Intimacy....
it is more
in the mind, and so the brain
makes a room
for us
two,
we shut up the mouth of
the universe
we fall short of the words
which we have mastered
it is the moan
of loneliness meeting another
moaning of
emptiness
glasses are made full and then
we empty them
and then we fill them all again
with what
we cannot really fully
comprehend
we have thrown away everything
shed off clothes, skin,
thoughts
wind to wind and rain to rain
and then in the silence of the room
after
sunlight slowly creeps in
from the
shutters of our
windows...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
When That I Was & A Little Tiny Boy
When that I was and a little tiny boy
With a hey-ho
The wind and the rain
A foolish thing was but a toy
For the rain it raineth
Every day
But when I came to mans estate
With a hey-ho
The wind and the rain
gainst knaves and thieves men shut their gate
For the rain it raineth
Every day
But when I came alas to wife
With a hey-ho
The wind and the rain
By swaggering I could never fright
For the rain it raineth
Every day
But when I came unto my bed
With a hey-ho
The wind and the rain
With tosspots still a drunken head
For the rain it raineth
Every day
A great while ago the world began
With a hey-ho
The wind and the rain
But thats all one our play is done
And well strive to please you
Every day
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Loneliness As A Concoction...
to escape
asphyxiation
i open
a lot of windows
and wear
my self-made
wings
i do not land
i skip skies
drift on clouds
nine to ten
i try burning my
skin with the
sun's terms of
endearment
it will be a whole
day affair
i speak to no one
and no one speaks to me
so many
so many words trickle like rain
in my hair
thoughts wet me all over
like flood on the grasslands
when the day is over
i go back to my room and
lay my self on the floors
wings hang on the ceiling
i repeat this all day
and i am not destroyed
the separation makes me live
loneliness is my bread
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Under The Fig Tree
My shelter full of warmth,
Where I'm fully protected,
A place I can call home,
The silence makes it even peaceful,
It's my little La La Land,
I can speak my mind,
I can feel my freedom once again,
The fresh wind brushes pass my skin softly,
Not a dropp of rain can fall on me,
I am fully protected under that tree,
It's more than a tree,
It's a place where my imaginary turns to reality,
Where I explore my dreams,
A place full of wonders,
A place where miracles take place,
A tree that bears fruits,
Under the fig tree.
poem by Marlene Rashidi
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Empty Room
Empty room, empty room
How am I gonna fill U?
How am I gonna fill this empty room?
Lonely hearts, worlds apart
Why must they be broken?
How am I gonna ever fill this empty room?
And what is wrong when love is strong?
Why can't it last 4ever?
How could U go and leave me all alone?
Tears fall on barren walls
But what's the use in cryin'?
I gotta find a way 2 fill this empty room
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Shut My Window
windows keep shut
lest sky enters the room
if sky enters wind sunbeam rain sea-roar
the green of tall trees, the distance far away the horizon
will meet my individual world
will quake my tranquility in confinement
the disorder begins
when small wants to meet big wide
expanded nature never knows its limit
my individual world just small
four walls its limit
roof overhead and a man sleeps quiet
to slip from the enlarged
not to loose its enchained passion
not to live spreading wings
windows keep shut to show
no world behind it could exist..
thoughts are dark to dark the expansion
thoughts are dark to condemn nature
if sky enters
if light
if wind
if rain
if sea-roar
if horizon glitters away
with distant distance
individual nowhere
everywhere the wave of life
sometimes burn, sometimes snowy
and sometimes makes me burst to meet the end
from where beginning begins again...
