Losing Life Gently
sitting on the sand
taking a handful
of its whiteness
looking sadly
how each grain
falls gently from
my wilting fingers
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
After The Slow Slipping Of Self
grab your emptiness
like a handful of sand
in your hand
and let it spill there
grain after grain
after grain
until all is gone
away
slipping from
your fingers
then feel that
your hands
are still yours
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Grain Of Sand
From every grain of sand
That falls from my hand
Through my fingers to the ground
To utter but not a sound,
For like a Human life
That pasted before my eyes
To be here and then be gone
Forgotten like yesterdays dawn.
For like a grain of sand
The Boy became a Man
Who cries tears of His fate,
For He knows for what Man did,
Is from what Man had made.
Though as being caught up in the air
And being blown to who knows where
For where we go, no man knows
And where we die, is where we lie.
We are all here a lifetime
As though it seems a long time
It is though, but a short time,
To live and love, then die.
Like a grain of sand
That falls upon the beach
To be caught up in the rain or air
And to go where no one can reach,
A Girl becomes a Woman
The Boy becomes a Man
And everyone makes their own fall,
Like a simple, grain of sand.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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That Part Of A Whole
it is a tiny part
as tiny as a grain of sand
you hardly give it
attention
you keep on saying
what is in this grain of sand
that philosophers
say contain this universe
something so tiny
yet to contain everything
and so you hold the grain of sand
against the light
and revolve it around your fingers
little finger planets
to the sun grain of sand
you cannot believe what you
felt and saw
and so you throw away that grain
of sand to the air
eating it like a big mouthed monsters
you are lost
your world dissolves
like ice
you turn to air
and there you are
gone.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Grain Of Sand
Life is like a grain of sand;
it can slip through your fingers
at any time and be lost forever.
We must enjoy every minute
while we have it
in case that too
slips through our fingers.
Love is a fleeting thing
that passes all too quickly through our lives
unless we grasp it tightly
never letting it go.
Our lives are like a grain of sand
and will slip through our fingers
before we get to enjoy it thoroughly.
20 November 2008
poem by David Harris
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0332 How were they to know?
Yes, how were they to know,
searching in the heat of forenoon dunes,
those high hills of sand
where once the forests grew,
now a rhythm of burnt sunned, cool shadowed, mock horizons,
- they, searching for the camel which had strayed -
and finding there, a man sitting still, cross-legged
in the sand upon a small strip
of faded coloured carpet,
palm of hand crossed in palm of hand,
and in the palm of his upraised right hand,
one grain of sand
and who, as they approached,
did not shift his gaze from that one grain;
and yet they sensed that he sensed them;
better let him be, he knows what he’s about,
or if he’s mad, at least he’s quietly purposeful…
how were they to know
that as he gazed, the universe he saw
in that one grain of sand then
grew inside of him? till it filled itself,
like a sand-clock, as the last grain
falls from the upper to
the lower, and all is still again
as measured time stops still
amid the sands of time?
how were they to know
as that small figure against the desert sand
his cloak still burning to the touch,
returned to the oasis, as the red-hot sun
sank below the dramatic shadow of the furthest dune,
and later, sitting by the green palms and papyrus reeds,
the camels head down, humped around the welcome pool,
one child, then many children,
then grown men, asked him their questions;
and the answers, as the night folded in
below more stars than anyone could count,
drew the circle of cross-legged silent listeners
- occasionally, urgent voiced with a lifetime’s pressing question -
as if some grain of sand became in their mind too
totality; the universe.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Grain Of Sand
I feel like Im walking on a mine
Im gonna leave it all behind
I feel like Im gaining my soul
While Im losing my mind
And I feel like I understand
And I feel like a grain of sand
Im gonna walk through that door
Im gonna see what its there for
cause all I ever want is your skin or your soul baby
But you couldnt give me either one of those
And I feel like I understand
And I feel like a grain of sand
And I feel like a grain of sand
You use to hold me like a flower
We used to talk for seven hours
I see the bigger picture now
And I feel like I understand
And I feel like a grain of sand
And I feel like a grain of sand
song performed by by Vonda Shepard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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From Among The Sands
from among the sands of the shore
and you must accept there are trillions and trillions of them there
you have the guts to tell all of them
that you are not like them
that you are this diamond
admired by emerald and sapphire
and that gold is inferior
the mighty sun shines everyday above the trillions of your kind &
it is not bothered at all
it does not know you &
finds nothing significant about your claim for self-claim for glamor & glitter
need i tell you Mr. grain of sand
that a grain of sand is and will always be a good-for-nothing grain of sand?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Seashore
Five string serenade
she smiled
she played
as her fingers bled
Cool blue in shadow
a memory flees
caught sipping
China tea from Spain
If I call
on a phone
hung on a wall
can I call
in all my
tomorrows
...collect
Follow anybody
every grain of sand
has destiny..
