In Femagas
This is the simplest place
I'd been
Througout my life
The roads pure clay
The mountains pure trees
Nothing bald
No patch of brown
The flowers here bloom
All year round
And fogs hang on
Mountain sides like
Guavas
The children knows nothing
But the laughter of the rivers
The playfulness of worms and birds
The freedom of the monkeys
The staple food is brown rice
The best viand is City Sardine
The one with the Boat trademark
The best desert is a chunk
Of brown sugar
When one gets sick here
There is no doctor
They just consult all their gods
In their sacred caves
And when they die
No one mourns
The other side of the River
Where the boatman takes them
Is their perfect resting place
The Silence golden
The Quiet diamond-like
So Perfect & So Secluded
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
Manali - the Land of Gods
I always wondered why this place,
was called the land of Gods.
With harsh cold and mountain folds,
With loneliness and uneven moulds,
Without comforts and anything mod,
I didnýt know why it was called the Gods.
When I got the opportunity,
I decided to see,
Whether what I had heard was truth or hearsay.
Although I find it difficult to climb,
I agreed to join this treacherous mime.
When I arrived at the camp site,
I was dumbstruck and beholden with the sight,
Which stood before my very eyes.
Snow covered mountains, gushing streams, and the beautiful sunrise. And as I saw the various moods,
Of nature and it's various goods,
I slowly started to understand,
Why it is called the Land of God,
Despite the lack of anything mod.
Because the grass here is green,
And not the brown with which the cities teem.
Because the water here is pure,
And does not require a testing gear.
Because the birds here are free,
And not caged-in, as we see.
This land which lacks anything mod,
Is called the Land of Gods.
Because the mountains here reach up to heaven,
And are not like the Sahyadris all paven.
Because the wind here spreads fragrance,
Not dust, smoke, and other jargon.
Because the flowers here naturally bloom,
And are not forced to grow in pots to face their doom.
That's why this land which lacks anything mod,
Is called the Land of Gods.
Because the lakes here are blue,
And do not stink with the city stew.
Because the people here are simple,
And do not show off false smiles and dimples.
Because everything here is pure and natural,
This land which lacks anything mod,
Is called the Land of Gods.
Because the sun sets over a spectacular horizon,
And does not have to hide behind concrete prisons.
Because the jungles here are full of trees,
Where all components of nature mingle free.
Because at night we can see the stars,
which are not blocked out by the city lights spread afar.
That's why this land which lacks anything mod,
Is called the Land of Gods.
Seeing the Jogini waterfall,
And the Lammergeyer rock tall,
Listening about the Bhrugu Lake,
And the pleasure the effort gives and takes,
I came to know why this land which lacks anything mod,
Is called the Land of Gods.
And as I go on thinking,
In the spare moments lurking,
Where silently beside the stream,
Or by the tent rim,
I realize the reason,
Why this land which lacks anything mod,
Is called the Land of Gods.
And now the time has come for me,
To go back to my own city.
I yearn for this paradise,
Away from the city life.
Because this nature and me,
Share a similar spree,
For life and all it's blooms,
Adjusting to its glooms,
Now I see, why this land which lacks anything mod,
Is called the Land of Gods.
poem by Dipti Date Gokhale
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Jackie Brown
Is this your life, jackie brown?
Poorly educated and forced to live on the poor side of town.
Is this your daughter, jackie brown?
This pretty little girl
In the worn out clothes
That have been hand-me down.
Is this your wife, jackie brown?
With sad blue eyes, walking on eggshells so you dont see her frown.
Is this your family, jackie brown?
Dream of vacationing on a mountain stream
And giving the world more than it gave you.
What ugly truths freedom brings
And it hasnt been very kind to you.
Is this your life, jackie brown?
Is this your meal, jackie brown?
Barely enough, Ive seen people throw away more than this out.
Is this your home, jackie brown?
This three room shack
With no running water
And the bathroom out back.