poem by Pranab K. Chakraborty
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Remembering A Summer Fling
we were short of pillows
and blankets
and it was raining hard
and so cold
inside an empty room
in fact
antiquated, abandoned
and dilapidated
windows
where we hear the
thunder and see
the lightning
cast two shadows
fusing as one
in fast motion
two short lived
and swift
but i can still
prettily remember
the sweet scent
of our sweat
the moaning sounds
drowned by the
heavy rain
and the silence
of bliss
which reigned
after
we left early
morning
since then
there is no
word for
each of us
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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When The Rain Stopped Falling
there is this heavy rain
falling on top of your roof and it is so disturbing
that you wake up
and lock your windows
to shut yourself away from the sounds
of falling
but you cannot help worrying even when you cannot
literally hear the sound of the falling rain
you still imagine how they fall inside your mind
as though you can hear every syllable that every neddle of rain
is pricking in your brain
your ears
and your eyes still have the image of these
series of fallings
that even if the rain finally stopped
and you open your window to check
in the middle of this time
when morning cracks fromt the shutters of your windows
you still think like crazy
you hear the sound of the wind and it is like the sound of the falling
rain
and even if the wind has left like a leaf flown to the eastern side
of your house
even if there is no shadow of the leaf anymore
you hear your heart falling from your chest
now you must accept
leaving.
now you must accept the pain.
do not deny it.
it is you that is falling out
from the grace of her love.
it is you.
cry it out!
shout it!
it is you.!
it is you!
it is not the rain, it is not the wind, it is not the leaf that was blown away
towards the eastern part of the house.it is not the design of the house.
it is not the purple curtains. it is not the lonely courtyard
it is not the red bowl. it is not the tower.
it is not the blank sheets of paper.
it is not the bell.
it is not the winding stairs.
it is not the dirty garage.
it is not the scaffold.
it is not the white paint.
it is not the doorbell.
it is not the turbulence of the plane.
it is not the slap of the hand.
it is not the blue fan.
it is not the cellophance floating in the air and whirling in that corner
a dead-end.
it is you! and that is the truth!
be calm now. wipe the tears.
try sleep and dream.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Wanting To Say Nothing At All
a time for silence
the mind is full
like a heap of leaves
unswept for days
by the lazy wind
a day of silence
inside the room
a door shut
curtains and windows
stare
giving little mercies
to a restless soul
inside a
sleepy body.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Sadness of The Empty Home
The light flickers on
Illuminates the empty hallway
The thud, click of a door in closing
Brings a silence to the room
A heavy sigh escapes
A look to the mirror sees only
Tired eyes looking back
A bag lain upon the small table
The light turned back off
On route to yet another room
Light creeps through the window
Allowing enough to see
The sound of a running tap
Filling the kettle for a final drink
Keys thrown upon a side
The clatter of cups and spoons
Then further silence
Now the creaking of a staircase
Another door opened
Another light flicked on
The curtains drawn to the world
Drink set beside the bed
The silence of the empty home
Fills the heart with loneliness
A television switched into life
Nothing worth watching
Just a sound there to fill
The silence and the sadness
Of the empty home
poem by Matthew Holloway
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The Winter Talks to the Spring
Listen
to the rain.
It talks
to the wind.
Through
the open window
the magic of the night
descends
on the room.
Listen
to the wind.
It talks
to the rain.
Your hands
are
so warm
your lips
are
so tender.
Listen
to the rain
the winter talks
to the spring.
Slowly
now the wind
and the rain
erase
our footsteps.
Enchanted
vapors embrace
our love
in
the oozing thickness
of the night.
poem by Paul Hartal
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For A Friend Who Is Also Struggling Out There
it is still 3 o'clock in the afternoon. iT is raining heavily
outside as we still keep busy with our own business
inside this courtroom.
two lawyers arguing on a point. I am listening.
the accused sits there, his life is at stake.
the mother is tense. two mothers.
