Looking Back To The Mountains Strong
when things go wrong
we struggle with so much
silence
sometimes a whistle can make
a good pretension
a slight tap on the back
a hug can make a good compliment
with us
there must be more to this struggle in silence
the years have been adding up
like layers of soil upon a hill
we dig into all these layers
to find roots
they are not dead yet
the trees may have no leaves and
all the twigs may have dried up
and when you cut it
each shall give up its hollowness
too easily in a snap of your finger
the layers are pictures of what we are
what kindness we extended to our shortcomings
we look back to see mountains still strong with their peaks
we look forward to the endless horizon of the seas
there are two suns now
you and I.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Island Fever
Island fever
I think Ive got a touch of island fever
I do believe I feel a bit sauteed
This morning I was just some nonbeliever
Tonight I feel Ive joing a wild crusade
I never thought of life as being breezy
I never thought of time as time to play
I never thought that I could take it easy
But all those feelings changed for me today
Layers and layers of spices and flavors
Are finding their way to my brain
Layers and layers of costumes and players
That make my whole life look insane
Palm trees and views I cant believe
Why would I ever want to leave?
I think Ill take my shoes off and go walking
Down beside the caribbean sea.
I like the funny sounds of parrots squawking
I think I hear a hammock calling me.
Layers and layers of spices and flavors
Could this be some kind of charade?
Layers and layers of costumes and players
I think I will join the parade
Layers and layers of spices and flavors
Could this be some kind of charade?
Layers and layers of costumes and players
I think I will join the parade
I think Ive got a touch of island fever...
song performed by by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Layers
Above are layers of atmosphere, stratosphere,
Below layers of topsoil, rock and clay,
People in layers rich and poor,
Cities built on top of cities, on top of cities.
Layers of thought conscious to unconscious,
Felt in layers asleep to awake,
In a dream of a dream, of a dream in a dream,
In a dream of a dream, in a dream.
poem by Richard Jarboe
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
This Is My Hiding Place
as a child i was hurt
hurt so deeply with nowhere to tell how hurt i was once
with no other place to bury my tears
to shout my fears
there were no skies above me
there was no moon to confide
there were only walls
i have grown up
through layers and layers of silence
thick silence thicker than the earth of million years
strong and big and always
keen and piercing the walls that i have been used to
i have seen more about life's pains
and felt the dangers
that i have escaped and survived
i have become a man
and found this hiding place
my poetry.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Take A Pick For The Moment
we meet i only have one layer
we talk and i added another layer
we discuss and i added more layers
we dive to a certain depth and of course
i have to add more and more layers
so i may not drown
so i may not be too vulnerable to pressure
and when we come out of the water
our faces surfacing you do not recognize me anymore
i have layers and layers of myself
that even me
i cannot anymore recognize
the violence within
this turbulence of the self
this storm inside us
this layers and layers of selves
covering the truth
how can i ever uncover
what my depths cover from time to time
when you utter my name?
when you tell me that
i am myself.
there is no self.
There is no us.
There is no future.
I have only the past
and My now
Like a fruit basket
all fresh on top of your table.
Just take one
The apple perhaps.
And fill yourself.
For the moment.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Layers And Layers
we meet i only have one layer
we talk and i added another layer
we discuss and i added more layers
we dive to a certain depth and of course
i have to add more and more layers
so i may not drown
so i may not be too vulnerable to pressure
and when we come out of the water
our faces surfacing you do not recognize me anymore
i have layers and layers of myself
that even me
i cannot anymore recognize
the violence within
this turbulence of the self
this storm inside us
this layers and layers of selves
covering the truth
how can i ever uncover
what my depths cover from time to time
when you utter my name?
when you tell me that
i am myself.
there is no self.
There is no us.
There is no future.
I have only the past
and My now
Like a fruit basket
all naked on top of your table.
Just take one
The apple perhaps.
And fill yourself.
For the moment.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
So many layers
every poem
i wrote
a part of me
taken off
a butterfly
leaving behind
its larvae
to take on wings
and colours
to explore the world
to give world
another layer
to fascinate over
van gogh
that shed
so many layers
to bring out
those layers
on his canvas
to our hearts
layers of pains,
tears, and......
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Layers Of Wet Paint Applied
wet on wet paint on paint
layers of wet paint applied
to previous layered layers
technique requires rapid working
fevered fast compulsive genius painting
art in realms born in new mind expressions
art in realms born in space time multiversity visions
art work fever finished before first layers have dried
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Poem about poetry - Layers of Meanings
the trees, the mountains and rivers
transmit layers of consciousness
songs of incarnated states
now nature looks me back in the eyes
to unravel the things beyond them;
the moon, the sun and the stars
each of which illuminate symbols
and tales, rainbows that span
the horizon of my consciousness
the layers of thoughts nature parlays
in front of me pique this river of consciousness
i look at the sun and feel breathless
of the hope it still inspires and understand
how much tears it had helped to wipe
the round fiery sphere that now evokes
water and flame over my inspirations
Jahan and Mumtaz, are you walking
the lane of love again, hand in hand
eyes glued to the pinnacle of love the Taj Mahal?
i look at the moon and realise the countless
nights it had helped illuminate for love wishes
to be made and prayers to be recited
i look at the river and see a quiet and
collected monk journeying in quest for nirvana
i see the vapour of the river rises to form rain
that beats down to reprise another tale
of the pains of growth physical and spiritual
in between all this, a young man looks back
and is fascinated by how everything has added
up to make this consciousness a bearer to all
that has gone beyond; mountain beyond
mountain, horizon over horizon
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Looking and going back...
there were layers of years.
you were on one of those layers. You are blue,
a line of blueness, in between those other colors,
You are always the silent kind of blue.
