Meanings...
scattered
practically (hmm probably)
thoughts are
like dry, yellow, leaves
already unsure
from which twig did it
come from
no one asks about
the history of a leaf
no one
there are too many of them
meant either to be
blown away, buried upon their
own kind,
layer upon layer,
rotting upon one another
or simply just to be burned
heaps of them
turning into smoke
phantoms against
the rains of
dark skies
we are leaves
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
Everyday I Feel That I Am Slowly Buried
i try to wake up and rise from my lowly state
and every hour that you face me i feel like a small turtle
in my silence beside the still river and you speak and explain
and argue like the wind and the leaves and the clouds
everyday when i am with you i feel like am being buried everyday
layer and layer of sand and pebbles and stones and twigs
and branches and heaps of leaves
i am losing my art of breathing and i am beginning to accept the fact
that you have the capacity to lose me
the world shrinks and the river becomes deeper
the view around me is crowded and dark and i look for you
i call for you and you are no longer there
sometimes i need to redefine love when companionship loses the grip
of hands.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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My Silence Shall Be
i find this in the forest of trees
long trees, shady, such that what you can see
are only shadows of leaves
and what you hear is only the sound of the wind
choked between tight walls,
this is my silence,
moist, and soft, between a growth of wild
ferns
rotten leaves heaps and heaps of
rotten leaves
layer after layer of rotten leaves
thick and pushed still to the roots
smashed to the ground
some seeds from the oaks
or maybe from the flowers of the orchids
or some sweet fruits and red berries fall
in there
and they begin to grow
rich as humus is this soil down
the darkness of this forest,
this is my silence
deep inside me
moist, rotten, but soon
lots shall grow
seeds turning into sprouts
to trees again
perhaps taller than ever
some fruits so sweet and colored and shiny
some flowers scented and so lovely,
this my silence
shall be, i am keeping it for years
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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84
my silence shall be
i find this in the forest of trees
long trees, shady, such that what you can see
are only shadows of leaves
and what you hear is only the sound of the wind
choked between tight walls,
this is my silence,
moist, and soft, between a growth of wild
ferns
rotten leaves heaps and heaps of
rotten leaves
layer after layer of rotten leaves
thick and pushed still to the roots
smashed to the ground
some seeds from the oaks
or maybe from the flowers of the orchids
or some sweet fruits and red berries fall
in there
and they begin to grow
rich as humus is this soil down
the darkness of this forest,
this is my silence
deep inside me
moist, rotten, but soon
lots shall grow
seeds turning into sprouts
to trees again
perhaps taller than ever
some fruits so sweet and colored and shiny
some flowers scented and so lovely,
this my silence
shall be, i am keeping it for years
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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what do we do to Mother Earth?
do not burn
let the leaves fall to the ground
let them stay there
layer by layer
heap upon heap
let mother earth
hug all the leaves
let the affection be
strong and heavy
let the leaves die
and rot and become
water and become dust
to dust
let all of us see this dust
we shall do what mother earth
and nature loves best
to dust we shall return
and be its permanent part
close to the bosom
of mother earth
forever
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Seeing a Clearer Me
layer by layer
i peel so that
like a glass
you can view me
crystal clear as a virgin river
a polished diamond
decades of
practice for those
seasoned fingers
to strike at her core
to bring out those few
beethoven scores
he tuned up the world for
a great watch maker
filing his cog to tighten time
the precision of mind
to keep a universal lie at bay
verse by verse
layer by layer
i peel to get to
the sheen the almighty
laid hidden in me
layer by layer
i peel off the world
to see a clearer me
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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One difference between God's work and man's is, that, while God's work cannot mean more than he meant, man's must mean more than he meant. For in everything that God has made, there is layer upon layer of ascending significance; also he expresses the same thought in higher and higher kinds of that thought: it is God's things, his embodied thoughts, which alone a man has to use, modified and adapted to his own purposes, for the expression of his thoughts; therefore he cannot help his words and figures falling into such combinations in the mind of another as he had himself not foreseen, so many are the thoughts allied to every other thought, so many are the relations involved in every figure, so many the facts hinted in every symbol. A man may well himself discover truth in what he wrote; for he was dealing all the time with things that came from thoughts beyond his own.