and a duty...
every single,
separate,
meaningless,
grain...
of futility.
poem by Midnights Voice
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A Grain Of Sand
If I hold a grain of sand
so tiny in my hand
it makes me sensitive and I understand
that is just like me.
For I am miniature on this earth
and yet I know my worth
and value how my granted birth
wants me to be free.
So I may wander with the flow
and like the sand just go
where the earthly tides do blow
so that I may see
that life is ever changing.
For it's rearranging
and always is exchanging
the scenes that come to me.
It creates new challenges I must face,
never allowing any space
to separate my warm embrace
from the grain of sand I see.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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This Universe
this universe, my friend,
is nothing but myself,
you tell me once,
the universe is seen as a grain
of sand,
now, i am truly a grain of sand,
not for the smallness of it
or the numbness of the
sandness of the sand,
nope, my friend, this universe
is nothing but myself,
when i go, it goes with me
when i close my eyes
everything disappears
you must tell me that it shall remain
as your universe
i shall understand
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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If I Could Fall In Love
When I was young
I fell in love
She was a goddess
With a world inside of her mind
When she moved on
Something went wrong
She took my power
And the love I had inside
Now that I found you
I don't know how to
If I could fall
In love again
I'd fall in love with you
If I could change
A grain of sand
Into a pearl I would
I pray in time
I'll come to find
Away to break through
And save this heart of mine
You've waited long
If you can't hold on
I wouldn't blame you
I don't think I'd be that strong
What am I to do
If I can't have you
If I could fall
In love again
I'd fall in love with you
If I could change
A grain of sand
Into a pearl I would
You love me so
Even though I don't know
How do you deal
With a man like me
If I could fall
In love again
I'd fall in love with you
If I could change
A grain of sand
Into a pearl I would
I would
song performed by by Lenny Kravitz from Lenny
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Trenches of Melancholy
Your loss,
Has left me,
In infinite sadness;
As my grains of sand are displaced, grain by grain;
By your horizon-bound tide;
As the sand castles,
That were built deep within,
The walls of my temple,
Are now fragile to the torrents of your brine;
As I gather on abyssal depths;
Scattered on the ocean floor;
Far from your graceful self waltzing below the heavens;
A fateful journey of divergent destinies;
As sand castles part pristine white sands;
To embrace trenches of melancholy.
Oh the fragility of love!
poem by Dilantha Gunawardana
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Hourglass
The sand flows through, marks grain by rain
the minutes which won’t come again.
Moments of pain, moments of pleasure.
They record with equal measure.
They mark them with a steady flow
the sand above drips down below.
Then when the final grain has dropped
It does not mean that time has stopped.
It’s time to turn the hour glass
so that the grains may freely pass.
From up above again below.
Time will not stop if they don’t flow.
But if it did how would you know
without the sand to tell you so.
8-Oct-08
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Beach
Sitting on the beach with my feet in the sand
Letting the song of the ocean clear my mind of ever thing
Sitting on the beach with my feet in the sand
Watching the surfers chase the perfect wave
Sitting on the beach with my feet in the sand
Watching the sun set on yet another perfect day
poem by Ron St Jean
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Queen Anne's Lace
Her body is not so white as
anemone petals nor so smooth--nor
so remote a thing. It is a field
of the wild carrot taking
thefield by force; the grass
does not raise above it.
