It Is Natural.....
when you say that you love me
i do not really believe you
your hands wrap my neck like
some kind of steel chains
and then you plant a kiss on my hair
there is nothing there that grows
it is like a stone that you hit a bird with
and the bird falls from the branch of a tree
dead on the ground
and then you dismiss it as something
natural, birds die
stone hits.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Heart Of Stone
A broken wing, and a broken bone
Of a bird, that met a stone
Lied helpless And was bit despair
Looked above If god was there.
Short of food And short of breath
Was silently waiting For his death
Asked his wings If they could fly.
Yes they said why don't you try
He gathered his strength and wiped his tears.
And soon he stood Without his fears
His eyes stared at the Dark blue sky
But just then when he was about to fly
they grabbed his neck they grabbed it hard
with all his strength he could move a yard
and yes those hands did hurt his bone
he had met a heart of stone
some ugly hands and a beautiful bird.
He cried for help But no one heard.
His wings were flawed And his muscles were stiff.
He begged them to throw him off a cliff
oh dumb bird, don't you get,
look at you, it's a stone you met.
To this, the half dead bird replied
So what, if I die
Just for once I ll meet the air.
And also see if god was there.
Stories of wisdom, that were once told
But now this world had been so cold.
He wished if those blind eyes could see.
The bird was dead though his soul was free.
poem by Kanav Justa
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Man - A Macrocosm Of Nature's Intelligence
this hair
on its own
is no life
this stone
solitary
on the floor
is no life
the air on
the wind
is no life
let it steal
into the man
and the plant
a whole world
starts to churn
and soil with
the stone too
start becoming life
into the plant
into the man
the sun on
its own is no life
take him out
everything
stops to glow
the tree, man and
sun, stone....
this hair
on its own
is dead
throw in the man
throw in the plant
and the air
and the sun
and the stone
everything
starts
to grow
nature seeps,
breathes
through each
and everything
jigsaw puzzle
the man himself
a macrocosm
of its intelligence
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Blind Love
Words and music by tom waits
Now youre gone
And its hotels and whiskey and sad luck days
And I dont care if they miss me
I never remember their names
They say if you get far enough away
Youll be on your way back home
Well Im at the station
And I cant get on the train
Must be blind love
The only kind of love is stone blind love
The only kind of love is stone blind love
The only kind of love is stone blind love
Oh blind love
Blind love
Stone blind love
Stone blind love
Well the streets turning blue
The dogs are barking and the night has come
And its tears that are falling
From these brown eyes now
And I wonder where you are
And I whisper your name
(I whisper your name)
And the only way to find you
Is if I close my eyes
And find you with my blind love
The only kind of love is stone blind love
The only kind of love is stone blind love
The only kind of love is stone blind love
Oh blind love
Blind love
Stone blind love
Stone blind love
Oh its blind love
The only kind of love is stone blind love
The only kind of love is stone blind love
The only kind of love is stone blind love
Oh blind love
Blind love
Stone blind love
song performed by by Bob Seger
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I want to fly!
yes, you do.
where do you want to go?
i am looking for a new home
how does one grow wings?
i want to fly...
it is the most quiet conversation.
the man begs to understand
why the mouth he is blest with does not take the shape of a beak.
the bird sings of many lands
the man has not yet been to
the little brown bird's heart is a ray of sun
but the man does not know
inside the wars are all in the making
outside it is still calm
the bird and the man kiss
the bird flies
the man falls asleep
the man flies
the bird is dead.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Poem Of Syntax
A poet and his bird, his dog, his cat and his tree
A poet and the bird in the tree
A poet and his dog in the tree
A poet and his dog in the tree and the wind and the cloud
The bird in the tree, the dog in the tree, the cat in the tree,
The bird in the tree, the dog on the tree, the cat under the tree,
The bird on the tree, the bird in a tree, a bird in a tree, a bird in the tree,
And the wind and the cloud and the poet and his dog and his cat and the tree
The dog chases the cat the cat chases the bird
And they all arrive in that tree
Where the poet is sitting under that tree
The poet takes the dog and the cat was envious
And the bird looks at them in silence
The silence looks at the poet in the eye
Of the cat and the bird flies away
The poet and the dog is the poem of friendship
The cat and the dog is the poem of the endless natural quarrels
And the bird that flies away against the cat and the dog and the poet and the tree
And flies against the wind that the bird is now fighting
And the clouds that seem so blue and blue
The bird that actually flies away
Is actually me
I was not the poet with the dog
I am not the tree I am not the wind I am not the cloud I am not the poet there who had a dog as friend and I was not the quarrelsome thing from the blue and out of the blue
I am the bird with wings and I always fly away to places
Against the wind to places where I can be as always be the bird with wings in silence
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Mocking Bird On The Tree Fronting The House...
