Mother And Daughter
tonight i have a good image
when mom and daughter finally meet at the airport
somewhere in Chicago
she brings her favorite goodies
from the Philippines islands
once a year, once again
the bonding begins
she teaches her what happiness brings
she tells her stories about what missing is all about
she is taken back to all those years of her youth
she edifies her goddess of love
inside the house the talking of their own language
can be heard as a chatter of two strange birds
outside it is snowing
inside the fire begins to burn
and the young children watch them
awed, amazed, delighted, so delighted.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Persona
this person
comes to the house
rings the bell
and opens the door
there is nudity on the face
that i see
something inside me boils
because there is fire
at my bottom
then this person tells me
something
that i already know
something light and does not
bother me (I think so)
there is nudity in the body
and when this person turns
so i can see the back
of the body
what i see are two dimples
that tonight bother me
i am struck
i am stirred
the potion finally works inside me
i am not in love
how can i ever be in love again
i am lustful
seeing those two dimples at the back
that leave me
awed at the beauty of the flesh
this sin this greed
unsaturated.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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My Sister's Birthday
We watch as toddlers
run squealing through the house,
laughter bounding through bright halls,
a knee-level storm of pure joy.
They punctuate our grown-up conversation
as the slide-show begins.
Now you’re the bright eyed infant!
Mom was so young and pretty
Holding you close
in her strong, gleaming arms,
as the cousins, delighted, cry
“Look! Grandma’s a baby! ”
In wonder we watch
the years of youth and school
love and weddings
and bright new babies,
pause on the haunting eyes
of those gentle people
whom we’ve loved
then lost
to the good night.
As your party continues,
I see in the eyes
of four generations,
a century’s worth
of smiling for the camera
a cloud of love
transcending both years and death.
So don’t worry about your age, dear sister.
clearly
we never really grow old.
poem by Steven Federle
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Strange laughter
Strange laughter brings tears to my eyes
The tear is also strange
Burn my eyes and ignite the fire inside me
My soul is at war with my body
She want freedom
And my body is asked her to stay
My heart is conversing with the other
Where is my love? Where are you?
Questions like a bullets through my chest
A time is come and it's separation
I still laugh
Strange laughter brings tears to my eyes
poem by Mohammed AlBalushi
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Thanks For Christmas
Thanks for christmas,
Thank you for the love and happiness thats snowing down,
All around.
Thanks for christmas,
Thank you for the winter friendliness thats snowing down,
All around the world.
Its nearer,
Childrens eyes shine clearer now,
As they decorate the trees,
All across the seven seas.
Its nearer,
Yule log fires burn clearer now,
In the winters frosty air,
Sing with us and we can share our...
Thanks for christmas,
Thank you for the love and happiness thats snowing down,
All around.
Thanks for christmas,
Thank you for the winter friendliness thats snowing down,
All around the world.
Its dawning,
Santas reindeer yawning now,
All their festive work is done,
Filling houses up with fun.
Its dawning,
Here is christmas morning now,
Greatest day of all the year,
Listen out and you will hear our...
Thanks for christmas,
Thank you for the love and happiness thats snowing down,
All around.
Thanks for christmas,
Thank you for the winter friendliness thats snowing down,
All around the world.
Its such a shame its only one day every year,
Three hundred and sixty-four days full of doubts and fear
Youve been saving your love up,
Let it out,
cause christmas is here.
Thanks for christmas,
Thank you for the love and happiness thats snowing down,
All around.
Thanks for christmas,
Thank you for the winter friendliness thats snowing down,
All around the world.
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dad, Papa, Frank
Hey dad, it's your daughter Sandy, yes your favorite one of the three
You'd say Sandy, I love all of my daughters the same, then you'd smile and wink at me
Just kidding Kristi and Donna, don't have a cow, dad loved you too
But secretly I'd be saying inside, I am the favorite, you know it's true
I guess my sense of humor came from a man who's name was Frank, Papa, or Dad
A better man you could never know, I've never seen a person leave his house sad
He had one of those laughs they call contagious, if he was laughing you would laugh too
Oh how I would give anything just to hear it one more time, a more beautiful sound I never knew
It's been almost a year that you've been gone now dad, the worst year of my life
I know its not been easy for you either, especially missing Sue, , my mom, and your wife
You always used to tell me, it's gonna be really hard for your mother when I die
And the only reason you were scared to die was you didnt want to see mom cry
She misses you dad, but we both know, mom is one of the strongest woman you could ever meet
Through the years you've both crossed many obstacles, but never once not landed on your feet
You would make up these crazy stories, all of kids would know they weren't true
Then mom would agree with whatever you said, cause you would say it's true, 'Isn't that right Sue? '
You weren't just moms husband, you were both each others best friend
And through all the rough roads you both crossed together, your love didn't waiver or bend
Dad before I end this little poem, could you do me a favor before you go?