quote by George MacDonald
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Faces and layers of faces
At first, this is the face I will show you
Shallow, thin, smooth
Then we feel each other, like some kind of
New found friends, I
Take another layer, and tell you, this is my face,
Some scars, and lines of age, and furrows,
Then we write many emails, and remember
Common things, like a certain familiarity,
Another layer is taken and exposed,
The face of a sick man, with some
Disappointments in his mind,
Some wounds, wrinkles, and so you
Think, are there other layers of faces still
To show,
Deeper, deeper is there another layer to show
Another face of this man?
Yes, there is another layer, more faces
Hidden underneath each layer,
As we go on, learning from ourselves,
And me learning from myself,
I will be digging for more faces,
Because I am never static
I am growing, and for each growth
Like molting
Another face comes out
Soon, I hope, I must come out
With the most beautiful face
The we can be both proud of,
It is just a matter of time
Depending on how well you have loved me.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Thirteen
At first, this is the face I will show you
Shallow, thin, smooth
Then we feel each other, like some kind of
New found friends, I
Take another layer, and tell you, this is my face,
Some scars, and lines of age, and furrows,
Then we write many emails, and remember
Common things, like a certain familiarity,
Another layer is taken and exposed,
The face of a sick man, with some
Disappointments in his mind,
Some wounds, wrinkles, and so you
Think, are there other layers of faces still
To show,
Deeper, deeper is there another layer to show
Another face of this man?
Yes, there is another layer, more faces
Hidden underneath each layer,
As we go on, learning from ourselves,
And me learning from myself,
I will be digging for more faces,
Because I am never static
I am growing, and for each growth
Like molting
Another face comes out
Soon, I hope, I must come out
With the most beautiful face
The we can be both proud of,
It is just a matter of time
Depending on how well you have loved me
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Turbulence
layer upon layer
pounding out
justification,
charged and ready to strike,
cold winds blow,
bright rains ache
ready to flow.
poem by Steven Federle
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At The Core Of My Being
a cake with white
icing, some sugar
red roses and
confectioner leaves
of green around
the chocolate cake
layer upon layer
to give an impression
of fullness and
solidity,
at the core is the
softness of air bubbles
trapped within,
something is empty
so soft, something like
a void unaffected still
by heat and time.
that is what i am
and i love it.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Time and Leaves and Heaps
time runs
leaves fall
the ground is filled with heaps and heaps of them
the world too
is thickened by the leaves of time
heaps and heaps of what man once was
we bury all of them
time
leaves
heaps of leaves
so many times
we fall too like leaves
the world is thick of those like us
fair enough.
fair enough.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Mountain Of Malady
in the mountain of malady
the sharp fingernails of probity
on the hands of faith
dig the wells of whereto
time as usual is so patient
no stone is left unturned
layer by layer of fossilized moments
upturned and the quizzical look of
mercy continues to please
the stabs of light sometimes
hurt like murderous intent
but the quest has to continue
we all look for what is inside this
centuries of mysteries
time is cold. trees are felled.
it rains all night. the winds are angry.
at the bottom of it all beyond the thick layer
of lust and desire,
pain and betrayal, shame and fall?
what did you really find?
chunks of golden silence. platinum gaze.
diamond existence.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Autumn Leaves
The autumn leaves swirl to the ground in their millions.
Gold, russet, ochre, burnt umber, and deep vermillion.
Down to the ground, the dying leaves flit and flutter;
On to the grassy bank, the pathway, and into the gutter.
Some of the colours of the leaves are deep and so very rich.
Whirling along the ground, some leaves tumble into the ditch.
A thick layer of multicoloured leaves now carpets the earth,
Leaving the trees bare, in readiness, for next spring’s rebirth.
