Impermanence
like the colored sands of the
Buddhist monks of Mandala
the facts of our lives
that took
us years and years
to establish
after a very careful tapestry
of our own artistic instincts,
soon shall be
gone, mixed, castles and temples
turning into
sand dunes inside our hands
and we swim to the river of time
and there let
all the sands spill back to the water
that does not just flow
but run & run
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Impermanence Of Our Lives
what we carefully build
for years and years
like a mandala sand painting
of the monks
we soon shall destroy
we soon shall leave and
had that feeling of abandon
like the colored sands that we
finally sprinkle on the river
of life.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Sands Of Time
From the beginning of this own world,
man has shed a million tears.
Tears for the pain they've had
in their lives and for all the
wasted years.
But the saddest tears that
ever fell, fell not from
just any man's eyes. But
they were shed by my Savior
and they stained The Sands Of Time.
And as the Father looked upon His
Son, He had to turn His face away.
And as Jesus hung upon that cross,
He gave His all for us that day.
And as the tears ran down His face,
as He cried, mixed with the blood
that flowed from His side. Oh what
a sacrifice of love and it stained
The Sands Of Time.
Oh yes it stained The Sands Of Time.
It stained The Sands Of Time.
The blood that was shed for a lost
and dying world, oh yes it stained
The Sands Of Time, of time.
song performed by by LeAnn Rimes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sandcastles
While sifting through old photographs
Of childhood, black and white,
I came across a scene that stirred
My memory, overnight,
Three children by a sandcastle,
The finest ever made,
My sister, me and Hazel,
Made with bucket, and with spade,
With towers, crenellations
And surrounded by a moat,
The sand was dry, the tide was out
It stood there proud, remote.
Though sixty years have passed since then,
That camera shutter's sight
Caught just one random moment in
An afternoon's delight,
It froze that moment of our lives,
That castle on the sand,
And though the tide swept in that day
That castle, still it stands,
While we watched as the sands of time
Wrought havoc in our lives,
The moat we built could not protect
From husbands, or from wives.
The tide swept in and filled the moat,
The sides began to melt,
The water undermined the walls
And suddenly, they fell,
The love that we had built them with
Was washed right out to sea,
And left no sign of love behind,
For Hazel, Tess or me,
And then we learned the lesson
That our lives revolved around,
That nothing built will last unless
It's built on solid ground.
We spent our lives in dreaming
Building castles in the sand,
Believing that the tide would never turn
To wreck our plans,
We thought love was the answer
'Til discovering, too late,
That love swings on a pendulum,
The other end is hate,
And just as tides flow in and out
And level out the land,
The tides of life wreak havoc with
Our castles in the sand.
7 February 2009
poem by David Lewis Paget
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The State Of Non-meaning
so many sands
long term plans
so many grains of sands
on the beach on the mind of man
oh, i guess
so many poems composed
each poem has become a grain of sands
so many grains
from my mouth
to my hands to my feet to the beach to the sands of time
in search for meaning
when actually there is none.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Sands Of Time
The trickling of sand has started now
for the moments we shall share.
There will not be enough time for us,
not enough time to spare.
Let's turn the hourglass over and over
so our time cannot run out.
For our love, my sweet is all that counts.
It's all I think about.
The sands of time one by one
are traveling much too fast.
How can we slow them down, my dear?
How can we make them last?
Yours is the heart that beats my life,
one beat at a time.
Yours is the mind that connects with me
one thought at a time.
And as we travel through our lives
those grainy sands still fall,
making me want to hang on tight
and stop them once and for all.
But life is movement and must go on
so take my hand and stay
close by my side through all our moments
as the sands of time fall away.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Memories of Summers Spent
For Faizil
I remember the sand dunes of Aniston
Eastwards on the south of the Western Cape coast
The blue skies hanging over
Illuminated by the burning sun
Within the sand dunes concealed
Lies the bones of shipwrecked sailors of yesteryear
Contrast of desert and ocean
Like two dimension woven in one
Dwarfed by the sands of time
I remember how we raced to the top of the dunes
Breathless without thought
Just the absolute carefree bliss of being children
The race down was a running and a tumbling
Our summers spent camping at Arniston
When finally at the bottom, we would lay exhausted
Panting, catching our breath
poem by Persian Khushi
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Summerday Sands
I once met a girl with the life in her hands
And we lay together on the summerday sands.
