Keeping That Faith In Love
when the journey
seems unbearable
you are walking barefoot
on a noonday
desert
no oasis, no palm
no Bedouin in sight to save you
it is just the angry
sun and
you
just the here and
the infinite
over there
you keep faith
in love
you do not ask
why or when
will this suffering end
love has given you
more than enough
overflowing
now it shall take back
what you have
forgotten
what you have taken for
granted
there was once paradise
you were that monkey
sitting over a mountain of gold
your hands have
the power
the spices of life
the opulence of cares
and the
rain of affections
moonlights of
whispers
myriad pleasures and joys
smokes
of hopes to the air
and sky
now it is the desert
the test
keep that faith
at the end of the desert is
the sea
the mountains and rivers
and trees
are just behind you
move
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Celibate
as expected the celibate
has written a poem about a desert
the listener junks it
for it makes her feel thirst and gives
a hint on death
the poem is revised
speaking now about the princess bathing
in the oasis
singing
attracting the black bird perched on
the date palm
she rises from the water
her breasts supple to the wind
she is waiting for the horse riding Bedouin
to carry her
to his kingdom
the reader is overjoyed in this
and sheds
the tears of joy
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Tears in Desert
Once upon a time in a desert,
There was a camel and an oasis,
Large terrain, scorpions, rattlesnakes, cruel sun and cactus,
Camel galloped its way through the painful elements,
May be this was less,
Qabilas and Pathans used it,
Bruised it,
Work done; Bye bye,
Beautiful motives to use it,
Tears filled its eyes but sun evaporated them all,
No one cared so on its knees,
Still working its way towards oasis,
But not getting it right,
Do you know who camel was? , or is?
Think twice, take your time,
Hope this time would enough for its journey to oasis...
poem by Vikrant Jog
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nORTH
there is no need for you to ask
because there is nothing to be understood
there is no answer
and there will be no answer that will satisfy
the thirst of your mouth
and your mind
stay there and listen
see the unfolding of that which closes and
opens before you
this is rather exciting
a mushroom standing on its own roof
an anemone opening and closing its fingers
in the slightest notice of your presence
the rocks and the sands are terrible
they stand there
witnesses of so many crimes against the sea
yet their silence is sealed with the permanence
of the hiding, a concealment of
things which must not be revealed.
there is nothing here worthy reading
there is nothing waiting for an understanding
there is only a state upon itself
without a clap, a buzz, a slip of the tongue.
why must one insist that there is a code
a hidden secret embedded in one of the words
a phrase to guide to the exact location of
the treasure of Monte Cristo.
Let us be silent. Nothing is meant.
Nothing is called. Nothing is trapped.
There is only a caravan of words like camels
in the desert. They do not know a thing
about this journey.
It is only me. The Bedouin with an oasis
mapped in the lines of my palm.
A star overhead. The North of my existence.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Thrill Of Hope
you love and fail
and you want to die
the heart that loves and fails
shirks and shrinks like a drying grape to the desert sun
raisin, look at you, you have become a raisin
wrinkled fruit,
shrinked to the size minimal to the existence
desired, you dry some more, taking away all the life
possible in your skin and bone
the desert sun is cruellest
in you
so unforgiving so determined to shrink you
more than a raisin
this cruelty can turn you into a stone
the night has come
this thrill of hope comes like a comforting friend
to tell you raisin,
keep the sweetness still
for tomorrow's bitterest spill
the cruelest sun
the deadliest ever
on this desert sun the hottest sands
and you will not surrender
the hope is still there
the dream is this oasis somewhere
the bedouin and his coming camel
who knows? and when?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Camel
I am like a camel wandering in a harsh and unforgiving desert. The heat manipulates my eyesight. The dunes warp and twirl subtly in front of me. I wonder to myself if whether or not the world has dried up, for I haven't seen water in miles and miles. My tongue lies in my mouth, shriveling like a prune, pitted and lightly bathed in crisped saliva. My spit is thick, coating my gums and teeth as if it were a translucent tar. I am thirsty, walking aimlessly—searching for some sort of lost oasis which may or may not exist. There must be a fresh pool standing alone somewhere; I dream of it in my parched thoughts. My skin burns—golden brown and tanning, cracking similar to the dusty, torrid dirt under my feet. The sun beats down hard on the barren land. I long for softer soil, to feel my toes dig into the porous ground. I wish for an all-encompassing shade to swallow the desiccating heat and the dehydrated swat droplets lining my brow. Where are you my palm tree? Can't you save me from my muscles turning to sand that slips from the sides of my bones? I wander in the harsh and unforgiving desert with only the water I've stored in my body. One day, it will be gone and I may still be looking for you, my lost and beautiful oasis.
poem by Tim Stensloff
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Save Me
I'm driving through the desert I, met a man
Who told me of his crazy plan
He'd been walking there for 20 days
He was going to walk on
For 20 more
Said "How about a drink or a bite to eat?"
