In Choosing Simplicity
friends have gone abroad
for greener pastures and they always make
all the reasons: children in college,
a husband to support, a mortgage to pay,
a house, a new lot,
relatives in the province needing help,
in my simple ways i chose to stay
in this country
thriving on vegetables from my garden,
a government job, though it does not pay much
but i can serve well
my own people,
perhaps there is something more to this decision,
i can take my morning walks
breath fresh air from the sea
reflect by the river
see the kingfisher catching a fish
hear the chirps of newly hatched fledgelings
on their nests
simple pleasures that i have already
gotten used to
which i cannot dispense with
in fact, this i can say
i do not have much like the dollars they earned
in the USA or Canada
but i am more of what i am
when i reduce all these
in poetry.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
A matured Kingfisher and a smarten Carp
A Kingfisher rests on a tree top
And listens to a sad song,
A small carp in a muddy pond
Floats and sings; ' My relatives live in a big river
And why should I suffer here.'
Then Kingfisher mutters;
'Hey! My tiny brother if you cooperate
I could have taken you to that river safely.'
'Certainly I would like to accompany my big brother,
But I had a nightmare yesterday a blue bird has taken my relatives
from the river to a lonely ground and eaten them one by one.'
'Those are dreams and we're friends'
Kingfisher whispers while flying to another tree.'
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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The Loneliness Of A Homecoming
the man older than me
(by 20 years) writes about his
going back home
(after 30 years of working
in the U.S.) AND he was
talking about
changes: the old house where he
spent his childhood
was demolished giving way to a new
mall,
the creek was reclaimed
for an italian restaurant
the park is still there
dotting with the younger generation
who cannot recognize him
neither him knowing them
he is a stranger now in his
hometown
all his friends are gone
some dead
some went away to find greener
pastures abroad
canada, new zealand
dubai, malaysia
others have gone underground
wanted rebels of the
system
he is practically alone now
perhaps regretting why he
came back
what made him do that?
he has no home now, he has no country,
no people.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A kingfisher and a tiny scalloped fish
'Hey! My buddy what's your name please? ' kingfisher questioned from a leafless tree top.
'My name is small king in the muddy pond.' tiny fish replied humbly.
'Oh! Then we are in the same genius family it seems and let's fly together to see our kind neglected relatives abroad.' The scallywag kingfisher requested politely.
Tiny fish sings in the flight; 'Oh! What an amazing sunrise in the broken sky when the depressive election drew nearer.'
* Tiny fish grumbles to publish this in the site as a dedication for the Labor day.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Greener Pastures
Youre always tellin me to go out more
Go ahead, get out and see the world
But then I think, why should i
Id rather stay home and cry
I never thought that I could be the other
The other way like the other ones
Let me open wide, let you see inside
And then you might agree
Would you say they find me unstable
cause they see me act a little bit different
But I know my way to greener pastures and
Think about it, wont you think it over
Please
Without you I can move
I can stretch my arms out, I can feel it
And when Im in my room alone I feel good
Because I dont have to deal with you or the outside world
Would you say they find me unstable
cause they see me act a little bit different
But I know my way to greener pastures and
Think about it, wont you think it over
Please
I guess Ill get over it
Ooh - I guess Ill get over it
I guess Ill get over it
I guess Ill get over it
Would you say they find me unstable
cause they see me act a little bit different
But I know my way through greener pastures
Would you say they find me unstable
cause they see me act a little bit different
But I know my way through greener pastures
Would you say they find me unstable
Cause they see me act a little bit different
But I know my way through greener pastures
Greener pastures
See me act a little bit different
But I know my way through greener pastures
song performed by by Gwen Stefani
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Even the once simple home mortgage now has so many flavors and styles and variations that it is difficult for people to make a decision.
quote by Scott Cook
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Remembering You On A Hot Summer Day
college was not that cruel
we were in fact crazy, looking for thrills
dark movie houses, we tried to know what
rubbing means and touching the wrong parts
of our bodies, we spat we swallowed some
errors and laughed the hardest when we
finally got wet... with what? with whom?
when was that? do you remember?
do you miss them? or me?
the campus grounds were always greener
the trees with more leaves
and the chapel were full of us
worshippers
we had written more poems
that now when we try reading again
our bodies shake
we giggle about our romantic clumsiness
when we fell in love
to the wrong person the wrong time the wrong place
you left the country for good
hmmm, chicago and new york and maryland
dollars, in the name of the mighty dollars and
family above all
college and a new house, a farm to develop
students to send to universities
it is a hot summer day here
i am getting older and
hmm, not really lonelier, just missing you
just plain nostalgic moments
this clumsiness of being out of love
when everyone is getting over with poverty
escaping away from third world prisons
this sigh of not being one with the rest
they have forgotten how to read
the lines of poetry, moving on with their lives
away..... where can the rest be? i do not know...
but just in case.... here i am...it is still me
on a hot summer day...those college days...still clumsy...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Anim
I was born by the river and l live by this river,
For at the age of five i fell in love to the river.
