Last Night I Wrote A Poem In My Visayan Language
it was only for me
visayan lines
flowers i pick
from my own garden
only for me
to see to smell to smash
not for the world
my mumblings
murmurs
of my homegrown
longings
finally, seeing selfishness
having tendrils
and roots in my hands and feet
i deleted it
early in the morning
nipping it in the bud
the eyes of my prison
i open the window
to the language
of the world, so you can see
so you can come inside me
welcome welcome welcome
the tower of babel has fallen
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
From The Tower Of Babel
From the tower of babel
let me see you rise...
one by one
...by one.
From the tower of babel
let me see you
united...
divided...
united...
again and again
...and again.
From the tower of babel
let me see the world
lightened...
darkened...
lightened...
again and again
...and again.
From the tower of babel
let me see you rise
...my dear.
poem by Marites C. Cayetano
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Some Questions
for years of harnessing the horses of
word
scrubbing the back of phrases
what shall my hands become?
shall these hands be a vase for flowers
wilting in your room?
shall these hands be barks of trees
where your moss and lichens thrive wild?
shall these hands be finally exhausted
and grope again the shaken beams
of my own confusions?
or soon shall i speak in tongues
in the tower of babel
shall my thoughts become tribes
scattered in different directions?
shall i soon speak like you on the eloquence
of the pedestals?
i look forward to this art
as a savior of my crucifixion
i look forward to Frankensteins finally
converted as angels
as fairies in the lands of my fantasies
or shall i be roaming on the fields
of realities
stark and open
lighted with the sun and
refreshed with the true winds
from the waving seas?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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You Do Not Notice The Genius Of Other People
in your vanity
in the tallness of your price
like the tower of babel
you stand disunited
and scattered soon
you shall be like leaves
blown by the winds
of change
you do not notice the genius
of other people
you have looked so profusely
inside yourself
and you have not only become
one meaningless tower
but a cave digging more
confusions towards
the darkness of your
feet
try opening the eyes between
your eyes
try using the ears embedded
in your ten fingers
hear those who have no spoken
listen
see those who are like shadows
living
in the twilight of your life
perhaps you can find yourself
the paradox keeps upon itself the truth
your heart thrives somewhere
your hands have not been holding
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Out My Window
Looking out the window to see the world
The many trees, the birds, Squirrels, the cars
Mother nature's beauty just on the other side
Wishing I could go out and breathe the air
Trapped inside, getting the cabin fever
Health will not let me out
To walk on the grass, smell the flowers
Enjoy the sounds around
The outside world moving like I don't exist
Please a few minutes out before the cold gets me
I live for the touch of grass and dirt between my toes
The smell of rain in the air, birds a flying
No me stuck in this big old chair, gazing out
Wishing to be young to run around
My body so old and dying, where did my time go
When young, mom couldn't keep me in
Football, baseball, hide and seek, I will not peek
Bike rides, skateboards, walks so endlessly around the block
How time has changed, when did I get old
The view out this window brings fond memories
I wish I could go thru it, escape to the their world
Older I get the more I want out
Body creaking, aches and pains, use your brains
Enjoy it form inside, someday you'll get out
Window be my friend and open up
To feel the breeze and smell the air
For it makes me young again
poem by Michael Peterson
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Just When The Rain Stops
just when the rain stops
something within you stops too
the misery of being
confined in the small prison of
your thoughts
you find a window
and this wide door and you grope
for the key
to open something closed
days ago
you breathe the sea breeze
and take some salt of
life and you
release your sighs like
an earned ire
you take freedom finally
letting go your fingers and hands
your feet dance
go, go, go
your books on the table make the
cheering squad
out there
nature wants to be read
the books close finally
their pages like tongues
hide behind the thick glossy
hardbound cover
you are not a fool finally
touching the maps drawn
by the falling rain
welcome to the world
the trees tell you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Through My Eyes
I believe-
I believe my thoughts are being broadcasted
I believe you can see my world through my eyes-
When your eyes are closed, I believe that you can hear my thoughts
My thoughts that speak of persecution and threat
These thoughts, as directed towards the rest of the world.
I place my hands over my eyes so that
What is inside of mind does not become
The literature of other people-
Even though my thoughts are silent
When your eyes make contact with mine,
All that I am thinking screams out to you and
I know you wish to harm me.
I believe-
I believe I am being threatened
Being threatened by those who follow my path,
Walking behind me, and somehow
Knowing my destination-
The leaves upon the trees have fallen in autumn and
Now the trees are barren, and I have no place to hide.
This whole world has become the enemy.