THE mother of the complainant
who cries that her daughter is a victim
of rape.The mother of the accused who rebuts
that his son is just framed-up by the real
culprits who are still-at-large.
the glass windows of the court
muted the sound of the heavy rain.
but the way the trees are swaying to and fro
like a pendulum of a grandfather's clock
very well tells that there is a bad weather
outside this courtroom.
a river of faces faces me. i look at the eyes
of the room, the windows cased in glass
as the rain is maimed wanting to get in
as though trying to say that it has also
something to say about the matters
discussed inside this closed room.
the world is always asking, what is the truth?
it reminds us, there is only one truth and the
rest are lies. I keep on trying to learn from it.
the argument has always been:
everyone is a victim, and no one wins this game
of a legal play. sometimes the guilty is set free
and the innocent is put to prison.
there will be cries of the wind. In a closed court
like this, one cannot really hear the sound of its cries.
I am trying to figure out. Each word. The words of the
wind and the muted sounds of the rain.
THE hammer shall fall and it shall fall heavily.
Can this poem help me? Are emotions aids?
Many mouths shall shape the words. Each lip makes
a reading of itself. There will be whispers and murmurs.
There will be calls and cries and hounding sounds.
I sleep at night soundly. My conscience shall be my pillow.
There will be dreams handed to me by the gods.
As i write this, think also of my own journey, my own sorrows.
In the battles outside and inside us, a closed room vis-a-vis
the outside cries of the wind and the rain, i want to simply tell you, , ,
keep moving on. We move on too, with our own busy lives.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sonnet: The Wind
What shakes the trees so violently? ’Tis Wind;
What moves the clouds hither/ thither? ’Tis Wind;
What takes the tornado around? ’Tis Wind;
What brings the sandstorm on the earth? ’Tis Wind.
What makes the cool and gentle breeze? ’Tis Wind
What makes the boughs and leaves to dance? ’Tis Wind;
What makes the autumn leaves to fall? ’Tis Wind;
What makes the honey-bees to fly? ’Tis Wind.
What makes pollen reach in showers? ’Tis Wind;
What makes the dust to climb towers? ’Tis Wind;
What spreads the perfume of flowers? ’Tis Wind;
What makes the rain-clouds advance far? ’Tis Wind.
What makes the Wind to blow? ’Tis God;
What makes a Tempest stop? ’ Tis our Lord.
7-18-2001
poem by John Celes
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Listen To The Wind and The Rain...
Listen to The Wind and The Rain
Playing Symphonies Again
With Muted-Base of Thunder
Raise The Window; Watch and Wonder
Listen to The Wind and The Rain
Crescendo – Clean and Rise – Refrain
A Rush of Lightning Rhapsody
Love-Struck A Chord… Deep in Me…
(Listen to The Wind and The Rain…)
Open Up The Door!
I Want to Feel the Choir’s Full – Score
Wind and Rain – By Maestro’s Hand
Make Melody to Woman and Man
(Listen to The Wind and The Rain…)
Listen to The Wind and The Rain
In This Lullaby, We have Lain
In Such Peaceful Harmony
Singing in Love’s Key…
Listening to The Wind and The Rain…
poem by MoonBee Canady
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Loneliness
We all feel loneliness in different ways
we could be in a crowded room
with a lot of people chatting there.
On a crowded bus journey
with voices speaking all around,
loneliness can strike anywhere. T
he feeling of being isolated
in whatever that you do.
Your hearts feels so empty,
the world is full of rain
and you wonder if you will ever be happy again.
You feel trapped in a little world of your own.
Isolation gnaws at you for all around
there is no one to talk to
and loneliness creeps into every fibre of your soul.
You want to break free of the chains,
stand up and set yourself free,
but your self-esteem stands in the way.
So you shrink down in your incarceration
and in there you stay
when loneliness takes a grip of you.
10 November 2008
poem by David Harris
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The day comes when you become the center of the universe
You sit in the middle of your house
The chairs and table and the trunks
Have become the planets that
Revolve around you.
You close your eyes and keep
Your arms beneath you.
You become the sun and the
Slits of lights coming from the
Leak of your roof and the windows
And shutters and blinds
Become your stars.
The silver basin on the sink
Has become your moon.