Is this your grave, jackie brown?
This little piece of limestone that says another desperate man took
Himself out.
Is this your dream, jackie brown?
Going nowhere and nowhere fast
We shame ourselves to watch people like this live.
But who gives a damn about jackie brown?
Just another lazy man who couldnt take what was his.
One helluva life jackie brown.
Forevermore, jackie brown
Amen and amen - jackie brown?
song performed by by John Mellencamp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pure And Untouched
there is the other side of the mountain
made of dessert sand
nothing interesting in there
no gems,
everything diamond-like
is just imagination
when a friend asks about this side
we tell all these lies
that at its foot is a comfortable cottage
that beside it is a river
there is a white horse,
birds often make a stop-over here
trees are fruiting
and flowers bloom all year long
to be fair
there is also something true and beautiful in that
other side
but no one knows it except you
and on that same side of the mountain
you still make lies
afraid that someone shall take it away from you
because you are weak
and cannot protect it
from the invasion of the masses
from the shallowness of their minds
their incapacity to understand that in there
everything is good and can be seen and felt
but not a bit shall be taken
it is the world where the spectator must view
the world with respect
because it is untouched because it remains
to be itself
untaken, untouchable,
pure, and hence can never be us.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Greed Of The River
brown to its existence the river as usual is silent
it borrows the sound of the slashing boat and from the time to time talks
it asks. 'where to boatman? '
but the boatman does not answer
he does not know how this river works how this river feels
it has taken people away
it has taken people back to their places
it has swallowed lives
and then in silence it sleeps
its belly full
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Agrarian Unrest....
my father is a landlord.
He sent me to a big university in the city.
I studied philosophy.
The university taught me about equality.
Compassion. We studied existentialism
The poverty of the masses.
The agrarian unrest.
The essence of man
The quality of life
Justifications of living
Explanations of death
After life.
I wrote a class report about a child who ate
only a handful of rice for breakfast
plus brown sugar as viand
and then a glass of water for his thirst
from the nearby river
and then he was left in the house
as his father works in the field
and his mother
sells vegetables in the market.
When i left the child, The
heavy silence of the world fell upon my shoulder.
One day father took me for a vacation in our land.
There are mountains. Lots of trees.
A beautiful place.
There is a house there
Dilapidated. A tenant lives there
There is a hungry child.
Drought. Long hot days.
I pity the poor condition. But i no longer ask for the cause.
Then the tenant asks me if i can give him land.
Or a part of father's land.
I have no answer.
I could have told him, I do not own anything,
I do not live here
and father is still alive...
And wants me to be firm and cruel.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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About Being Extrasensitive The Places Around You...
I SEE sparrows gathering
little pieces of leaves and
light husks
for the building of
their nests
it is time for laying eggs
this summer
when the winds are a little bit
colder
i see leaves falling
the trees getting bald
becoming like new fingers
under the sky
i see grass spreading
slowly turning brown
like muscovado sugar
i see mountains
where clouds hang like
smoke from pipes
of old men waiting
still on there
veranda
i see roads where old cars pass
leaving an eddy
of dusts
slowly settling down again
like a light brown mantle
of the breakfast
table
you should have seen me
how foolishly have i waited for you
in this old house
where we first met
many years ago
you should have felt how a poem like this
can be written
because waiting can be an agony
and without being extra sensitive to all that i see beyond all these longings
the horizon over there
the mountains and grass and roads running without ending
and eddies of dust of old cars that conk and honk
and winds that manipulate the helplessness of leaves
as cold as feelings of being
ruthlessly abandoned
without all these
life could have long surrendered
could have long ceased
like a calendar
on the last day of Christmas
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Paper Boat On A Murky River
on your hand is a paper boat
you made last night
on a rainy day like this
you put on a gray rain coat
the river rises
perfect for your scheme
you put the boat gently
on the brown water
white paper boat
carried by this murkiness
your hands push
the paper boat leaves
tonight you sleep on
the wooden floor
it is mahogany brown and you
become the paper boat
sailing inside your dream
the floor becomes the big river
your thoughts become the wind
your eyes become two moons
the room is as dark as the night
the dream is so alive like a mother's song.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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It Rained So Hard In The Mountains
it rained so hard in the mountains
and the water ran
together toward the blue sea
a conquest
between brown and blue
i am looking.