Tell mom the one thing she needs to hear from you, the one thing she needs to know
Sue I know you are carrying this guilt around, thinking I could have had a better life
But your wrong Sue, my life was perfect, how could it not have been with you as my wife
Mom, I know dad isn't here to say those words, but believe me those words come from him not me
At least a million times I've heard him say, ya know your mother is the best thing that's ever happened to me
Dedicated to my dad, Francis Xavier Breault.
poem by Sandy Brady Breault
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Last Lullaby
As sweet angels mutter last lullaby,
The last lonely child begins to cry,
And the widow hides her hurt inside,
As the violin brings treason to try.
And I stare in to these bambi eyes,
The children, of such sweet defy,
And the women stand, side by side,
As the world pulls to an end.
Goodbye, last lullaby,
I sing my children to sleep.
For the image of such steep destruct,
May burn the mind, so sweet.
The destination, almost reached,
As the last of my children fall asleep,
Tis the end of forever, eternity, despair,
Far upon inner suicide,
A demons watchful stare.
The world stands still,
And we stand tall,
Lash closes to the pale,
Tis the end,
The end of all.
poem by Dayna Mortimore
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The Lose Of Love
The life after ending love is like deserted home,
The love is my happy home that my soul lives in
But when the love is gone
Inside me the warm feeling of the love
Remains the memory of gone love every while and while
And fades away at once
But in vain all this pain
While the love is dead
Falling in love brings us to life
We begin to see things like never were there before
All the beauties come to life with love
The birds voices begins to appear
Ah, what a wonderful feeling
While all the past wounds disappears at once
Everywhere is colored blue with green
he soul wears the peace
The laughter comes from deeper inside our hearts
without any whys just because the soul is in love
Ah, nothing left there
Oh, the love is gone its cold winter time
Here inside, , ,
Inside my soul
The poor memories of lost love revives every while and while and ends at once with the dawn.
poem by Sossi Khachadourian
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Inside my happiness...
Inside my happiness, there is nothing but happiness for me.
Inside my happiness, the colors are so bright and vivid and I am able to see everything clearly.
Inside my happiness, there were no dark times because in my happiness the sun always shines.
Inside my happiness, there is no pain, there is no fear and there certainly is no doubt.
Inside my happiness, we all live as one and there is peace for all beings.
Inside my happiness, there is God and he has planned all of this for me.
Inside my happiness, addiction never happend.
Inside my happiness, there are no sorrows and no tears for the hurt doesnt exist.
Inside my happiness, there is you, and you are everything.
Inside my happiness, there is a woman who is ready for life.
Inside my happiness, there is nothing but happiness for me.
poem by Amber Swiney
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Curious
Welcome to the great unknown
Take a journey into the O zone
Feed your fire, feel the burn
And I'm learning the thing that you learn
Let's play the game
And I'm sure that you'll be so glad that you came
You never know till you let go
And discover your potential
There's nothing wrong with being curious
Adventurous
Step out of your mind
If something inside makes you curious
Then free it up
Initiation begins
When you jump right in
This is the end, let's begin
Lose your fear like you're shedding your skin
Nothing's lost when all is won
So I'm do all the things that you done
Feel the sound
And try to write a simple rhyme of spinning round
Before I leave, you ought to know
The more you scream, the faster that you go
There's nothing wrong with being curious
Adventurous
Step out of your mind
If something inside makes you curious
Then free it up
Initiation begins
Free up your inside
You're gonna like what you will find
You're never gonna know until you try
There's nothing wrong with being curious
Adventurous
Step out of your mind
If something inside makes you curious
Then free it up
Initiation begins
There's nothing wrong with being curious
Adventurous
Step out of your mind
If something inside makes you curious
Then free it up
Initiation begins
When you jump right in
There's nothing wrong with being curious
Adventurous
Step out of your mind
If something inside makes you curious
Then free it up
Initiation begins
When you jump right in
song performed by by Holly Valance
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Charity
Charity begins at home,
Love begins in the womb,
Hope is the mind that lives at peace always.
The bud opens,
The flower blossoms,
Charity envies not;
So, let no man despise your youth and beauty.
A kiss of charity,
Like a true proverb;
Charity out of a pure heart is full of kindness.
