Mutuality....
i do not wish to go to your house
neither shall i wish you
to enter mine,
i never share this temple
to anyone,
in the same manner that you
are too careful with each
soft and tender
structures,
a roof of thoughts,
floors of values,
pillars of strength
windows that are not afraid of the rain
stairs that know what
majesty is there to carry
beams that hold
what we must be
till the end
of summer.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
Expectedly
houses are strong
and well insulated
in your
hinterland
but mine is on top
of the hill
kissed by the sun
it is open to the
air
they come and go
and come again
this is the house without
doors and stairs
a house deprived of
windows
and peeping holes
and cracks and
slits
this is the house of the
sun
the earth loves it
its body attached
to the grass
it has no pillars
but trees
no roof but clouds
no walls but spaces
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Followers Are Pillars
Pillars carry the roof.
The roof keeps them erect.
Pillars are happy
That they are connected,
Not minding their labour.
Followers are pillars.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Thank You For The Distance
i once told you
about the strong house
its pillars
are having distances
to support
the weight of the
roof and the
beams
like us now
our distance shall support
the weight
of dispositions
this house
this acquaintance shall
shelter
what memories we
have kept
the pillars are stable now
the house is not shaky
we leave it that way
we take chances somewhere
under the stars
outside the door
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A House Without Stairs
do not say
that without the stairs
the house is not a house anymore
without the ceiling
the more the house becomes to me
take the roof
if you want
or the beams
or even the floor and window frames
my house will still be a house
the sky its roof
the stretching grassy plain its floor
all the stars become
my magnificent ceiling
whatever is taken
we must imagine that all things are still there
lest we only have a house
that crashes on the floor
with all of us
dead
crushed to the death of
our imaginations
a door without an exit
because you have not seen hope coming
the lock and key
are all in the mind and heart
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Distance
distance is good sometimes
i remember standing on top of the hill
fog covers me
and yet i still see
the burning house on the plains
remember the two pillars of Khayyam
how they make a house that strong
to hold a world above a roof
of lime and beams?
we keep the reasons
of distances
to make ourselves closer
than the sea to its shore
so from here i am northbound
southbound please write me a letter.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Feeling Like A Stranger
in this place
this house without furnitures
all floors, this house with nothing but some stairs
and windows
you built it, i was away for years and we meet again
in this house
of acquaintances
devoid of affection, i have a way of telling what is this all about
by merely looking at the ceiling
there are no lights
to clarify me, who am i? in this house where i am not even a tree
or a vine
rootless, leafless
dying,
shall i continue living here?
i feel so unlike everyone else,
i am a total stranger
in this house that you built
this house devoid of affection,
i guess i have no choice
but to leave at once
otherwise, i too shall perish
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Pillars Of Our Society
see the pillars of our society.
the church, the provincial and municipal halls,
the university, the house of the family,
try to hold these pillars and feel their
strength and width, you think that they are
too strong to protect you
try piercing each pillar with the questions
deep from your heart
ask if they are that strong to make you
strong too
and protect you till the last breath
of your suffering and pain
ask more questions and find out the answers
from all these pillars
lean on them, and touch them and
shoot them with the bullets of your
quizzical looks
listen carefully to the correct answers
and stare at all of them
slowly, these pillars will crumble
and turn to powder for in truth there is no
other pillar stronger than what
they have constructed for you through all these years
except the pillar that your body built
on your legs from the bottom of your feet
it is you ultimately that you can only lean on
you to protect you
till the last breath of you is finally taken away.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Building A Big House
you build a big house
with one thought, a wish
that something may last forever
like love, like the finest wood
like a relationship,
or say
(let me say it this way)
a marriage, like strong stairs
inviting attention to society
that no one is leaving
like a door closing behind
a sigh,
but a house with time falls
pillars collide, and floors go
termite eaten to the ground
doors fall out from the hinges
that hold them it their frames,
nothing lasts forever
i know,
i build a house because i know
what love is
i want to give it shelter and warmth
like those rooms
a glow like those living rooms
a nice dinner
like the kitchen and the dining tables.
i do not think beyond my body
that turns to dust
i know
i do not utter beyond my words, i know,
no words can withstand the
lures of the niceties of a lie.
i know
i build the house because we are here
and there is nothing
worth doing
there is no snow and ski is irrelevant.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A House called Lonely (A Trilogy in three parts)
There is a street in every town that owns a house
called lonely. Then when your just passing by you might
just say, 'if only.
If only could mean a life time of thoughts but it does'nt cure
a lonely house and all its faults.
Boarded up windows and tiles gone from the roof, graffiti
painted by a rebelious youth.
Such a lonely house and an oh such a tired one,
one that has lost all it's fun.
Stairs and rafters all gone to pot all that is left
is wood worm and dry rot.
No children playing in the garden, it's just a house condemend
by the council without no pardon. Poor lonely house someones
forgotton dream, now describing lifes social scene.