the sea is parted.
brown is about fourteen meters.
and blue is driven away.
the trees are bald.
a coconut falls.
we wait. we see how
brownish things murk
the bluish shade of this world.
i am this Filipino.
I am brown. I am what
is this murkiness all about.
we parted.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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This River
this river is a wide and long stretch
of brown dreams
it is silent its ripples are like moving threads
it has a song of its own
that only your heart can sing
we sail this river again
this ealy morning when the sun still hides itself
in the nipa palms
we sit side by side as the boat takes its time
we hold our hands
we are still lovers throught the years
we look forward to the same direction
it will not take that long
at the end we will see again the cascades
we will hear the flow of the mountain springs
we will again remember
the harmony of what we once were
do you hear that cascading song of the water?
that is the song of the river that in my heart i always treasure
together and forever
we will cascade, my love, like this long, brown river to the sea
of our daily affections
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Hazy Shade Of Winter
Time, time, time
See what's become of me...
Time, time, time
See what's become of me
While I looked around
For my possibilities
I was so hard to please
Look around
Leaves are brown
And the sky
Is a Hazy Shade of Winter
Hear the Salvation Army Band
Down by the riverside
It's bound to be a better ride
Than what you've got planned
Carry a cup in your hand
Look around
Leaves are brown
And the sky
Is a Hazy Shade of Winter
Hang onto your hopes my friend
That's an easy thing to say
But if your hopes should pass away
Simply pretend
That you can build them again
Look around
Grass is high
Fields are ripe
It's the springtime of my life
Seasons change with their scenery
Weaving time in a tapestry
Won't you stop and remember me
Look around
Leaves are brown
And the sky
Is a Hazy Shade of Winter
Look around
Leaves are brown
There's a patch of snow on the ground
Look around
Leaves are brown
There's a patch of snow on the ground
Look around
Leaves are brown
There's a patch of snow on the ground
song performed by by Bangles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cabantian....
i wonder if poverty is still worth writing
that little child once in cabantian in 1979
eating breakfast: a glass of water,
chunk of brown sugar, a cup of rice
that was all that i saw
and i wrote poem about poverty
and poured my heart out,
i went back to the same place last year
the shanties are gone
perhaps the child has become another
work force in the banana plantation
or perhaps he had gone somewhere to the big city
serving as bell boy at the hotel
or waiter in a pizza house
or perhaps before that happened
he could be one of those salvaged victims
in the crusade against domestic rebellion
one of the unsolved disappearances in Davao
cabantian is silent, as it was silenced before.
no one knows. Perhaps he died at 15
...i do not really know and i do not want to recall.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Take Me Home, Country Roads
(bill danoff/taffy nivert/john denver)
Country roads,take me home
To the place I belong
West virginia,mountain mama
Take me home,country roads
Almost heaven,west virginia
Blue ridge mountain,shenandoe river
Life is old there,older than the trees
Younger than the mountains
Growing like the breeze
Country roads,take me home
To the place I belong
West virginia,mountain mama
Take me home,country roads
All my memories gather round her
Mine is lady,stranger to blue water
Dark and dusty painted on the sky
Misty taste of moonshine
Teardrop in my eye
Country roads,take me home
To the place I belong
West virginia,mountain mama
Take me home,country roads
I hear her voice in the morning
Now she calls me
The radio reminds me of my home far away
And driving down the road I get a feeling
That I shouldve been home yesterday,yesterday
Country roads,take me home
To the place I belong
West virginia,mountain mama
Take me home,country roads
Country roads,take me home
To the place I belong
West virginia,mountain mama
Take me home,country roads
Take me home,country roads
song performed by by Olivia Newton-John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Complete Fool
'For clarification purposes...