I was married at the age of fifteen to a fisherman,
And i've never been to school before;
But my only education is with this river.
The name of my husband is Anim and,
We live by this river;
For my birth and life are all based by this river!
But today, i am old with my children born on this river.
At dawn i go out with my canoe to catch some fish,
And i have a hook to catch some fish at daylight as well;
For this river had been my life ever since.
My husband is a fisherman and,
I was married to him at fifiteen;
And we've lived all our lives on this river.
This is my home and homw of my children,
This is my way of life and of the people around me,
For this river is all that i know in this world.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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I guess nobody really reads poetry that much
Sometimes I ask
This question if the people out there really read poems?
A laundrywoman for instance
Does she even read? Have I told her that there is poem
For laundry soap and how her laundry can be magical?
Or the carpenter, does he ever know that poetry exists
As he hammers the nail on the stairs or puts the walls
Of the house that he is making? Is there a certain beat
In the strokes of his sawing the wood from a newly cut
Tree? Is there something sentimental about his pencil that
Cuts the exact plank of wood to make the railings of
The veranda?
And what about the garbage collector? Is there poetic
Sense in the smell of garbage that he collects early
Morning of the day?
Or about a friend who spent so much to move to
Some places in the U.S. or Canada or New Zealand
Looking for a dream for a greener pasture in foreign lands?
Well to tell frankly I write a lot about them, this laundrywoman
This carpenter, the garbage collectors and friends who give up the
Hope of finding a good life in my country?
I guess I have the right to ask, if they ever read the poems
About them?
I guess I have to ask if there is really poetry in what they
Do and what they dream and what they worry about?
I drink so much coffee to extend my nights to reach
A certain poetic significance about some uncertainties
And the meaning of all these which may not be
Magical, poetic, which may not after all
Be, in the most plain sense,
Readable.
Sometimes, I go outside this room where I am thinking
About them and write about them and just sit there
On a rocking chair looking far to the boundless sea
And I ask, sometimes, do they really read poetry?
I guess, no one really bothers that much. They are busy.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I'm Tired Joey Boy
I'm tired joey boy while you're out with the sheep
My life is so troubled i can't go to sleep
And i would walk myself out but the streets are so dark
I will wait 'til the morning and walk in the park
Yeah life is so simple when one isn't home
And i'm never complaining when there's work to be done
Oh i'm tired joey boy with the makings of men
I would like to be cheerful again
And ambition will take you and ride you too far
And conservatism will bring you to boredom once more
So go out by the river watch the stream flow
Recall all those dreams you once used to know
The ones you've forgotten that took you away
To pastures not greener but meaner
Yeah the love of the simple is all that i need
I have no time for schism or lovers of greed
Go up to the mountain go up to the glen
Where silence will touch you and heartbreak will mend
song performed by by Tom Petty
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Im Tired Joey Boy
Im tired joey boy
While youre out with the sheep
My life is so troubled
Now I cant go to sleep
I would walk myself out
But the streets are so dark
I shall wait till the morning
And walk in the park
This life is so simple when
One is at home
And Im never complaining
When theres work to be done
Oh Im tired joey boy of the makings of men
I would like to be cheerful again
Ambition will take you
And ride you too far and
Conservatism bring you to boredom once more
Sit down by the river
And watch the stream flow
Recall all the dreams
That you once used to know
The things youve forgotten
That took you away
To pastures not greener but meaner
Love of the simple is all that I need
Ive no time for schism or lovers of greed
Go up to the mountain, go up to the glen
When silence will touch you
And heartbreak will mend.
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Simple Man
A simple man with simple ideas,
that’s what he, thinks of himself,
but others look differently at him.
They say that he has a heart way off the charts,
for all the things that he does.
For the words of comfort that he says,
and the support he brings to all he meets.
He cannot see it though;
to him it is just something
he has always done naturally.
To him there is nothing special,
in all that he does.
Being kind is no special trait;
everyone can do it.
Loving everything and everyone that comes his way,
a lot of people out there can do that too.
So why do people choose him?
He is only human after all,
no more thoughtful than most.
