In The River
when the wind finally
drains the water
from the pond when the sun
dries all that is left
of the drops
the fish shall die and
the moss shall wilt and
the crabs and earthworms
shall perish
except the mud and stones
their silence shouts for joy
now is their turn to know
heat and warmth
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Neglected Pond
i may have neglected this pond
some fish are no longer swimming
eventually die in the water
their same burial place
some moss float and the lotus
has not borne any flower since
that day of mourning
someone as i leave may take
notice of this pond
and have pity and pour
everything there
to revive it or
take more perhaps for the
replacement
a new koi or
a gold fish
white pebbles and
a janitor fish
it does not matter for i still grieve
and grieving does not know what hope is
what a new house means
the trails to San Antonio
what are they? but same vomiting mud
and i won't take it
for an answer
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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My Venus
cell
moss
fish arising from a
broken shell
less the whiskers
of the cat
a she-goat
rising from the foams
a woman
water body
daisies on your hair
naked
dried by the wind
floating in the sea
the waves take you
to me
i am a lesser god
that you love
i wait
for the making
we shall lie on the sand
to the grass
we are sunflowers
in the sun
and then we wilt
back to earth
in utter silence
of two empty
shells
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Some Tears
Water that sprays my eyes,
whose drops awake my sighs.
I close and the tears get off my eyes.
The tears were the water in the pond
that I smashed from a thin frond.
The sparkles wake up from the gravity
and show the dance of nature
like roaming in rainbow city
The white water finally splits
And again get into my eyes
and now the tears of elated highs.
Then later, sits with me a little girl,
sees the fishes of the pond that swirls
I saw, she smashes, the drops jump
I smile and the water rumps
to my eyes and stick towards the untouched (from water) girl
whose tears do not hurl
poem by Ravin Sharma
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The Fish Year
Marico brought back a tank with salt water from Brazil,
Wnetta bought small stones and water plants from pet store,
The red fish and black fish were got from
Hua’s backyard pond,
After Chris checking the filter
and water temperature,
everything is set,
and the fish is ready to grow and bred.
Gundi feeds the fish everyday,
and watches them day and night.
The red fish swim up and down,
The black fish swim down and up,
The green water plants swing their long leaves
upside down.
We can hear the talk from the tank:
One lady, two ladies, three ladies…
One man, two men, three men…
American, German, Chinese, Brazilian,
Indian, Russian…
The fish is counting! ! !
Counting the people in the lab!
Maybe they learned the counting from Gundi,
Gundi is a great mathematician,
She always counts when she watches them:
One fish, two fish, three fish…
Red fish, black fish, red-black fish…
That’s our first fish year,
we expect to have the second, the third,
and then for ever.
poem by Dongming Zhou
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The Fishes' Message, Poet: Sohrab Sepehri
I went to the pond
Hoping to see the reflection of my loneliness in the water
There was no water in the pond.
The fishes were saying:
'"It is not the trees' fault at all.
It was a sultry summer noon,
The bright son of water, sat by the pond's edge
And the eagle of the sun dived down and lifted him up & up in the air.
To hell with our not reaching any oxygen from water.
And the glitter has left our scales all together.
Instead, that big light,
The reflection of that red carnation in the water
Whose heart, if the wind was blowing, would beat behind the layers of neglect,
was our eyes.
It was a window to the confession of paradise.
If you see God in the palpitations of the garden,
Make an effort and tell him that the fishes'' pond is dry.'"
The wind was going to visit the plane tree,
I was going to visit God.
poem by Mehraneh Hosseini
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31
A fish that drinks like a fish, that is a fish in excess
A fish that fishes in troubled waters, that is a fish taking advantage of another fish in trouble
A fish that fishes or cuts bait, well, to be or not to be, to retreat or to attack, that is the fishy question
A fish that is neither fish nor fowl, is a fish that is neither one nor the other, lacking some convictions
A fish out of water, is a fish feeling left out, no longer in his accustomed environment
Do you have other fish to fry for now?