Let me say this,
I am not an idiot.
Nor have I ever been an idiot!
I love brown rice.
I have always loved brown rice.
And those accusations to the contrary
Are hurtful allegations
To erode my many years of public service!
That I kept this to myself...
And away from those who trusted my decisions,
For more than fourty years...
I did so in the hopes that the gas I passed
Would go away!
It did so in past encounters!
When at the time,
I chose to wear my open toed sandals!
For that...
I regret.
I know now I should have worn my wingtips!
I repeat...
I am not an idiot.
I have never been an idiot.
I love brown rice.
I have always loved brown rice.
That I pleaded guilty...
I deeply regret!
And have since sought counseling
From a noted nutritionist,
To help me with my diet!
And decide how to best deal with this situation.
And again...
With the hopes that I am totally convincing...
I am not an idiot.
Nor have I ever been an idiot.
I love brown rice.
I have always loved brown rice.
I may be a complete fool...
But an idiot,
I am not! '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Brown Skin
Brown skin, you know I love your brown skin
I cant tell where yours begins, I cant tell where mine ends
Brown skin, up against my brown skin
Need some every now and thenoh hey
Where are your people from? maybe mississippi or an island
Apparently your skin has been kissed by the sun
You make me want a hersheys kiss, your licorice
Every time I see your lips, it makes me think of honey-coated chocolate
Your kisses are worth more than gold to me
Ill be your almond joy, youll be my sugar daddy
Brown skin, you know I love your brown skin
I cant tell where yours begins, I cant tell where mine ends
Brown skin, up against my brown skin
Need some every now and thenoh hey
Every time you come around, something magnetic pulls me and I cant get out
Disoriented, I cant tell my up from down
All I know is that I wanna lay you down
Every time I let you in, abracadabra magic happens as we swim
Higher and higher finally we reach heaven
Come back to earth and then we do it all again
Yeah..
Brown skin, you know I love your brown skin
I cant tell where yours begins, I cant tell where mine ends
Brown skin, up against my brown skin
Need some every now and thenoh hey
Skin so brown, lips so round
Baby how can I be down?
Beautiful mahogany, you make me feel like a queen
Tell me whats that thing you do that makes me wanna get next to you, yeah
Brown skin, you know I love your brown skin
I cant tell where yours begins, I cant tell where mine ends
Brown skin, up against my brown skin
Need some every now and thenoh hey
Brown skin, you know I love your brown skin
I cant tell where yours begins, I cant tell where mine ends
Brown skin, up against my brown skin
Need some every now and thenoh hey
song performed by by India Arie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Come, Come Stay With Us, This Is Our Paradise
on the other side is the coastal beauty
of sky blue clear seas and coconut palms
at the opposite of the other side one takes
the road leading to the green mountains
the forest trees are nest of birds and
the branches are playthings for monkeys
below the mountains are villages
sleepy and peaceful and cooler with
fresh air and flowery gardens
a vast expanse of rice and corn fields
rivers still teeming with fish
the people still opting for peace
this is our paradise. Come, stay with us.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Country Roads
Almost heaven, west virginia
Blue ridge mountains, shenandoah river
Life is old there, older than the trees
Younger than the mountains, blowing like a breeze
Country roads, take me home
To the place, I be-long
West virginia, mountain momma
Take me home, country roads
All my memries, gather round her
Miners lady, stranger to blue water
Dark and dusty, painted on the sky
Misty taste of moonshine, teardrop in my eye
Country roads, take me home
To the place, I be-long
West virginia, mountain momma
Take me home, country roads
I hear her voice, in the mornin hours she calls to me
The radio reminds me of my home far a-way
And drivin down the road I get a feeling
That I should have been home yesterday, yesterday
Country roads, take me home
To the place, I be-long
West virginia, mountain momma
Take me home, country roads
song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Brown Eyed Handsome Man
(Berry)
Well, flying across the desert in a TWA, I saw a woman walking in the sand.