When the Almond Tree blossoms,
Charity is full of love;
So is this muse that flows to teach many.
Let all your things be done with charity,
Charity is very kind;
Let all your dreams be with love,
Charity edifies;
And, be very wise always.
Do not let charity pass you by,
Gain your hope from your gift;
Cos', it will always lead you on.
Charity begins at home,
So compare her actions rooted in your yard;
Charity out of a pure heart is full of kindness,
So compare her acts ruling in the year;
Charity envies no one.
The love of a muse,
The love of the acts;
Charity begins at home.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Inside my happiness
Inside my happiness, there is nothing
But happiness for me
Inside my happiness, the colours are
So bright and vivid and i am able
To see everything clearly
Inside my happiness, there was no
Dark times because in my happiness
The sun always shines
Inside my happiness, there is no
Pain, there is no fear
And there is certainly no doubt
Inside my happiness, we all live as
One and there is peace
For all beings
Inside my happiness, addiction never happened
Inside my happiness, there are no sorrows
And no tears, so the hurt doesn’t exist
Inside my happiness, there is god
And he planned all this for me
Inside my happiness, there is nothing
But happiness for me
poem by Maryam Kazmi
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The Clan Meeting
we were inside a circle
talking about the past
the years have made us
forget what our old folks taught us
there is always a time for
nothing but free talk until
some of you begins to cajole
and flatter and i begin to see
dogs and foxes around the table
some shall act as temporary prey
lots of words to seduce and entice
but here we are we are no longer
innocent children and we are no longer
giving and as compassionate as those
war times that give birth to mercy
we are numb as stone with unpredictable
thoughts inside our bodies crawling like
snakes so wary about the next prey
no one loses neither anybody wins in this
game of lies and then i look at my watch
it is 4: 30 in the afternoon and i really have
to go
i have a sunset to watch
another orange picture to take.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Strange But True 1 - The Burning House
There were four of us in the garden,
which overlooked a valley below.
The sunset was moving across the sky,
as the songs of twilight could be heard,
then a siren made us look around.
There below us within a grove of trees,
a spiral of smoke rose to meet the sky.
The house within the grove was burning fiercely;
its glow could be seen by us on higher ground,
but not by those on the lower ground.
We sat and watch in fascination
as there was little we could do.
Because the house was well hidden from the road,
the fire department missed it too.
Eventually when they reached the house, t
he occupants had perished in the flames.
Therefore, begins the story
I have never been able to explain.
A year went by and the charred ruins remained.
Nothing was ever built on the spot
nor the ground ever reclaimed.
The only monument that was left there
was the charred black timber on the ground.
My friends and I were playing
as we usually did in the garden,
overlooking the valley below
when a silence seem to engulf us.
In the distance, the mournful wail of a siren
broke the stillness there.
Looking down into the valley
we were amazed at what we saw,
a spiral of smoke reaching to the sky
within the grove of trees where the house used to be
from a burning building that was no longer there,
exactly how we had witnessed it a year before.
For an hour, we watched fascinated,
until the images we saw began to fade.
Did it all play back for some Anniversary,
or were our minds jut playing tricks on us all?
The question still bothers me
over fifty years from that day.
I will never know the truth,
and the mystery will always stay a mystery.