He said "No, my faith is all I need"
So then, save me
Save me mister walking man
If you can
You don't need to prove a thing to me
Just give me faith, make me believe
Come on, save me
Save me Mister walking man
If you can
Come on, save me
Save me Mister stranger
If you please save me
Save me
Stranger, if you please
Or am I too far gone
I see to get back home
To get back home
How about you take a ride with me
We could kill some time, shoot the breeze
He said "every whispering wind and second counts"
Oh, maybe if you walk, but you should drive around
Save me
Save me
Mr walking man, if you can
Come on, save me
Save me Mr stranger, if you please
Save me, save me
Stranger, if you please
Or am I too far gone
To get back home
To get back home
I don't need you to stall for some time, no
I don't need you to turn water into wine, no
I don't need you to, to fly
I'm just asking you to save me
(You might try savin' yourself)
I'm gonna save me
(You might try savin' yourself)
I swear those lips shine
(You might try savin' yourself)
As it, the moon, the moon it shines
(You might try savin' yourself)
Why don't you, save me
(You might try savin' yourself)
Come on and save me
(You might try savin' yourself)
song performed by by Dave Matthews Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lewd object
you make my heart boil
like water looking for the bitterness of
tea
the temperature on my head
rises to the
level of the desert and i become
the Bedouin
racing with my black horse
looking for
oasis
there is water around me now
there are sweet dates and grapes within the mighty hold
of my hands
i must be cursed
i am never satisfied
this thirst and hunger
this difference
they are always
insatiable
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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In the Spirit of Rumi-39-The Desert
As the cool dawn brings the light
to the desert where the blue-white sky
meets the sand that time and man have brought,
and you wake the camel boy
to lead the camels from the waterside –
before you mount the lurching beast
and sway off into the desert on your path,
the camel-bells tinkling on the harness,
look into the camel’s eyes.
There you will see mingled,
pride in its being; patience in its duty.
The wise men say that God is found
where opposites meet and are resolved.
Proud in its being, patient in its duty –
no great wonder, then, that the camel
has been chosen of God to take you
across the desert of your destiny in faith and trust;
for in the world of metaphor, where man meets God
in the mind’s own language,
the camel is your body; dutiful proud servant
for the journey you must take; your company
for the length of time that journey takes.
So, traveller, when you reach the green and cool oasis
at the ending of the day’s sufficient journey -
first tie your camel by the waters of refreshment
before you kneel; for food; for prayer; then
resting in the bright-eyed company;
the eyes of those who scan the round horizon as they ride
and wonder always, what oasis lies beyond.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Island In The Sand
You are walking across the desert,
under a hot blazing sun;
you eyes search the horizon
for an oasis somewhere.
Places of palm trees,
and a pool of cool water there,
a little island in the sand.
Finally you see something,
you run headlong towards it,
dive into the cool water.
This is what you think you see,
but you end up bathing in the hot sand,
it is only a mirage you see.
Love can also be,
very much like that,
island in the sand.
Once you get close,
it may also disappear.
14 June 2007
poem by David Harris
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Towards the Oasis
There is no journey on boats
Without the oars
There is no pathway to victory
Without the steps of defeats
Without a long journey through the desert
You will never get an Oasis
Once the struggle is over
You will get the life you longed for
Burdens you carried on your shoulders so for
The struggle and tears
Will become sweet memory
And pages of your biography
poem by Kavin Charalan
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And then there were none
There were ten
Waiting by the road
Ready for a journey
Of an entire lifetime
The ten crossed the lake,
But the tenth was too scared
He left the others to their fates
And departed with some joy.
And then there were nine
Walking by the road,
Engrossed in the journey
Of an entire lifetime
The nine walked over a bridge
But the ninth saw a beauty
Pursued her, leaving the rest
And sealed his own fate
And then there were eight
Walking by the road,
Engrossed in the journey
Of an entire lifetime.
As they walked by the gorge,
The eighth saw a tree
Laden with fruits. Hunger
Consumed his life away
And then there were seven
Walking by the road,
Engrossed in the journey
Of an entire lifetime.
As they walked by the mountain
Cold consumed their hearts.
The seventh saw a route
To escape from the way.
And then there were six
Walking by the road,
Engrossed in the journey
Of an entire lifetime.
The trail went on and on
Never showed a sign of ending
The sixth lost all hope
And left the party, disgruntled.
And then there were five
Walking by the road,
Engrossed in the journey
Of an entire lifetime.
As they walked by the desert
Their throats parched
The fifth simply
Lost the will to carry on.
And then there were four
Walking by the road,
Engrossed in the journey
Of an entire lifetime.
They walked by the river..
And the fourth saw
His family dead. Grief
Caused him to kill himself.
