Many Still Question...
many still question
loneliness,
tracing the roots
and thinking about possible cures
i have aged
my hair has turned grey
58%
and i don't ask anymore
it is a tree
and there are so many fruits
to gather
and satisfy our
hunger and thirst
with them
ripe for the picking
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Tree Without Fruits
the way they handle
a tree without fruits is
crazy
it is as though
the leaves do not matter anymore
or the roots
or even the wood itself
or the living rings
within
that tell about
a certain
age
they are thinking about
a fire
they are cruel
and i think they deserve
to be
burned in hell
the value of the tree
is not just its fruits
mind you
trees also present memories
of their own
their roots too have
beautiful stories to tell
their twigs and lentils
too have dreams
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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For Those Who Grieve
no one
no one can really stop you
from eating the bark of the tree
the thick skin of the
fruit
no one can tell you what should have
been proper
or better
you like the skin and you throw away
the fruit that could have
satisfied your
thirst and hunger
the bark has poisoned you
the moon has warned you too well
the worm is wriggling
its frail and elongated
body
you have no ears
your sense of smell so badly damaged
and now you
are dying
no one tells you that life is as sweet
as the ripe fruit of the tree
that luscious flesh that flowing
juice
your gaze is sharp as a knife
stabbing even the
sun
and you are always right
what you have been searching
that can satisfy your hunger and thirst
is not found on the fruit
not even in the tree
it is in the poisonous bark
that useless skin
that silly coat
definitely it is not even here
where we are all grieving
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Harmony
when the guava tree
showed leaves
we waited for time
for it to give flowers
and then it came
we waited till it
bore fruits and then
the fruits ripened
we waited till all the
ripe ones fell to the
ground
then our hands picked
them all up
and we ate the juicy
sweet pulp and then
we spit out the seeds
to the ground
we swallowed what
fills our thirst and hunger
and the world
smiled
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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An uncreative medicine
no hope
no friend
no family
no home
no nativity
no nationality
no fame
no name
no future
no points
no market
no identity
no possessions still a tree without roots
no relationship still a tree without roots
no anarchism still a tree without roots
no hiearchy still a tree without roots
no country still a tree without roots
no colours still a tree without roots
no degrees still a tree without roots
no certificates
no imaginations
no dream
no poetry
no fiction
no story
no news
no media
no happiness still a tree without roots
no genre still a tree without roots
no labels still a tree without roots
no names still a tree without roots
THE FOURTH EYE
of
A post-conceptual poet.
The Good Tree
the good tree
bears a lot of fruits
and when it is time
for the picking
of the ripe ones
there are no questions
of who you are
and what do you deserve
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Phenomenology Of Giving
when you give you give because your heart likes it
your abundance flows from a container filled with so much
you give because having so much is also painful
the tree with many fruits too ripe for the season
gives them all away to the ground
the passers-by shall pick them
and have their thirst and hunger satisfied
the tree gives because there is no more reason for holding
the stalk gives up the weight that it is carrying
the tree has to shed leaves for another cycle
when the picker comes, the tree does not ask who is it
or for the reason why, whether it deserves it
it merely lets go every fruit
lest it be its own burden
for in truth giving away is also a form of relief
a cure of our maladies for greed,
a way of unloading our guilt
a way of erasing our avarice,
the final end to our disgrace.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Fruits Of The Tree
What fruits we have!
Glittering with evil,
To shed innocent blood,
Shining with greed,
And we end in comfort that lasts only a moment
What fruits we bare!
Lost in ambition and passion
That we preach prosperity and success
As if they last an eternity
Swelling with pride that lasts a stint
Fruits of the tree
That the master has planted.
They can choose to ripen, or to stay raw!
They can choose to rot, or to stay ripe!
But, every fruit stands the test of time.
In the end, Ripe with truth and love,
Victory is imminent.
Rotten with deception and hatred,
Destruction waits:
The fruits from the tree of life
poem by Timothy muggaga
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God cares for all Creatures
The guava sapling planted has grown big;
The tree is laden with ripe fruits many;
How many can I pluck or eat each day?