a mocking bird
sits on a branch of a tree
that fronts the house that
papa made
papa is gone.
a mocking bird left but one
sunny day
after the heavy rains for months
the mocking bird comes back
it is bringing silence
unlike all the other mocking birds
in town
the mocking bird is dead
a boy abandoned by his mother
stoned it
now the window if you walk a little
distant from the house
and sit on a bench across the road
looks like a Cheshire cat
giving Alice that fable smile.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Bird-Magic
Where no birds breathe, bird-magic breathes
Bird-beauty, bird-spirit, bird-splendour,
And brings where no bird wings,
Wing-beats that woo me to wonder.
What do I want when a woman can warm
Bird-magic from her bosom, her womanly arms?
Her lips that are petals, her thighs that are trees,
Boughful with blossoms of softness and ease?
What is the liquid that lingers with love
In her voice? Is the music that hangs in her eyes?
The dewdrop.that dangles from finger-tip touch?
The mellifluous magic that moves me so much?
This is no bird-magic:
This is woman, who with a sweep of her hair
Sends birds bursting to wings in the air.
This is woman, whose frown
Droops dark feathers down.
This is woman; her smile, her kiss, her holding in arms,
Hold more bliss for me than bird-charms.
poem by Tan Pratonix
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Two Sides, One Coin
White bird of peace,
won't you please come save me,
since I'm swallowed by grief and I need sweet release.
Black bird of death,
won't you wrap 'round my neck,
as the ace, king, and queen fall away from the deck.
The caged bird sings,
but the lone bird dies;
Set it free, let it be, let it open your eyes.
poem by William Blake Beckett
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The Stone
there is something about the stone
that i have been complaining
for not being able to understand
its choice to be silent
and hard
and numb and uncommitted
when it is thrown in the river
it makes no sound of protest
when it is ground
it does not scream
when the rain comes it seems
to be contented with being wet
just the same when the sun shines
and heats it
it makes no bother
until some naughty boy takes a stone
and hits my head
and when i begin to bleed
seeing the very stone used
staring at me without guilt
for any responsibility at all
on the ground
that i begin to understand all these things
what a stone is, how come that a stone shall always be
a stone
no matter what.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Unwilling Witness
i have seen a black bird
high on the leafless tree
and i hear a shot
once twice thrice
and i see the face of the
boy and he runs away
he takes away the black bird
that falls dead on the
pebbled ground
and i follow him
erasing every trace
of his footstep
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Caution From The Man Who Taught Evolution
he says that any creature which does not use a part of its body
soon will lose it.It is the use that makes it exist.
Thus, when a fish gets off the water because it likes to fly,
it becomes a bird in due time,
Thus, when that bird peroccupies itself with swimming
ultimately becomes the sting-ray.
Thus the moss on the stone which wants to roll
with the stone becomes the worms of earth.
Time makes them what they want to become.
Thus the jellyfish that crawls to the ground becomes
another blob. And so on and so forth.
It also happens to us humans.
When we start to be complacent and not use our minds to think,
we become brainless.We shrink into stone where the rivers
pass by us unrespecting of our dignities, where those who
walk upon us, simply consider as us nothing but foot stools.
We may think of the divine. Let us see what happens next.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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If Only I Were a Bird
If only I were a bird,
my days would be forever happy
Chirp from tree to tree
And live worry-free.
If only I were a bird,
I would fly from
Cyprus to Chile
and have a tour on earth.
If only I were a bird,
I would dropp fruit seeds
Hoping a fruit tree will grow
For other birds to take shade.
If only I were a bird
I won't be
worrying about work
Bills, car, or clothes
poem by Champs Ulysses Cabinatan
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Caged
People began bidding for a confined bird on a ledge
A poor bird in a iron cage.
No one knows this birds age.
It was the pleasing color of sage.
The sea was in a constant rage.
Everyone was afraid of standing near the outside stage.