I gave her my raincoat and told her, ''lady, be good!
And we made truth together, where no one else would.
I smiled through her fingers and ran the dust through her hands ---
The hour-glass of reason on the summerday sands.
We sat as the sea caught fire.
Waited as the flames grew higher
In her eyes.
We watched the eagle born ---
Wings clipped, tail feathers shorn
But we saw him rise ---
Over summerday sands.
Came the ten oclock curfew.
She said, ''i must start my car.
Im staying with someone I met last night in a bar.
I called from my wave top ---
''at least tell me your name!
She smiled from her wheelspin
And said, ''its all the same.
I thought for a minute, jumped back on dry land ---
Left one set of footprints on the summerday sands.
I once met a girl with the life in her hands
And we lied together on the summerday sands.
song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Friend You Must....
we always want to spend
Christmas on the beach
what is it that we want to be reminded of?
the sands?
yes what about the sand?
when we arrive there
the kids run to meet the sea with laughter
the sea breeze is salty yet cool
the trees are tall and big and shady
the silent sands are peopled now
we will be too busy with fun
feeling saved and going public with
all that happiness gives us
the silent sands look at us with a gaze
it has a record of the past
it has absorbed the memories of the sea
it looks at us with pity
what is it about the sands?
and their silence?
i think i know it
but my friend you must find it yourself.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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River Death
River was
Running...
With water...
Water are
Nice too
Play with sands...
Trees...
Mountain rocks...
Swmming fishes...
Some time jump
With dive and swime...
Sun was see
Face at river water
Mirror...?
moon was
Click the eye
About
The river....
Animals are swimming
Birds also drinking...
People also
Swmming too
Wash the cloths...
River was
Every day run
Simply not sad...
At rainey time...
At winter time...
Summer time
River not run
Stop to stop
Death the river...
Sky cry...
With rain
Run the river...!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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The Falling Sands Of Time
the falling sands of time
spend themselves like the way you lose yourself
bit by bit to the floors of waste
but you have your hands
and your eyes do not fail to watch
you have the power in your mind
to turn back the sundial
and let the sands of time recover themselves
all for you
giving back that confidence
for rebirth
always always there are beginnings
your heart shall tell
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Self-searching
we always want to spend
Independence Day on the beach
what is it that we want to be reminded of?
the sands? yes what about the sand?
the grains?
when we arrive there
the kids run to meet the sea with laughter
the sea breeze is salty yet cool
the trees are tall and big and shady
the silent sands are peopled now
we will be too busy with fun
feeling saved and going public with
all that happiness gives us
the silent sands look at us with a gaze
it has a record of the past
it has absorbed the memories of the sea
it looks at us with pity
what is it about the sands and their silence?
i think i know it but my friend you must find it yourself.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sands Of Time
It was a time gone by
a time with no goodbye
but I left you
in the sand and the wind
You gave me your hand
but I couldn't hold on
you was taken
by the winds of time
Sands of time
blowing in the wind
when will they come for me
when will they come for me
I see your soul
dancing in the sands of time
I hold out my hand
but I just feel the sand and the wind
god forgive me
I can't go on
living in a world I don't belong
see my soul flying in the night
I will find you
no matter how long
I will find you
Sands of time
blowing in the wind
when will they come for me
when will they come for me
poem by Dave Alan Walker
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Sand Dunes
Stretched far and wide,
Are the piles of sands
The waves of wind creates
Thousands at a time and
Thus recreates another with
The strong sway, making fool
The beholder mingles one
With the other, I look for
The first one, lose the second
Third and innumerable...
Turns the number, but
None to be mine one and
Only sand dune, my footprint
Runs to be one with the other,
Gets nothing, only a whirling,
A very clear whirling of sand
Breaking one after another into
Gulleys and again into dunes.
I also turn to be a dot, in the
Sea of sand, a mere dot!
poem by Nilakshi Das
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Love Sonnet 169 I Have Seen Sadness On The Prestine Sand
I have seen sadness on the pristine sand,
In faded footprints, you have failed to make,
More so that sands were once huge rocks, so grand,
Before this fate, that only sands could take:
To become the dunes, were dwelt my sorrow,
In dire stillness that aggravates my loss,
The craved tenderness, which you did not show,
That spawned a desert, much too wide to cross;
Though minute are the grains that slip my grasp,
Like truths that seep through a mind grief ridden,
Vicious as though rose harboring a wasp,
Thereby, in sweetness lurks its sting, hidden;
......Yet, your footprints did not last till evening,
......As blown sand covered your tracks of leaving.
