret years worked slowly at
Till it was wrought to fire,
As stones are faceted
Until they give out light.
The soldiers lie very still.
Their shadows have shrunk up close
As toads shrink under a stone;
And night and silence,
The ancient cronies,
Foregather above them.

But still over the snow, that is white as a ram's fleece,
Arms swing like scythes . . .
And shadows in austere lines
Sway in a monstrous and mysterious ritual—
Shadows of the Kronstad sailors
Pouring blood and wine. . .
Wine
Spurting out of flagons in a spray of amethyst and gold,
Creeping in purple sluices;
Wine
And blood in thin bright streams
Besprinkling the immaculate snow;
Blood, high-powered with the heat of old vineyards,
Boring . . . into the cool snow . . .
Blood and wine
Mingling in bright pools
That suck at the lights of Petrograd
As dying eyes
Suck in their last sunset.

The night has a rare savor.
Out of the snow-piles—altar-high and colored as by a
rosy sacrifice— Scented vapor
Ascends in a pale incense . . .
Faint astringent perfume
Of blood and wine.

poem by Lola Ridge
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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