With changing leaf colours, many people love this time of year,
But, that summer is well and truly over, it is now perfectly clear.
The many colours mixed together are a magical sight to behold;
I love the shades of yellow, crimson, sienna, and ruby red, so bold.
Some leaves are mottled, with two glorious colours or more;
Adding to the fabulous display, which now lies upon the floor.
Children love nothing better, than to frolic through the fallen leaves;
When workmen collect them up, they’re left feeling very aggrieved.
Even though the weather is getting cold, the colours look so warm.
Fiery reds and oranges, and golden hues, like those of ripened corn.
Photographers find this time of year, so very evocative and inspiring;
The spectacular displays before them, they spend much time admiring.
As the season draws on, the once vibrant colours begin to dull and fade.
Soon, all that is left are brown leaves, which once boasted brilliant shades.
When leaves first change their colour, they create much admired foliage,
But with age and weather, over the coming weeks, there is much spoilage.
I love the dark green leaves, with their edges tinged with a brilliant red.
But, alas, those colours will fade, now that the leaf is no longer being fed.
The crisp, bright colours can offer cheer on even the very dullest of days,
But in our minds, we know it won’t be long before winter comes our way.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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N4
my theory lives thru
as you have said it: these are all lies
lies and more lies
and you know them all to be lies,
but as you said it,
you begin to understand the truth
beneath these lies
a layer of grass
another layer of flowers
another layer of clouds
beneath is the niche
burying the nuggets of
my own wisdom, how i live my life
and justify it later
before God, shall all lies be
truths
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Mark The Days
It doesnt matter what you say
Thoughts are scattered, all blown away
Fruits of love are gone
Listen to this womans only song
Shes down on her knees
Kicking her heels
A fallen angel out of love
It doesnt matter what you say
Thoughts are scattered and blown away
It doesnt matter what you say
Thoughts are scattered and blown away
You have the key of the door
Swept under the carpet
Dont want it anymore
Discovery of infidelity
Falling from grace
Sacrifice the substance
Mark the days
Hear this womans song
Forever betrayed
In secret we know its not her own
Staring from mirror to mirror
No ones coming home
It doesnt matter what you say
Thoughts are scattered and blown away
It doesnt matter what you say
Thoughts are scattered and blown away
Away
song performed by by Xymox
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Disposable Syringes
Disposable syringes are used once,
Injected into the veins
Through which diseased blood runs,
Then they are discarded for ever,
The users throw them into the waste-baskets
And then they are further disposed of
Lest one should come into contact
And find himself infected,
So they are buried deep beneath the layer of earth.
Our leaders are the disposable syringes,
They are used once by pioneers of the world,
To protect their interests, to get them a reach
To sources of the soil, minerals and oil,
Then they are thrown, discarded,
Either murdered, or hanged,
And buried deep beneath the layer of time.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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scatter layer
by layer, eight-layered
cherry blossoms!
haiku by Masaoki Shiki
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Life is like an onion: you peel off layer after layer and then you find there is nothing in it.
quote by James Huneker
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Her Kiss
He steers hurriedly the hardened handlebar
The light dims out in a cozy red chamber
A door of dreams opens with a moan ajar
A want of breeze lays layer upon layer.
Her dress is colorful but simple and modest
Her jasper hair falls on her white shoulders
He enters her cave beneath the jade forest
An old book on the shelf silently moulders.
Her skin is velvety silk, delicate and smooth
Her eyes brightly glisten, the pearls of Atlantis
One cannot find such jewels in any booth,
Her breasts pomegranates, sweeter than raisins.
Forgive me, he says, for not kissing your mouth
And she smiles and agrees yet somewhat amiss
Then he moves to the door turning to the south
But before he leaves she kisses him on the lips.
poem by Paul Hartal
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Onion Skin Disguise
Layer after layer to peel off
Issues, that no longer serve
“No not I”….you may scoff
Then get what you deserve
ROTMS
poem by Ray Lucero
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