Here is no question of whiteness,
white as can be, with a purple mole
at the center of each flower.
Each flower is a hand's span
of her whiteness. Wherever
his hand has lain there is
a tiny purple blossom under his touch
to which the fibres of her being
stem one by one, each to its end,
until the whole field is a
white desire, empty, a single stem,
a cluster, flower by flower,
a pious wish to whiteness gone over--
or nothing.
poem by William Carlos Williams
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Sensations
Am I wrong to suppose
you’ve yet to experience
the fresh morning dew
between your toes.
The attempt to retain
a handful of sand,
but with no success,
lose every grain.
Recognising a smell
that triggers a memory
to a time in your life
you remember well.
After several years
of not seeing a friend
They enter your thoughts,
then suddenly appear.
Your last breath is near
and you’re about to die.
A twist of fate ensured
you had nothing to fear.
A life changing happening
that unexplainably overwhelms,
you body and soul,
with a euphoric feeling.
poem by Orlando Belo
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Bright Buckets
Bright buckets bulge with sand and shells today,
brimmed by children busily at play,
intent on building, digging time away
upon the beach, sand castles they inlay
with scalloped decorations castaway
by last tide’s currents, scattered anyway
along the tattered margin of the bay.
A tiny grain of sand was yesterday
caught up within the complex interplay
of forces ‘yond our ken which ever weigh
upon the stream of consciousness to sway
more than a moment’s notice in their way
regardless of the influences they
appear to have upon our day to day.
Our meditations led far, far away
to rock formations which Time’s Go games play
until the grain by wind or water spray
from bedrock blown, is worn down, dust or clay,
key silent witness to life’s chaos fray.
What change of scene, and what has been, what may
yet be that grain stands witness to Time’s stay...?
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Just When.......
Just when you thought you had reached the top
Just when you thought the end was near
Just when you hear that beating heart
The one that is always near
Just when you see the finishing line
In the corner of your eye
Just when you think it's time to meet
It's time to say goodbye
Just when you can call a truce
Just when you can let it loose
Just when you can understand
Just when will you hold my hand?
The castles blowing in the wind
The sand flows grain by grain
Just when will you realise
The shadow that's in pain
The shadow meaning you
The sand meaning me
If only you will let me help
I'm here for you
You'll see
poem by Lucy Vernezze
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Women Sometimes
women sometimes
are a handful, a breastful,
a body beautiful,
you think they are so easy
to handle,
cutie pie, sweetie pie,
pity pie?
sure. they're a handful
of pretty pretty breastful
pretty, pretty petty bodies..
fondle, coddle, and
lots of doodles...
but oh, without them,
what will this world of mine be?
a desert. a dry pond.
a well without water.
drought the whole year round.
cracking lips.
labyrinths without an exit.
tunnels without light.
dogs without a master.
birds unfed and dead.
skulls without a skin.
bones without flesh.
blood without veins.
nails without fingers.
pen without a paper.
milk without water.
bed without blankets and pillows.
hands without fingers.
face without eyes.
and so on and so forth.
let me have them all
in my crowded room.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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No One Demands
... that there must be respect
to the wings of a fly, a mere fly
on top of a garbage
from your kitchen,
that there must be respect
to a leaf of a mahogany
on a permission to take it
away from a twig,
that there must be respect
for the handful of water that
you drink from the river,
that there must be respect
for the porcupine fish
from the bottom of the sea
even if it's form be
hateful,
the air is sacred
the sea is sacred
the tree is sacred
like every man, every baby,
every eye
every hand
the spider is sacred
and so is the carabao
resting in the mud hole
after a hard day's toil
every carapace
an empty shell
every grain of sand
belongs to no one
respect and live
on the blessings
of Mother Earth.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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