I believe my thoughts are broadcasted as I walk,
Kicking aside stones and the leaves that have fallen-
Snow has fallen upon the edge of time and
I stand upon the edge of time, counting the minutes-
Counting every second before the whole world knows of
The anger, hurt and my thoughts misconstrued,
That are torturing me every day and every night-
All I can do is to keep on walking and hope
That one day this mistrust of the world shall
Heal inside my troubled mind and somebody’s eyes
Will make contact with mine and say
“it doesn’t matter to me what you are thinking because
You are a person with a heart and a soul like everyone else and
I believe we all have faults-“ I look towards the sky searching for an increment of hope A world exists inside of me- a beautiful world I hope someday will not matter
If I let somebody inside to see- to know my destination and
I won’t need to hide anymore- when spring comes flowers shall blossom and
Leaves shall grow in the summer- and in the autumn leaves shall turn colors and fall-
I shall continue my journey towards the day I can learn to trust the world around me,
As I kick aside the stones and the fallen leaves as I walk-
With my eyes open to the world, my spirit, unafraid.
Claudia Krizay
poem by Claudia Krizay
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Gentle
let us walk by the sea
one early morning on bare feet
let us hold our hands and talk a while
about ourselves
let us stop for a while and sit
on the white sand under a talisay tree
let us feel the breeze meeting our faces
let us wait for the sun to finally shine
let us marvel to this changing world
the passing wind
the sun slowly rising
the sea gradually growing before us
let us stop talking for a while
let our eyes see forward
let us hold our hands tighter
let us feel our strong union with the world today
let there be no questions for a while
let there be only amazement
let there be so much wonder
let us try to have a glimpse of forever
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Early morning rain
Early morning rain
~
Rain taps upon the window
while the faint light of morning
lines the gap between curtains
a halo of pale blue illuminates
the darkness of the room
a cold beyond the duvet
invites a reason not to move
while tired eyes open and close
motionless I lay here listening
to the sound of the rain
like restless fingers drumming
upon the windowpane
in the early hours of morning
I lay awake
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Alive In The World
I want to live in the world, not inside my head
I want to live in the world, I want to stand and be counted
With the hopeful and the willing
With the open and the strong
With the voices in the darkness
Fashioning daylight out of song
And the millions of lovers
Alive in the world
I want to live in the world, not behind some wall
I want to live in the world, where I will hear if another voice should call
To the prisoner inside me
To the captive of my doubt
Who among his fantasies harbors the dream of breaking out
And taking his chances
Alive in the world
To open my eyes and wake up alive in the world
To open my eyes and fully arrive in the world
With its beauty and its cruelty
With its heartbreak and its joy
With it constantly giving birth to life and to forces that destroy
And the infinite power of change
Alive in the world
To open my eyes and wake up alive in the world
To open my eyes and fully arrive in the world
To open my eyes and wake up alive in the world
To open my eyes and fully arrive in the world
song performed by by Jackson Browne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The White Poodle
the white poodle rushes inside
the living room
this early morning when i
first open the door
for the air and light
to come in
as i stand by the window
to see the world again
it wags its tail
asking for a little attention
which i so willingly give
and then
with all affection it sits
near my feet
i put my hand on its head
and it rubs its head
warmly on my palm
as usual
we mark this day
with friendship
and then another day unfolds
like a bud blooming for happiness
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A choice
My feet are heavy
To an early church mass
And my hands caress them
When she is gone finally
My feet become lighter
And my hands stopped pretending
Then the real loving begins
Alone, this window opens
There my love
Lurks posing as a nude woman
Her arms opening to take me in
& through this window
Some yellow butterflies with black edges on its wings
A little larger than my thumb
Circle over my head.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Morning, Noon And Nightime....