And then there were three
Walking by the road,
Engrossed in the journey
Of an entire lifetime.
They walked into the cave
And the third saw gold.
Left the journey and
Retired to a new world.
And then there were two
Walking by the road,
Engrossed in the journey
Of an entire lifetime.
They walked by the plain
Feet overcome with pain
They began to hate the other
And the second lay dead.
And then there was one
Walking by the road,
Engrossed in the journey
Of an entire lifetime.
He struggled to reach the box
His left hand stretched
But at the moment of glory
His wounds killed him.
And then there were none.
Walking by the road,
Consumed by the journey
Of an entire lifetime.
poem by Devdan Vaidyanathan
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On My 10thousandth Poem
when i reach that number
it is because of the days that bore
it is because of the pain that does not cease
or he joys that jump
the bliss that soars in the sky
like a bird untiring about the flapping of its wings
that seagull that dives like an odd ball
to the surface of the sea
or that eagle that keeps its sharp gaze
on the tiny prey
i am lost
but i know how to find myself in the words
of the nth poem
it is the flow of the river
which does not just end at the sea
it is the waves that keep on going and reaching
far away
it is the story that meets a story and tells a story
upon another story
it is the desert sand, the Bedouin
and his princess
it is the oasis that source of life
these poems or whatever you call it
when you are angry because
they are not
but whatever that is
i am a consciousness
and also a trance
i am speaking i am listening
i am myself i am not myself
i a confusion and a certainty
now you must understand that there is nothing to understand
there is only the emotion
that goes on and on and one
simply because i remain alive
simply because i decide to keep this life
moving upon itself
not on another man's decision
not mine alone
not mine but upon itself a being on itself...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Zeroing....
back to the desert
finding out that the only dater palm is dead
the oasis is gone
the caravan of camels and Bedouins
fade in the distance
the woman in silky veil
rides in her black horse
in the opposite direction
the howling sound of the night
shakes the full moon
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Automatic writing
sometimes there is too much of a nature in what you do
and too little of the mind
like an Id without a mandala
get swallowed by the uncontrollable currents
at the moment when you forget
because you want to forget
you are the boss there
and whatever you do
you do it unto yourself
the world's got nothing to do with that
which why I sometimes 'hate' you
it reminds me of those moments in myself
I am trying to a-void
because I've experienced
that walking barefoot on ice
and walking barefoot on a heated asphalt
is the same things
feet burn in both cases
why do you want to burn
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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How Can I Fake Some Feelings?
when you fake your orgasm
i know it
by heart, there is no moisture
in my thoughts,
dry
as a desert i walk like a bedouin
without a song
my camel looking for some
water in the oasis
mirage,
we too are mutual
in this faking game
i do not even have to fake
my feelings
loving you
it is the bulb in my head
above the bed
where we make love
in an intertwine
when the light clicks
see another face
forgive me
i have had your fake orgasms
multiple in fact
but i really do not mind
faking my feelings
they are not there anymore
i do not have them
they have long been buried
in the marrow of my
bones
the red blood there
long dried
i do not even remember
where and when
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Walking through the garden of life
Walking through the garden of life
We do experience many ups and downs
Sometimes we see beautiful flowers
Sometimes we are in midst of the prickling thorns
Sometimes we are surrounded by the colorful butterflies
Sometimes we are stung by the angry bee
Walking through the garden of life
We do experience many ups and downs
Sometimes we have to walk over the smooth grass
Sometimes we find a slippery path
Sometimes we have to swim across a long river
Sometimes we find a constructed bridge
Walking through the garden of life
We do experience many ups and downs
We don't know what we might find next
But this suspense makes the journey interesting
And at last when we reach the destination
The entire journey becomes memorable
Yes, walking through the garden of life
We do experience many ups and downs
Kavitha
poem by Kavitha Krishnamurthy
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The Song Of The Bedouin
how lonely the desert can be
under an orange moon
without the bedouin's song
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Second Look
i must have been
mistaken,
that evening you
were a full moon
on my desert
you were the warmth
of my cold body,
i bathed with time
in the oasis
under the palms,
at the second look
at you
you have become
the sun
that speaks of
thirst and
death to me
help me
reverse time,
let me save
that love
i have for you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Foes & Friends
Sky is angry with me as I said once a dark sky.
Ocean is angry with me because I said her language is hoarse.
Stars are angry with me as I found they are infinite?
Only the needy are friendly with me,
As I know how much they saved in the banks?
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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It Is Enough To Destroy Life
do not delve on meanings
if you really have to enjoy this life
on the desert sands somewhere in Egypt
we do not trace the roots of the sea
the tragedies of the oasis
the life span of the date palm
the ways and means of the Tigris Euphrates
we are here to view the moon
through the glasses in our hands
filled with rose
wine.
click my glass with your glass
cheers! Salud!
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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