Is there other matter requiring my attention?
Poor fish,
the lake is finally fished out from his fishy mind.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Some things that can happen with a fish
A fish that drinks like a fish, that is a fish in excess
A fish that fishes in troubled waters, that is a fish taking advantage of another fish in trouble
A fish that fishes or cuts bait, well, to be or not to be, to retreat or to attack, that is the fishy question
A fish that is neither fish nor fowl, is a fish that is neither one nor the other, lacking some convictions
A fish out of water, is a fish feeling left out, no longer in his accustomed environment
Do you have other fish to fry for now?
Is there other matter requiring my attention?
Poor fish,
the lake is finally fished out from his fishy mind.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Somthing to Live For
A fiery orb
Sinks into the ocean
Red liquid spreads
And drains into the shore
Sunrise and Sunset
Always on time
Something to trust
Something to believe
The bald face of the moon
The smile from a pure heart
Life is nothing without it
We are nothing without it
The streaming water
The open petals
The stinging chill
The thawing warmth
The angry storm
The frozen pond
All filled with honesty
Because that’s all they have
We put trust in it
A dropp of water
The rush of the wind
We put trust in honesty
Believe in life
Believe in love
Believe in care
Then you have something to live for
poem by Megan Reily
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Water so Deep and Profound
Water so sinuous and devious,
And as mystifying as you.
Water is always hiding its true self,
Never in one form.
Water can be the shimmer,
Reflecting off the light of the pond,
Making the pond seem magnificent.
Water can be the rushing sound,
As it escapes the secretive pond,
And runes down into the vast ocean,
Seeking adventure and unfound dreams.
Water can be the feeling of calmness,
As it sits there, overlooking the pond,
With wonder and seeing how it made it what it is.
Water so supple and wondrous,
The pond is born from the water.
Water so deep and profound,
Just like you,
The pond so incomplete without water,
Just like your family.
poem by Music Galore
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It was my thirteenth year
It was my thirteenth year
and we fished with our friend
from Rhodesia
and he taught us
to make our own sinkers
from lead.
Three boys casting
lines into a dam
and watching the policeman
and when it stirs
or give a small pull
whipping the rod.
At times we used floats
and watched if the red and white
still drift on the water
and it was peaceful
at the dam
with the smooth water
stretching out in front of us.
Crabs crept skew
along the shore
and at times we sailed
a old leaking row boat
and use a big tin
to empty it.
The fishes easily took earthworms
honey or curry dough
and we caught strings
of bream, caper, yellow fish
and catfish.
It’s a great thing
to fry fish on the coals
and there’s something in the smell
that makes you hungry
and we watched the stars
that hanging bright and big in the sky
while we kept on catching
deep into the night.
poem by Gert Strydom
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When I Go Fishing
when i go fishing
i am always reminded
of the fish in the pond
and the hook, line
and sinker
the bait is this worm
this shrimp
and objective is always
the fish
in there
one drinks so much silence
by the pond
i see the ripples
i see the shadows of fins
i drink so much silence
i fathom so much depth
i might have missed the elusive fish
losing my worm and my shrimp
what i bring home is this inner peace
and so i never mind the shadows of the fins
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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To Gather Moss And More Of Moss
to gather moss
be a stone
to gather more moss
be a very still stone
be a stone still till the end
of time
you stand still and think
you want to be the moss
rather than a stone
to be all moss
you must betray the stillness
of stone
you must even forget
the importance of
what a moss can be
then you think some more
to be completely this moss
you need to be friendly
to the water and to the river
then you decide to be the water
instead of the moss
to be more than the water
you wish instead to become the river
and so you flow and learn the rush
and become the running river
until what you want really
is just to flow
to rush and run and then
you become nothing
but the motion itself
until you are lost
and then
you become what you are now
lost but real
always flowing, rushing, running
where nobody owns you
not even the river
or the stones or the moss
you have become
this running, this flowing, this being
so real so free
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Fishing house
Memories are grumbling.