it was early morning
when what i am is merely hearing voices
and all i can do is look at those faces
and sometimes make a stare
at noon, i have learned many things
and i begin to speak their language
adopt their way at looking at this world
and attempt many times to understand each part
i've read on the papers that evening
about a woman who jumped to the sea and was never found
there is the shiver that goes to the bottom of my marrow
i check my bones
some people have become periods of the long paragraph
i judge them sometimes and put those flowers of sympathy
i do not sleep till dawn
my hands are resting on my forehead
my eyes are painting the ceiling
and my feet are buried on the ground
such is the case of some complaisance
as morning arrives again singing its blue marks
upon its cheeks are tattoos
which i have mistaken as scars
there are always other matters
i sleep with them now.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Interactive
I write some lines and you read each word
A word excites you and you take it up to
Seed your fields where you grow your own
Shrubbery of words with tendrils climbing
I look at your garden of words and there is
This word growing into a flower attracting
Me I pick it up this sensual flower and I
Seed it in the lines of my mind now another
Bunch of words like ripe grapes I take one
Swallow it and savor the taste of its sweetness
More lines of words in my throat sliding
Through the lining of my esophagus so smooth
Going straight inside the veins leading to my heart
Sweet, so sweet I could have written the usual
Lines of “ I love you, I miss you” but I couldn’t
There is this roadblock, this writer’s block
The lines stopped, the words are stunted
I stutter, I retreat to my eyes, to see
The face of this woman I love, her eyes
Are gentle, she smiles at me, and waits
For this beautiful silence that gives her life
You stand there, looking for a hint, another
Word to seed the lines waiting to be written.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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To Find The World
to find the world
is to find your world
that is it, this is what is
it all about
it is about you and the world
you finally find
at first in your fingertips
spinning and then
inside your heart
you spinning
inside your world
the world spins
finally inside you
and you and the world
you finally find
become one
to find the world
your world
finds you and you are
not surprised anymore
the awe and wonder
inside your heart
where now
the world lives
in peace
you and your world
in harmony
like body and soul
sleeping together
in twilight
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Rhythm Of The Heat
Looking out the window
I see the red dust clear
High up on the red rock
Stands the shadow with the spear
The land here is strong
Strong beneath my feet
It feeds on the blood
It feeds on the heat
The rhythm is below me
The rhythm of the heat
The rhythm is around me
The rhythm has control
The rhythm is inside me
The rhythm has my soul
The rhythm of the heat
The rhythm of the heat
The rhythm of the heat
The rhythm of the heat
Drawn across the plainland
To the place that is higher
Drawn into the circle
That dances round the fire
We spit into out hands
And breathe across the palms
Raising them up high
Help open to the sun
Self-conscious, uncertain
Im showered with the dust
The spirit enter into me
And I submit to trust
Smash the radio
No outside voices here
Smash the watch
Cannot tear the day to shreds
Smash the camera
Cannot steal away the spirits
The rhythm is around me
The rhythm has control
The rhythm is inside me
The rhythm has my soul
song performed by by Peter Gabriel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Early Morning Breeze
I open up my door to greet the early morning sun
Closing it behind me and away I do run
To the meadow where the meadow lark is singing in the tree
In the meadow I go walking in the early morning breeze
I cup my hands to catch a multi-colored butterfly
Perched upon the petals of flowers growing wild
Freeing it I watch it as it flies away from me
To visit with the flowers in the early morning breeze
Chorus:
Rainbow colored flowers kissed with early morning sun
The aster and the dahlia and wild geraniums
Drops of morning due still linger on the iris leaves
In the meadow where Im walking in the early morning breeze
Misty-eyed I look about the meadow where I stray
For its there I find the courage to greet the coming day
For there among the flowers I kneel gently to my knees
To have a word with God in the early mornig breeze
2nd chorus:
A rainbow colored meadow kissed with early morning sun
The aster and the dahlia and wild geraniums
Drops of morning due still linger on the iris leaves
In the meadow where Im walking in the early morning breez
song performed by by Dolly Parton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Taking Courage
there is no escape
when our eyes
meet again
on a morning like this
my feet are tired of
running from the
dreams of
my hands
the heart speaks
and my mind
keeps the intricate
tendrils of its
logic
all of them point to
the flower of love
that blooms
finally i cut it from
its stalk
and deep in the
hollows of my heart
this vase
without water
i shall watch
it wilt
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Watching The Flowers
i open the window
and look out to the garden below
the rain just stopped
and every leaf had the share of the
morning shower
dewy, each leaf smiles
each flower opens each petal anticipating
the sun
fingers of sunlight arrive
and there is touching and hugging
and kissing
light to dew to leaves
flowers to the rays of the sun
such a joy
like an early morning chat with a friend
you haven't had a talk for days
and you discuss
social studies
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Alive, Alive
at dawn sleep left without a word
my back curves and my arms look for something to hold
to grip what is there before me
my fingers shake and holds the keys
of the computer
they all begin to scribble words
to assure my being
that i am a tree with roots
a vine with tendrils
an earth still blessed with a sun
and winds and breeze
i sweat and look around
i stand still beside a window
i open the eye of the world before me
and said to myself
everything is alive
to include me.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Undesrtanding Art
exercises of the mind,
this morning chill and the waiting hours,
i open the window
to see what they call is another
ordinary day,
a vine hangs in the garden wire
freely it gives three flowers
which the wind takes away,
i take time
this is the moment of conversion
when the ordinary day becomes
special when the three flowers
symbolize the trinity
of faith, hope and love,
the ordinary human eye
seeing the whole world
in such a short time
such beauty,
art plus
sensitivity and
humanity
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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