.
poem by Reyvrex Questor Reyes
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The River Of Ruin
ALONG by the river of ruin
They dally — the thoughtless ones,
They dance and they dream
By the side of the stream,
As long as the river runs.
It seems all so pleasant and cheery —
No thought of the morrow is theirs,
And their faces are bright
With the sun of delight,
And they dream of no night-brooding cares.
The women wear garlanded tresses,
The men have rings on their hands,
And they sing in their glee,
For they think they are free —
They that know not the treacherous sands.
Ah, but this be a venturesome journey,
Forever those sands are ashrift,
And a step to one side
Means a grasp of the tide,
And the current is fearful and swift.
For once in the river of ruin,
What boots it, to do or to dare,
For down we must go
In the turbulent flow,
To the desolate sea of Despair.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Trenches of Melancholy
Your loss,
Has left me,
In infinite sadness;
As my grains of sand are displaced, grain by grain;
By your horizon-bound tide;
As the sand castles,
That were built deep within,
The walls of my temple,
Are now fragile to the torrents of your brine;
As I gather on abyssal depths;
Scattered on the ocean floor;
Far from your graceful self waltzing below the heavens;
A fateful journey of divergent destinies;
As sand castles part pristine white sands;
To embrace trenches of melancholy.
Oh the fragility of love!
poem by Dilantha Gunawardana
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Mahanadi Poet Vavroovahana Patra
Mahanadi Flows from time immemorial on Earth;
Pure water attracts people with mirth.
Mom's fun mirrors on the water;
Beholding, devotees desire pleasure.
Sun god lessees the river in mom;
The purple beam plays on the water in dawn.
The river is miraculous, mysterious.
Allures all lovers with pleasure.
The lap of Nature in ever enchanting;
The river is ever delighting.
Cosy pebbles, sands allure travelers;
Lovers sit on cosy sands with pleasure.
Brudhalinga on the river allures the poet;
Poet surrenders on the feet of got with delight.
God is adomed with fragrant flower;
Allures all devotees with pleasure.
The pure water bathes the feet of Almighty;
The river is proud with gaiety.
Fragrance of flowers enhances devotion;
Devotees enjoy the beauty of god's creation.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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Moon Face
One day in June, if the facts are known,
or was it that the myths have grown
about you see what lay in the sky on
view to all 'till the day we die.
I mean the message drawn right across,
the purple-face where some alien being
dictated as the correct time and place,
to let us see how strong they were
before the invasion of what we all fear.
But the people laughed, some laughed
and cried because what the saw was a
dog, just like each one's mutt who had
only gone and died. But still the aliens
made a show, of the power of purple
that which makes our minds grow.
Ask any Hindu or Holy Man and watch
how his face set in a stare across the
sands, those sands of time change
and trickle in but he now asks if the
aliens come for blood to spill, thrill
or bend to their dog-brain, dogged will.
poem by Cleveland Gibson
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What We Have Become
in the shallow part of the river
we decide to play: life is a game
we like to believe that
our arms drip like cold water
on the side of the glass
that you hold when you have felt
the first thirst
i shall not satisfy you
and so i have become the bait
of the fish
you have become more interested
on what i have to say
not to be mistaken as trivial
i have also taken more glances at you
i believe you
and so with this trust i ask you to go with me
to the deep part of the sea
i swim first then you follow
you know how to swim and you swim well in fact
like a fish
at the shallow part
i told you that nothing is hidden
nothing signifies anything
the stones are stones
and nothing else
your questions are just ordinary questions
which i have answered to well
and you believe me more until
we dive deep
deeper into the ocean floor
where the sands though silent
have more to say
than what i can tell you
the stones on the sides of the deep
now are telling you more
and you begin to understand
why for all those years
on that dry land
i have kept my silence
my distance.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Everyday
Part I
sands, sands, sands
and the dunes
the waves and wind
PartII
the city, city, city
steel and brick
and slabs of concrete
Part III
the dreams, dreams, dreams
that I had when
I was young
Part IV
reality, reality, reality
what I grew up
to be everyday
poem by Midnights Voice
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