Some even think him as an angel,
he smiles at that, and wishes
that he had a guardian angel of his own,
to give him advice when
he trying to ease someone else’s pain.
However, he is a simple man,
who walks through life,
only doing simple things.
The only time you will see him frown,
is when he wants to help someone,
and finds that he cannot.
It s then he feels he is failing them,
because of something he could not do.
Therefore, if you ever meet this simple man,
cheer him up a little bit.
Personally I would like to be like him
and all that he does possess,
but my head is buried in the sand,
too much of the time,
to do all the things he does.
poem by David Harris
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A sonnet for lovers
‘A sonnet for lovers’
(‘Dedicated to the one I love’)
It’s the simple things
The simple things you do
Not just the simple things
It’s the complicated things too
The simple act of holding my hand
The simple morning cup of tea
Listening to my favourite band
The complicated act of listening to me
You make it simple to love you
As simple as can be
You make the complicated act simple too
The completed act of loving me
One thing that’s not that complicated
As a matter of fact it’s simple
I love you above all others
This is dedicated to the one I love
This simple sonnet for lovers
MICMAC
poem by Michael Micmac Mccrory
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Whippoorwill River
(Vince Gill / Dean Dillon)
My dad was a man
With two hard workin' hands
He always took time out for me
Well, I'd come home from school
Load up that canoe
He'd say, "What's the bet gonna be?"
Chorus:
We'd float that boat down old Whippoorwill River
Catch us a big one or two
Well, he taught me about life
And its simple pleasures
And whatever else that he knew.
Then I met a girl
With a head full of curls
A pure and innocent heart
Oh, I knew she was the one
And when weekends would come
Wild horses couldn't keep us apart.
Chorus:
We'd run those ponies down Whippoorwill River
And I'd steal a sweet kiss or two
She taught me about love
And its simple pleasures
And whatever else that she knew.
Well, I married that girl
And we have a song
And he looks like my daddy used to
Oh, his mom and I
Always find time
To do things that he likes to do.
Chorus:
Well, he loves to go fishing on Whippoorwill River
And ride in his grandad's canoe
We teach hima bout life
And its simple pleasures
And pass down a memory or two.
Yeah, he loves to go fishing on Whippoorwill River
And catch him a big one or two
He's learning about life
And its simple pleasures
And making a memory or two.
Ooh...
song performed by by Vince Gill
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Upon Learning The Death Of A Dedicated Algebra Teacher
the obituary reads that mr. cruz
my algebra teacher in college
died the other day
i am saddened
and my mind travels back
in time when he taught
us how to find the x's
in relation to the given y's
that a value assigned to
some givens can lead me
to find an unknown
with the simple way
of finding the right
connection
it is all in the mind
and soon you will find
the solution
to a given problem
he once lectured it
bedridden for years
he always lived a very
simple life
(poverty
the poor professor
thriving on a meager
income from the
university supporting
his children to earn
a college degree)
and now that he died
my classmate who
becomes a practitioner
of medicine and earning
her big bucks for her
living says
'i have pity for him'
she is correct,
but from far
i am saying too my prayers
for him
that his soul may rest in peace
as he was restless
once with the odd numbers
mostly they are not even.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Teleman, viola concerto
We were three close
Friends
When we were young
We go to a river
At the back
Of our house
There is a big
Plank of driftwood
And we all ride
On it as though
It were a big
Boat and our
Hands are paddles
We sail
And we laugh
The place
Is off limits
For us children
In fact
Father says
Beware
A big crocodile
Lives there
And swallows
A child in whole
We did not take
Heed
We are the
Hardheaded
Children and this
Something
Traumatic
On that river
At the back of
The house
Where the
Big plank
Of wood which
We ride on
Carried us
All laughing
To the other
Side
Only the two
Of us
Survived
What we heard
Was only a
Splash
And the river
Was staining
The color
Of blood
It was the splash
That swallowed
My hardheaded
Youth.
I remember
This teleman
Viola concerto
A burial
Without a
Dead body
Twas a simple
Floating of
A candle boat
On the river
And then
All the violins
And the viola
Sounded to the
Cry of the mother
Who never
Believed my
Story of a splash.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Join
Join, join, join, join laughing club,
Worry, tension at home and not club,
Raise your hands and loudly laugh,
Belly should go in and look only half,
In parking lot or in green garden,
Under shed of trees where fruits are laden,
Fresh morning air and hanky round hair,
Avoid sitting home or house in the chair,
People may laugh or may cut even jokes,
You may find discomfort at their pokes,
You are very safe and free from smokes,
Start the exercise after brief walks,
Fresh intake of air and slowly to inhale,
You may feel big as fish whale,
This is not joke or simple tale,
Cheeks may become rosy and not look pale,
Well, any exercise in morning, is good for health,
Not to be compared with money or wealth,
If health is good everything will be good,
Morning will be cheerful with good mood,
Open laugh with big noise may scare all,
It may look as if distress call,
But helps to remove tension,
Disease out of question,
All steps to keep one always fit,
It required only some steps to meet,
Remain calm and cool with healthy mind,
Happiness and freshness one always find
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Simply Me
I find the simple pleasures in life
To be the most beautiful
They make me feel...