The kettles are rumbling.
Fishing house, where the boats float innocent waves.
Glow reflected by the water,
Sandy seabed, my eyes remind.
Of the grey mullet fish, and furry cat fish.
Crabs hide and seek, stones and reefs,
So pure currents within the water stream.
Under the bridge, the seaweed adorns
the rumours of waves slamming pillars.
A boat passing near,
sail the nets and hunt the eels.
Ropes become tangled,
where dry seahorses running no more.
The recall of the water, reflect the nets that I drown,
to catch the girl I loved.
poem by Luca Menin
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Sorrow And Silence Walking Hand In Hand
it is the sorrow that is always cold
cold as the moist ground
where the earthworms live
it has hands less the warmth of the
callousness
and it is the silence with a veil
nothing to speak about
that keeps on holding my heart
it has no hands anymore
but it has strong wings
and sharp beak
there is a land somewhere
where the eggs must be put to finally
make out
a sense of home
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Millions of water drops
drops of water
millions of drops
Falling down the rocks
Millions of water drops
Glittering in the sun
Shining like pearls
Millions of water drops
Ending as a river
Finding way to ocean
Millions of water drops
Creating childrens happiness
Laughter and joyfullness
Millions of water drops
Soon will tide reach
White long shores
Millions of water drops
Animating Waves
into forming caves
Millions of water drops
splittering from above
till reaching top of the hill
Millions of water drops
Without them no sound
No whispers of the living
Millions of water drops
Watch the clearness
From crest to earth
Millions of water drops
For tribe’s best
Beware of waste
Millions of water drops
Treasured should they be
As belonging to all humanity
(march 2008, Switzerland)
poem by Morhardt Carmen Mencita Monoi Angel
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I Could Have Told You
THAT YELLOW
SOLO LEAF floating on a very clear pond,
was it last summer?
will it really matter when someone is finally gone?
will the wind remember?
will the deep water of the pond be always true to its clarity and peace?
that yellow leaf that sank on the very clear pond on one peaceful day
will someone still remember?
i think, i will,
if i, too, shall live
longer than
you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Ocean Poem
I am merely a fish swimming in a pond of darkness.
The trees are anemones standing alone.
Yet still i ride on not giving up
Not stopping at all til we reach the home.
We are all just fish swimming around
We do not take in anything other than the water we breathe
We care about nothing
Its only ourselves we see
that’s why I swim alone in this pond
I don’t want to be like those others
The ones who are all the same
Ill be fine just remember my name
poem by Courtney Tak
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Viewing Cac-Co Cavern
Heaven and earth brought forth this rocky mass
its face cut by a deep crevasse
crack's dark mouth shagged with moss
pines rocking in wind rush.
Here sweet water spatters down
and the path into the cleft is dark.
Praise whoever sculpted stone
then left it bare for all to see.
Here is another translation of the same poem:
Yin and Yang created this chunk of rock;
A deep and dark crack split it into two blocks.
Moss covered openings expose themselves with impudence
Wind enhanced firs produce sound of rhythmic cadence.
Drops of romantic water fall with splash
Roads to nowhere lead in dark labyrinth.
Praise to the scuptor inventing this distortion
Indecent exposure invites lots of observation.
poem by Ho Xuan Huong
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Where we live in is not seen.
Fish do not see the water.
Earthworms do not see the earth.
Germs do not see the air.
Man too does not see the All Pervasive.
28.09.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The Canal
when I go to school,
I have to walk by side of a canal
I would be curios to see fish and crabs
But when I look into water these days
I saw garbage thrown in the water.
There are no creatures living in water
The garbage blocks the flow of water
The water is thoroughly polluted.
Like this everywhere its happening
We all are responsible for it.
poem by Shaleeka V.p
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