You clench your fists.
Your room has become
The empty space of your
Self-made universe.
The world is silent in its
Wholeness. You float and you
Travel alone along the edges
Of emptiness.
The morning comes and the
Dog opens your door
Licking your feet and face
And wagging its tail to
Catch your attention.
It sees you: bald, untrimmed
Beard, stinking skin, loose skin
In the arms and neck, broken teeth,
Bloated guts, crooked backbone.
It is the dog that loves you
You are its truth.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I'm Writing to the Wind
I'm writing to the wind
The words drift from my mouth
They dance and mix about
Then lose what they're about
I'm writing to the wind
To say I stand alone
To let the people know
I came and then went home
I'm writing to the wind
Because no one seems to know
We're nearly almost at the door
Where no one want to go
And if the wind says no
I think I'll understand
The wind just comes and goes
And seldom makes a stand
The wind can pass me buy
Or stay awhile to linger
The wind can never die
Or rise to point it's finger
The wind goes on and on
Around the world forever
Unless it comes to find
It's a sad and poor endeavor
For after we are gone
The wind will just be flying
'Ore empty barren plain
We made as we lay dieing
poem by S. Michael Downs
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Who Let In The Rain
Things like this
can always take a little time
I always thought
we'd be together down the line
we start to fight
and can't get over what was said
'cause you see black and white
and I see red
And I wonder who let in the rain
you know without you
I'm not the same
when love gets strong
people get weak
sometimes they lose control
and wind up in too deep
they fall like rain
who let in the rain
I make the bed and cover
where you used to sleep
I'm smoothing over promises
made in these sheets
I envy lovers passing by
out on the street
'cause what they have
I couldn't keep
And I wonder who let in the rain
you know without you
I'm not the same
when love gets strong
people get weak
sometimes they lose control
and wind up in too deep
they fall like rain
who let in the rain.
song performed by by Cyndi Lauper from Hat Full Of Stars
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Storm
Storms out on the water
I watch it getting closer
Are you coming home
All these years we've wondered
Trying to break the cycle
All these years of hope
And my heart feels the strain
But it makes me feel like I'm alive again
Sometimes in our lives
We need the pain
So I find some candles
Put out all the anchors
Pull the shutters down
Makes me think about us
All the things that got lost
Still we're holding on
And the storm rushes in
But it makes me feel like I'm alive again
Sometimes in our lives
We need the pain
The wind, the rain, the storm will wash us clean again
The wind, the rain, the storm will shake us up again
The wind, the rain, the storm will make us think again
The wind
And maybe we can start again
Storms out on the water
See and sky become one
Are you coming home
song performed by by Heather Nova
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In Here
in here we come
without promises
of stars
we are free to go
leaving is not difficult
it is all in our minds
this dizziness about
our existence as poets
the last bulwark of
erotic thoughts
this is the place of
certain confidences
we write what we think
not what we are
we empathize we get into
the shoes of another we weep
as though we do not own any
tear we keep the silence sometimes
as though we own space
we move as though we are
the river we fall as though
we are the rain
this is this place
welcome back to this world
of words
bring in the emptiness
think that soon you shall be full
and then empty yourself again
feel the essences
of all these nothingness
i have come with empty hands
and i shall leave
without my face.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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After This Meeting
after this meeting
you must forget that we have met
whatever was said
or felt
simply disregard everything
like you have taken a bath with me
shed off each drop
to the river
let each moment pass
and float and then go back
to where they must belong
some things
some moments are better
forgotten
i do not want to remember
sweetness or pain
i do not want to feel
what was once there
let them go
for nothing belongs to me
time, words, thoughts
they all pass through me
i never own them
after this short meeting
when you think you fill me
(like a glass of water
or a cup of coffee
when you think you have
quenched my thirst
when you think that for
a time
i shall not hunger)
let me be
an empty space again
let me be another drop
of silence
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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