Lie fruits unseen at heights, I cannot reach.
I see the parrots enjoy tasty fruits;
I see the squirrels gnaw the fine ripe ones;
I see bats with voracious appetites;
And many more fall down by force of winds.
God fills the tree with fruits for each season;
Man cannot eat all fruits the tree can bear;
God feeds each bird of the air with care;
He made them all and that’s the chief reason.
When God can feed His other creatures well,
So many human beings starve to death;
Oh, what a man-made tragedy, we see,
As tons of food goes rotten every day!
God loves all human beings even more
Than all His other creatures whom He made;
Both food and drink turn scarce by acts of men;
Why blame God for our misdemeanor, then?
Copyright by Dr John Celes 4-3-2008
poem by John Celes
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Following No Rules
...is like going towards a house
on a mountaintop
the trees there have
ripe fruits for the picking
lots of jack
fruits spreading a map
of smell
and you focus your gaze
and you do not know
which way
you follow a scent
a view
and you bow down
to a thick grass
finding your way in there
you are not lost
you are tired
the house is still there
the fruits are about to fall
no one has gone there yet
in your wild
imagination
a native tells you frankly
sir, it is only the top of the mountain
nothing more
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Aged tree
Under the aged tree
Where we use to sing
Who is in the garden
The tree of my forefather
The unforgettable aged tree
Under the aged tree
Where we listen
To the story of our land
The dove and the jackal
An unforgettable story
Under the aged tree
Where my forefathers
Wept for freedom till death
May there soul rest in peace
And may the story of the aged tree lives in me
poem by Towobola pelumi miktobz
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Nobody Dies Of Hunger
i have not heard
of someone
die of hunger, man always knows how to live
not by bread alone
he also knows how to steal a loaf of bread
and there is no more
prison term for
a loaf so to speak
for society knows
the worth of a loaf and
judges know
the justifications for
hunger,
rice, fish, bread, water,
morsels,
dog food, all these, satisfy hunger
but really
i think more have died not of hunger
but of fear
and yes, i agree with you
loneliness also kills
so which is which
that kills you
the fear of being
alone
and being alone and
lonely
strictly speaking, fear and loneliness
are two distinct
feelings, one is still to come
and by
a very long distance
it hits you right
in the head
and then
you fall like you were executed by nobody, no one,
except
by an empty space,
a false bullet shot by this badge of fraud,
extreme loneliness
the murderer again
whose name
is no one but yourself
what a pity!
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Tree Of Life
tree of life
tree of love
tree from god up above
this tree was implanted in our hearts at birth
to enjoy life and all its worth.
this tree posses all the love we hold
and controls our very soul.
the tree branches spread wide
to touch all of mankind
filling your bodies from hunger and quenching
the thirst within your soul
a wonderous beauty to behold.
the tree of life
gods sight
gods might
i give you my love
you give me your prayers
eternal life we will share
you in me-and me in you
this is what we have to do.
spreading the fruits of the tree
to all mankind, and of love divine.
poem by Louis Rams
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Raise Your Head Fearlessly Above Shade!
Look at the Nature around,
whether trees and plants know or not,
Their roots surly know,
water that quench their thirst,
where they can find minerals for growth,
Are in this soil and in the Nature!
Animals live in nature's garden,
birds and butterfly,
Know where they can be happy!
O man, know for sure
tender plants with tender roots,
Need shade and care,
no tree can grow under shade of another tree,
Come out of shades and shadows,
Once roots become firm,
once you absorb essence wanted,
Raise your head fearlessly above shades,
Breath the fresh air Rain and sunshine,
feel the heat and cold to become free,
The potential is there in you,
Open the packet of reasoning and wisdom,
Never bury it,
What Almighty had embedded in your heart!
The fountain of infinite bliss is within you,
Never thereafter you feel thirsty,
More you can share the fruits,
With that sweet knowledge,
Whoever thirsty can sip it till his own roots grow,
You are done,
you have done!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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Prosperity and poverty
Hunger for food has been met;
Hunger for love has set in.