The bird went to the highest bidder for a high price.
The auctionor asked him what he was going to do with the bird?
The owner of the bird set it free.
So it could fly from tree to tree.
The bird said thank you by singing its wild glee.
This reminds me of how God can set a mans souls free.
Thank you God for setting my soul free.
Just A Question
how can the violence
of your kiss justify
the silence of the stone?
how can the stony silence
ever justify the
promise of a kiss?
how can a stone be a kiss?
and how can a kiss be another stone?
how can my silence be your stone?
and how can your kiss be so stony?
do we revolve in this pact we call love
only on the kiss and the stone?
no stone shall be left unturned
and no kiss shall deceive and kill
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Need For Affirmation
how i tried to be just myself in the corner
like a stone
but it is not at all possible
i am not just a stone
i am a worm
how i wish just to wriggle
and live in that
small leaf
but it is not at all possible
i am a butterfly
how i wish just to flutter
from one flower to
another
but it is not at all possible
i am a bird
how i wish to be just a bird,
a cloud, the sun, the moon
or the thousand stars
and then i become
a man
and it is enough
you just called my name
and it is perfectly a good beginning
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Bird
(9/15/12)
I saw a bird perched on a tree
I looked at him and he looked at me.
The strangest bird that I ever did see
He had a tail about four inches long
With that body it did not belong.
He had a body smaller than a sparrow
With a beak long and narrow.
He made a sound that I never heard
Not like one you'd hear from a bird.
It was not like the sounds of a love bird
Canary, or cockatoo, but a soft whistle
Which filled the air, and with all
Living things it wanted to share.
It was like a hypnotic sound
And turned my head completely around.
His soft whistling cry was like
A call to the wild
Brought flocks of birds
Of every color and style.
Landing on every branch of the tree
And left no empty space that I could see.
This was the most beautiful sight that
I had ever saw, and I knew
I will see it no more.
© L. RAMS
poem by Louis Rams
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I Want To Be Free
(words & music by jerry leiber - mike stoller)
Theres no joy in my heart,
Only sorrow
And Im sad
As a man can be
I sit alone in the darkness
Of my lonely room
And this room
Is a prison to me
I look at window
And what to I see
I see a bird
Way up in the tree
I want to be free free
Free - ee - ee - ee
I want to be free
Like the bird in the tree
What good are my eyes,
They cant see you
And my arms,
They cant hold so tight
I have two lips
That are yearning,
But theyre no good to me
Cause I know I cant kiss you tonight
I look at window
And what to I see
I see a bird
Way up in the tree
I want to be free free
Free - ee - ee - ee
I want to be free
Like the bird in the tree
I want to be free
Like the bird in the tree
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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to Have A rED bIRD
THINGS that i own
are not bound, even books
they have pages
open, dog-eared
some even torn
i own these stained
margins
i put my signatures in
them
i own a red bird
because i planted a tree
beside the house
a branch has become
intimated to my window
and the red bird
sings there
i own the morning song now
but for me to learn
to fly
and own the sky too
i must
let the song go
i do not make my hands
as the house
of wings
neither my heart
the the treetops for
drifters
for in truth to own red birds
is always premised
on the respect for their
own freedoms....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Enoughs Enough
So early in the morning
Its the same now every day
Sign your name and number
Cutting from the ball and chain
Never letting go when
The weight was so deceiving
Treading on a turning wheel
Machinery is screaming
Shoulder to the stone again
Praying for the evening
Hiding as the fist hits steel
Chorus:
Enoughs enough
Its eye to eye
Enoughs enough
We cry
Enoughs enough
Of smoke and steel
Enoughs enough
Of turning this wheel
Looking at his picture
Steel did turn the skin to bone
Father I remember
The hands that had to break the stone
Chorus
song performed by by Asia
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I got one to lose the other
In the course of my journey
I entered a kingdom.
I invaded an enclave,
Where I found a bird,
Quite unlike mine,
So fresh, so strange.
I wished I had had her,
I went to capture the bird,
With the bird, her nest,
With nest its branch,
with the branch the whole tree,
The soil that holds it,
The whole enclave
With its inhabitants,
Plants and animals,
Bees and pests and worms and snakes.
An avaricious act
No more journey.
No home returns either.
What happened to my bird at home?
Who knows?
Maybe someone invaded.
Maybe someone captured.
29.08.2002
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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