Whole again..
Complete
They touch my soul
And make her sing
In ways those contrived things never can..
The way the grass dances in a light summer breeze
The way the sun cuts through gray clouds
And,
Hits the leaves on the trees
Making them glow from within...
This beautiful, sliver, peaceful, green
I love seeing bluebirds, hummingbirds, and dragonflies
Flying about with this freedom I long to have and feel
The woods are so inviting
To go exploring, getting lost in mossy green things
Come up unexpectedly on a clear blue stream
To lie down in some grassy place and look up at the sky
To see the starts at night
And forget the science
Just enjoy being insignificant in this universe
Appreciate their brilliance in the velvet night sky
Allow them to be something magical..
I long for feeling..
Something
That peacefulness that comes from an inner satisfaction
No longer having to deal with the hum drum of life
No longer worrying about...
Whatever it is that I'm currently mulling over in my mind
I live to live a simple life
Simple pleasures
Fresh cut wild flowers
The smell of newly laundered linen sheets
Dancing to Sinatra as I cook my evening meal..
Not having to wake up early in the morning
Enjoying the perfect cup of creamy sweet coffee
Indulging in the best vanilla ice cream hot fudge sundae
That wonderful glass of wine
To laugh with true friends
I don't need many
As long as they are real
Perhaps I ask for too much
Asking for such a simple existence
Contrived things are so much easier to come by...
Maybe I long for simpler times
Only found in history books or fairy tales
But,
What does an old soul do
When she has a young spirit
I'm a bag of contradictions
Loving simple things and high end fashion
You can let it be, but, please try to do it in a way I'll like...
It's not a big deal...until it is...
I can forgive you your greatest faults
But I would never expect you to forgive me mine...
I'll try my hardest
Until I'm done..
And when I'm done
You can't convince me to try...
If I make a mistake
I'll beat myself up over it
Longer than you can imagine
If you make a mistake
I'll tell you it'll be alright
I do my best to console a friend in need..
Organized religion
Makes me laugh
But my understanding of God
Brings me peace
I think too much
And, I think too long
I think too often
Of the things I can control
Of things I can not control
A bag of contradictions
If you reach in, you'll never know what you'll find
So,
I dream
I dream of complicatedly beautiful
Simple things
poem by Rabia Minhas
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Forgiveness
When we step on a heart,
to flirt with another,
and then get forgiven:
the process looks simple,
the souls that have love,
traumatized a lot,
to have the courage,
to keep the head high,
pretend to be happy,
to make the perfection,
out of us, the waywards,
are the reasons,
for the existence
of Happy families..
The process may look simple,
for the need of it,
thousands years of obedience,
those men and women,
are the reasons,
for this earth,
to have the human nests,
that procreate generations,
of level headed individuals,
who have had harmony at home,
enjoyed the peace,
at the expense of these victims,
who have the courage,
to forgive, but suffer in silence.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Shy and shame
I am hasmukh by name
But still feel shy and shame
Offer very good smile
To live and love little while
Not all may understand
I feel lonely and stand
No friends no relatives or accomplice
No one to praise and offer promise
People are relaxed when visit me
They feel fresh and very much free
I make them burst in laughter
They realize only when come in after
I offer no medicine
I have no ready made vaccine
I know I can grow vegetables in famine
I know how to make friends and consider them mine
Love may not end half way
People will not desert and run away
Smile is powerful weapon
It can be offered to foe even
Only those people can smile and stay
Who have guts to make path in difficult way
Rest can offer forced smile in disguise
They can not make ship to sail or cruise
If you can take away unhappiness for a while
You can restore person a beautiful smile
He will go with full of contentment
Where the chance will be then for discontentment?
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Green Eyes
got green eyes
as green as grass
on mama's lawn
got green eyes
over greener pastures
on the other fence
got green eyes
baby over your green eyes
when i stay
and you leave me
when you tell me
it is over
got green eyes
as green as
broccoli & lettuce
for my salad
that i serve
and share with my
newly found lover
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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