She'd be walking thirty miles en route to Bombay to meet a brown eyed handsome man,
her destination was a brown eyed handsome man.
Way back in history three thousand years, in fact ever since the world began,
there's been a whole lotta good women shedding tears over a brown eyed handsome man,
a lot of trouble was a brown eyed handsome man.
Well, the Milo de Venus was a beautiful lass, she had the world in the palm of her hand
she lost both her arms in a wrestling match to win a brown eyed handsome man,
she fought and won herself a brown eyed handsome man.
Well, a beautiful daughter couldn't make up her mind between a doctor and a lawyer man.
Her mother told her daughter go out and find yourself a brown eyed handsome man,
just like your daddy was, a brown eyed handsome man.
Well, a two, three the count with nobody home he hit a high flyer into the stand.
A rounded third he was a-heading for home,
it was a brown eyed handsome man that won the game, It was a brown eyed handsome man.
It was a brown eyed handsome man.
song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Brown Eyed Handsome Man
BROWN EYED HANDSOME MAN
Arrested on charges of unemployment,
he was sitting in the witness stand
The judge's wife called up the district attorney
Said you free that brown eyed man
You want your job you better free that brown eyed man
Flying across the desert in a TWA,
I saw a woman walking across the sand
She been a-walkin' thirty miles en route to Bombay.
To get a brown eyed handsome man
Her destination was a brown eyed handsome man
Way back in history three thousand years
Back every since the world began
There's been a whole lot of good women shed a tear
For a brown eyed handsome man
That's what the trouble was brown eyed handsome man
Beautiful daughter couldn't make up her mind
Between a doctor and a lawyer man
Her mother told her daughter go out and find yourself
A brown eyed handsome man
That's what your daddy is a brown eyed handsome man
Milo Venus was a beautiful lass
She had the world in the palm of her hand
But she lost both her arms in a wrestling match
To get brown eyed handsome man
She fought and won herself a brown eyed handsome man
Two, three count with nobody on
He hit a high fly into the stand
Rounding third he was headed for home
It was a brown eyed handsome man
That won the game; it was a brown eyed handsome man
song performed by by Nina Simone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hot Toddy
Warm
Brown
Sugar
Vanilla
Silky smooth
Makes me relax and forget about my day
As she infects me
Everything inside me begins to sing
Steam rises
And in its wafting presence
Is her scent
Her sweetness is not overpowering
Because it's all real
I place her at my lips and take a drink
Instant comfort
Makes me feel like I'm covered in a perfect
Warm
Soft
Cozy
Feels like I'm home
A place I felt safe
Blanket
She's the perfect mix of sweet with a kick
The color of brown amber liquid
Soothing, as I taste her on my tongue
Instantly, I want another drink of her
She travels through and through me
Leaving warmth in her wake
A low flame in my veins
A dying fire on a winter's night..
Giving me just enough heat to want to stay close
I take another sip..
She leaves a smile on my face
And, when I'm done
I finish with a knowing
That soon,
I'll want her again
poem by Rabia Minhas
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Blue, Brown and Gold
Blue, brown and gold, bold, I'll unfold
a portrait drawn upon a train
one summer morn which shall remain
for heart to hold if truth be told.
Brown, gold and blue she sat, smiled too,
to me it seemed true beauty gleamed, -
my spirit teemed with hopes that, teamed,
we'd share love through fair seasons new.
Blue, gold and brown without a frown
she journeyed on, too soon was gone, -
yet still upon my soul she shone.
Brown bag, blue gown, - Life's golden crown!
Blue, brown and gold, cannot grow [c]old
Year in year out their tale is told...
poem by Jonathan Robin
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