poem by David Harris
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The Brown Out And The Brown Barking Dog
yes, the last poem was saved
from a sudden brownout and yes the brown dog did not stop barking
on the road lined with pruned indian trees where a stack of leaves
are left to dry
on a very hot noon day in my poor country
until the knock on the door is heard and finally the maid opens
the door to the stranger: your brother gone abroad
for work to save money for his six children
to feed and send to school and he brings you some gifts
toblerone chocolates
and californian red wine
hugs and hugs and warmth
and some stories to tell about the united states of america
chicago in particular
and las vegas at the end where one of your cousins made a good fortune
where some invitations are extended
where you may stay for three days and enjoy the casino and the
moving lights and some parties
the brown barking dog now lays peacefully by the door with big ears
listening to a conversation between brothers: one who likes to stay
forever in one place
and one who seeks his destiny somewhere else
some snacks no smoke no lies now just stories and
missing and a promise to be good
to offer prayers for our dead parents
mass tomorrow morning and a coming party for the relatives
little joys, bitter memories, some expectations and hopes for a better future
slice the cake and sip the soup
some thoughts that better be left inside our minds
silence and in between words that like to lurk
inside the walls of our mouths
what do you really expect from me? from what i write, well,
well, sometimes, there is nothing to say, except to tell you
the brown-out is still here, and i am working on a standby power
rushing with my lines
keeping with my word
to save my last poem, and it may not be the last after all
just finishing it
for you, trying to tell you that sometimes in our lives we say nothing on
purpose but just to be descriptive about what is happening
between us
no judgments, no choosing and telling which is wrong which is right
just watching and savoring ourselves and not commenting anymore
just living together sometimes even better with each other on some distance
so when we meet
we say we miss each other: just describing and watching and telling and
yes writing
using some other powers: the standby power till it is finally exhausted and gone
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Good Old Love
I am as tactless as a forest fire
The plains are burning and the elk run
The world crushes us all
Love seems hidden like a well
Yet love always can be found
When the fires burn
When the rain pours
Love brings back the flowers
The truth tells me to behave
And good old love forgives me
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Inside Out
Inside out, ooh you got me inside out
Oh inside out, oh inside out
Now everybody keeps on telling me how to be
And everybody tells me do what they say
Oh Ill help myself its up to me and no-one else
But till Im ready just keep out of my way
Inside out, ooh you got me inside out
Oh inside out, oh inside out
Now everybodys got me running round, up and down
And here I am going out of my mind
But I wont lose sight of all the, the things Im looking for
Theyre coming to me and Im taking whats mine
Inside out, ooh you got me inside out
Oh inside out, oh inside out
Ill play the game
Well make the same mistakes
Its all the same
If we can give and take
Hold on, hold on, ooh
Hold on, hold on, ooh
Inside out, ooh you got me inside out
Oh inside out, oh inside out
All of my life Ive been searching and hanging on
Turning a corner, never know what Id find
But now Im back again like I never went away
Ooh let me in Im through with wasting my time
Inside out, ooh you got me inside out
Oh inside out, oh inside out
Oh inside out, ooh you got me inside out
Oh inside out, oh inside out
song performed by by Phil Collins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Petite
I met this petite lady
she was still on her second year
of a nursing course
when her aunt retired as domestic helper
in bakau
she had to take over
the employer paid for her passport and documentation
she works there for two years
vacuuming carpets
washing dishes
dusting off walls and windows
taking care of a baby
and sometimes cooks for visitors
she is round
and will do everything just to earn
her money
and please her parents
back home
she is 25, too young to be a family bread
winner
and an export labor
a heroine for another
locally written novel
she has her boyfriend back in mandaue waiting
but he could not meet her at the airport
her parents do not want her to marry
the jobless
Pinoy
'home for good', she says when she bids us
goodbye
deep inside me
i wish her independence
i know that happiness
is too elusive
but anyway i wish her that
too
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Inside Out
OUTSIDE
is the laughter,
INSIDE
is same laughter
i am the same
inside out, but sometimes
OUTSIDE
the rain pours out like the tears of the widow
INSIDE
the heart copes up with the stillness of the pond without the fish.
OUTSIDE
the laughter subsides
INSIDE
the crying begins
when we meet
since i do not want to share my grief
I am no longer the same
INSIDE OUT.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Love Still Lingers
As shadows fall over everything
I sit in my old rocking chair
staring at our pictures
remembering our happy days
the summer of our youth
still brings back smiling memories
of the sweetheart waltzes
and the love you gave to me.
The things we did when we were young
the tokens of love we gave
are still alive in our memories
remaining with us day by day.
This is the prayer every couple say
as they meet on their wedding day
hoping they’ve found life’s happiness
that will see them one their way
Through the trials and tribulations
life throws at them each day
and their love will still linger
after years have come and gone
that they will still remember
the joys of their yesterdays
and pass them on to their children
that may come along the way
That their love still lingers
after heartaches and pain have gone
so long as they have each other
the world can do them no wrong.
poem by David Harris
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Darkness Hopes
In each of us lives darkness
black as coal and full of desire,
that lies dormant in the midnight
though it longs to feel a fire.
The fire brings great brightness
to the heart of the darkest dark;
as it dances with abandon
flirting madly as it sparks.
When the sparks flash in the darkness
the blackness feels the heat,
that's created by a passion
when light and darkness meet.
Once the darkness is ignited
white light burns deep inside,
emboldened by combustion
once begun, won't subside.
Though as the fire burns lower
and the light begins to dim,
embers glow with excitement
for what will come again.
The darkness is quite patient
as it quietly sits and waits,
for the fire to build inside again
and reconnect the fates.
You see, the darkness holds out the hope
for the passion of the light,
to dance again with abandon
to bring a fire, burning bright.
(September 10,2010)
poem by David L. Harkins
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