They skip you and find you one of those insignificant lines.
The years pad each other like the barks of a tree.
You are one of the bold strokes now. Time does it.
They you go back to that old layer. You were blue.
You make some squeezes, and etchings on those other lines.
They squeak like rats.
You tell them that once you were there and you were the blue line.
They fully remember. But there is no difference really.
Your thinking is misplaced. You think you are different now.
No, they didn't. You finally regret going back.
You retreat once again inside the room sit on the chair.
You are a blue line. You corrugate a little bit like a magnetic ecg line.
But it will not last. You are a straight line now.
You watch TV till midnight. There is nothing significant.
You are still a blue and straight line. That you have to accept as a fact.
You turn off the TV. A nice sleep is always a better alternative.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Layers
You must consider that everything is layered
The earth has layers of air, water, soil, rock, fire to its
Core
Molten fire
A fruit has layers of an external cover
Something hard, then soft and a
Sometimes a hollow core
A cake has layers too of sugar coating
Moist cake
And chocolate
End layer
My body has layers of skin
Tissue, flesh, bone
And nerves and
Marrow
The core can be hollow
And the mind
The soul has layers of understanding
Layers and layers of consciousness
To sub consciousness
Ego superego
To a layer
Beyond our grasp
Tips of the tongues
Slippages
Déjà vu
Memory gaps
Did we meet somewhere?
Do I remember you?
These sorts of some things
That happen which we know we can explain yet we can’t
Something somewhere
Could be
What if
Was I there somewhere sometime?
She somehow touches me and I feel it
I don’t really remember when
That smile that you wear was the same smile I saw somewhere
Foggy places, opaque faces, vague bodies hugging us in dreams
Murky rivers bathing us hazy rains lazily sizing Zen in showers
Some windows in some house
Remaining close
My heart is light and it is flying like a little light bird on its first wing
There is always a sense of awe and wonder to everything that I do here
An onion peeling, layer by layer, tear by tear
Here. I am. Here I am becoming unfolding to another beginning
No entries and no exits
Off limits, nothing yet allowed.
Meanwhile I am breathing, smelling something somewhere.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Artwork
Artwork is particular, general works are about,
The scrutiny of an artistic work is immense;
The world profoundly elucidates me as an artist,
The big methods employed are far beyond mere thought.
What layers of thought have enriched us and all?
The layers of justice reside in the palettes of the masters;
Demonstrations of peace are derived from the work of art,
We must lunge forward into the dark and make benefit.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Petroleum for the Mind
sometimes, i feel getting to your poetic self
is like prospecting for petroleum?
you dig through layers and layers of years
before you could get to the subtle aspects
of your pscyhe, where you either find black
gold or just echoes of disappointments
the morass of black, if you work hard enough
can be refined to run minds like posh cars on the streets
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Seven Layers of Heaven
touch,
sight,
taste,
hear,
smell
....
....
seven layers
of heaven
set in me
two more
layers
lost in
myself
clouded
in the views
cast by the world
heaven
comes in
seven
layers
so say hindus,
chinese,
buddhists,
even the muslims
and hell?
between
all
the senses
the heart
that torments
the doers
for
his misdeeds
the fugitive
who manages
to run away from
everybody
but not
the burning hell
of conscience
that pokes
at his top
making him bleed
at the heart
day and night
hell and heaven
bound in this
frame of
heart, soul
and mind
a living hell?
the heaven
in seven layers
the other two layers?
sixth sense?
seventh sense?
two puzzles
that wait
for an answer
hidden
in the realms
that circle
around me
i look into the sky
and journey
to the
eternal sphere
that joins me
to the moons, stars
try taking me
out of this world
and it sure looks different
feel different
a whole new world
the seventh sense
seventh heaven
the sixth?
the woman
who digs
deep into
layers of her own mind
to find the dates
of her own death
and exciting upcoming events
of the world, the tsunami
third world war,
end of the world
a nostradamus
a hell in between all these?
the scorn
from bigots
two layers
of heaven that got lost
in me
covered by
the clouds
five is perhaps
a more lucky number
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Or Existence
look at you
you take pride of myriad leaves
of branching twigs
of a sturdy trunk
you are saying you are
well rooted
and strong and no
wind is good enough
to uproot you
look at me
i have no roots
i am bald for i have not
a single leaf
from my imaginary
branches
from my twigs which you say
do not exist at all
you laugh and take pride
with what you are
and what you own andwhat you keep
i am invisible and i have no word
that i own
i am not even a wind
since i do not touch your leaf
and cannot let you feel
i do not doubt that it is my mere silence
that horrifies you
and i thank myself
for just being this way
i have no name
i have no self
i merely pass by
and i do not come
back
and so beyond myself and all these
you are nothing too
as i perceived myself to be
not a wind not a sound
nothing about roots
or existence.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The older the layers, the more each of them is uniform over a great extent; the newer the layers, the more they are limited and subject to variation within small distances.