Hunger for power has been met;
Hunger for ethics has set in.
Hunger for lust has been met;
Hunger for faith has set in.
Thirst for knowledge has been met;
Thirst for innocence has set in.
Thirst for contacts has been met;
Thirst for concerns has set in.
Thirst for comfort has been met;
Thirst for compassion has set in.
Love, ethics, faith lost,
Innocence, concerns and compassion missing,
Despite food, power and lust,
Despite knowledge, comfort and compassion,
The soul will die a slow death
Long before the body succumbs.
The world will not die of poverty
But it will sure die of prosperity.
25.07.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Leaves Turning Grey
Like a carcass lays, an ancient tree,
he tried to pray, through celestial seas,
but his spirit flew just like a bee.
Everyday he gazed at crying clouds,
the wind through his branches was so loud.
He looked for listening ears
as he stood in a sea of tears.
O tree, do you still wade?
Why have you lost your will to change?
O tree, leaves turning grey,
your roots have lost their range.
But how can one ask for help,
when you're not helping yourself?
And so this tree founded on sand,
with the wind tumbled to land.
He's an arboreal fool,
in a world that pulls
his heart and blood apart.
O tree, you've lost your blood,
your dead branches lay in the mud.
O tree, leaves turning grey,
your roots in such ground won't stay.
poem by Soren Valentine
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The Riddles
stay:
some words still dance inside your ear
they like it there
departure:
some fruits are ripe for the picking
but you are not there
they are falling even without the wind
go:
how do you interpret my silence?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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My vanity
When you see the grey in my hair
will you remember the black that was there?
Or will you forget and just see grey
that forms at the roots on everyday?
I used to wear it long and flowing
and preen about how it was growing.
I used a hair brush and counted the strokes,
but that's a waste of time for older folks.
Vanity's been replaced by common sense
although I say in my defense
that if I could I'd still like to see
that shiny lustre of ebony.
Beauty is burdensome anyway
and eventually I'll accept being grey.
But not just yet, maybe next year.
Alas by then more grey will appear.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Sonnet: Nature Resurrects
The ‘curry-leaf’ tree bears berries again!
The black fruits look enticing, succulent;
And more will ripen with the August-rain,
A feast to the spotted-grey bird, God-sent.
The guava-trees are full of flow’rs and fruits!
They ripen fast each morn to squirrel’s squeak;
The landscape will have ripe fruits like a ‘Blitz, ’
Which many birds will then happily beak.
The rain can do such magic to the lands;
It resurrects the almost dead, dry trees;
Some fairies good are working with their wands!
The fauna seems as busy as the bees.
Thus, Nature sprinkles compassion on all!
Her heart melts to each creature’s plaintive call.
8-9-2002
poem by John Celes
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We Trace Our Roots
there are ways of tracing our roots
where we come from
why we are here
how our forefathers braved
the seas and survived the big waves
of uncertainties
the cold, dark nights of their fears
how they all believed in dreams
how they trusted the direction given by the stars
how they solidified their hearts
with faith and hope
and love
as i listen to all of you talk about the stories
of our ancestors
my mind begins to to grow and travel
like roots
deep down the earth
tracing some humus
where i must live again
perhaps ever braver than the pioneers
they are our ancestors
and i think, they still believe that since we come from them
we must all be like them,
my dear cousin, now we have become the roots ourselves
and another child shall come
in the future
and listen some more, wanting to become branches and leaves and flowers
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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In Silence No More
Aged 1
Aged 2
Aged 3
Aged 4
At 5 my life changed forever more,
Aged 6
Aged 7
Aged 8
Aged 9
By 10 he’d touched me a thousand times,
Aged 41
42
43
44
But now I’m not suffering in silence,
In silence anymore,
For now I’m chatting and talking,
Not crawling I’m walking,
Even though he’s still stalking,
I’m not suffering in silence,
Suffering in silence,
I’m not suffering in silence,
In silence no more.
poem by Darren Harris
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