quote by George Cuvier
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
An Occurence....
when things go awry
like some plates flying out of the kitchen
breaking their faces on the floor
one day
or in some other days of your liking
you become so engrossed
in your silence
your hands begin to pick up the pieces
pondering
the mind probes deeper
into some
recesses of memories long buried
in those layers of years
and then
your feet begins to decide to walk away
silence no longer
synonymous with silence
sounding more
like some winds wishing
for swan
songs....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Chocolate Cherry
A sinful delight, melting slowly,
Hey, so what! Get heavy.......
Forget the weight, Forget the pound
Forget the calories, Who wants to count?
So sweet, so good, so light,
Can't keep it out of sight.
Layers and layers of ice-cream,
Like a Heavenly dream.
Flowing, gliding Chocolate cake Cherry,
Decadent, when they marry.
Weather-esque
Wind gusted and
Snow fell.
Flakes blew about this way and that,
Creating a semi-transparent veil of
Frozen precipitation.
Legs trudged through hip-high drifts
While hardened snow crunched underfoot.
Mitten-covered hands clench a hardwood staff
That digs through the layers of snow and
Impales the half-frozen ice underneath.
The wind blows north to south,
Straight into my face.
Two t-shirts, three long sleeves,
A sweater, a jacket, a hooded sweatshirt,
A big puffy coat lined with fur,
A hat and earmuffs,
Two layers of mittens and four layers of socks
With fur-lined, water-proof boots,
Along with two scarves,
And still the wind feels like
Knives are stabbing into my bare skin,
As if my very soul were bared to the tempest.
It howls down from the north into the valley,
Roaring past my ears,
Moving so hard and so fast it’s as if
It’s fleeing from some terrible beast.
The snow flashes brilliantly in the
Dim sunlight,
Blinding me no matter where I look,
Even when my face is down to protect it from the wind.
Layer upon layer gather atop the already
Icy ground—wet snow and fluffy snow,
Icy snow and more wet snow and some more
Fluffy snow again.
Trying to walk through it is like
Trekking through some viscous liquid,
Caramel, perhaps,
Especially going uphill.
Mountains hem in the valley
Like monstrous stone colossi
Gazing over some long-forgotten land.
Their peaks are lost within the white
Storm. What can be seen of the mountains
Are just flinty bases encased in layers of snow.
I finally reach the crest of the hill.
Below me is spread a vast expanse of white.
No details can be made out except for the
Never-ending range of mountains and snow.
Well, here it goes, I think and
Begin to make my descent.
Faith and Jesus
Jesus came back into my life.
But I had to get myself ready...
This time to make things right.
Jesus came back into my life.
But I had to get myself ready...
This time without a struggle.
Prepared to pick a fight!
Misgivings?
I had to leave.
Deceiving...
People,
Who left my heart to bleed!
Receiving?
More love to give!
Leaving behind me...
All the things negative!
Jesus came back into my life.
But I had to get myself ready...
This time without struggle or fight.
Jesus came back into my life.
But I had to get myself ready...
This time to make things right.
Receiving?
More love to give!
Leaving behind me...
All the things negative!
And believing,
I had to see!
I held misery inside,
That grieved and troubled me!
Yes...
Jesus came back into my life.
But I had to get myself ready...
This time to make things right.
Said...
Jesus came back into my life.
But I had to get myself ready...
This time without struggle!
Prepared to pick fight.
Misgivings?
I had to leave.
Deceiving...
People,
Who left my heart to bleed!
I'm living,
Stronger each day.
I've got what it takes..
To make sure what I've got,
Stays that way!
Hey...
Jesus came back into my life.
But I had to get myself ready,
This time to make things right.
I had to get myself ready,
This time to make things right!
Pettiness is fading steady...
With faith and Jesus on my side!
Jesus came back into my life.
But I had to get myself ready...
This time to make things right.
I had to get myself ready...
Without a struggle!
Or a search to fight.
This time I'm more than ready,
Knowing what it takes to feed...
My growing appetite!
'Don't lock it up...
Let it out and rock it!
Collect the good that's offered you,
And share it from your pocket! '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Snake
life is covered by a layers of skins-meaning, culture, conversational skills, talks, established education, certificates, friends, neighbours, dignity, concepts conditioned, sociality and liberty
When these skins fall off, one cannot even touch the softest metaphors of communication-light itself for success in life
A snake of life
Poisonous thin layers of knowledge of the world
Ancient wisdom comes back as a river of lost footsteps
In the forest of mindscape
A snake
Layers of skins taking off the airports of body
Now you are a man but not a human installing the humanity you yourself are longing for
A snake losing its tracking lines on earth