This lonely house stands in the way because their building
a By Pass or a new motorway.
The house called lonely could be any where, in the town, the
country or city square.
Even in your street there's a house called lonely just waiting
for you to say 'if only'
poem by Sylvia Spencer
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A Summer's Rain
I am not afraid to say
That I love a summer's rain
To listen to the pitter-patter of rain drops
Splash lightly upon the window panes
I love to gaze out at the falling rain
To see the plants and flowers sparkle in the misty haze
That covers the water coloured scene before me
Each dropp of water shimmering where it lay
I love to see the sun during a summer's rain
Its glistening beams spreading out far and wide
Creating a prism of wonderful colours
To form a beautiful rainbow across the sky
I love the smell after a summer's rain
When everything in sight is wash'd anew
The world seeming a little brighter now
That the summer rain is through
poem by John A. Hancock
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One
Is it getting better
Or do you feel the same
Will it make it easier on you
Now you got someone to blame
You say
One love
One life
When it's one need
In the night
It's one love
We get to share it
It leaves you baby
If you don't care for it
Did I disappoint you?
Or leave a bad taste in your mouth?
You act like you never had love
And you want me to go without
Well it's too late
Tonight
To drag the past out
Into the light
We're one
But we're not the same
We get to carry each other
Carry each other
One
Have you come here for forgiveness
Have you come tor raise the dead
Have you come here to play Jesus
To the lepers in your head
Did I ask too much
More than a lot
You gave me nothing
Now it's all I got
We're one
But we're not the same
We hurt each other
Then we do it again
You say
Love is a temple
Love a higher law
Love is a temple
Love the higher law
You ask me to enter
But then you make me crawl
And I can't be holding on
To what you got
When all you got is hurt
One love
One blood
One life
You got to do what you should
One life
With each other
Sisters
Brothers
One life
But we're not the same
We get to carry each other
Carry each other
One
One
song performed by by U2
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One
Is it getting better
Or do you feel the same
Will it make it easier on you now
You got someone to blame
You say...
One love
One life
When its one need
In the night
One love
We get to share it
Leaves you baby if you
Dont care for it
Did I disappoint you
Or leave a bad taste in your mouth
You act like you never had love
And you want me to go without
Well its...
Too late
Tonight
To drag the past out into the light
Were one but were not the same
We get to carry each other
Carry each other
One...
Have you come here for forgiveness
Have you come to raise the dead
Have you come here to play jesus
To the lepers in your head
Did I ask too much
More than a lot
You gave me nothing
Now its all I got
Were one
But were not the same
Well, we hurt each other
Then we do it again
You say
Love is a temple
Love a higher law
Love is a temple
Love the higher law
You ask me to enter
But then you make me crawl
And I cant be holding on
To what you got
When all you got is hurt
One love
One blood
One life
You got to do what you should
One life
With each other
Sisters
Brothers
One life
But were not the same
We get to carry each other
Carry each other
One... one...
One... one...
song performed by by Information Society
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Leaking Roof
it is raining and here i am stuck
under the roof of a deserted house
the windows are open
nobody has come to close four windows
looking to the street like an insomniac,
the door is creaky like a sore throat
sounding like an incurable allergic sneeze
the crazy wind bangs it from time to time
and i do not mind the routine of noise
for a while a walk to and fro
like i am making a picket
observing the details of how a deserted house
can look like
or feel like: there seems to be a growling silence
abbreviating itself like a scream
cut short by my hands kept inside my pocket
i look up and see the leaking roof
making a rhythm of the dripping beat
of this poem.
i have nothing in mind, i am empty
and emptying still. I take in so much quantity
of silence, the weight of thoughts,
the silly purposeless probe
of what i am suppose to be and where i must be going
after this temporariness of loafing.
The rain stops. I am leaving.
The rhythm ceases.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Cautious Listener
when i speak to you
i always keep my own eyes
sometimes when i speak to
some sort of people like you
i am afraid that after i have spoken
my eyes are no longer in their sockets
i get blinded
and then i find myself lost in the
labyrinth of our thoughts
and then i tell you that you are such
a cruel chatter
leaving me trembling with my fingers
trying to find my way back
home
and you tell me
where is home my friend? is there a home for you?
basic as what is home? depends on what home is
and then i begin to bite my nails
i shrink
a small child
asking where mom is where dad is
when house and home are gone
when the stairs are too high
when the lights are turned off and i am outside the door
when all the friends are saying their prayers with their moms
and when it begins to rain
and i have nothing to run to
and so now i am careful when you start talking to me
i touch my eyes feel my eyelashes
for a touch of home
my tongue gets twisted before
but now as careful as a cat, my tongue is a rope tied on a tree
the other end open ended
like a fork of the snake
spelling each word correctly
when you speak i listen
and i will not let you know that i do not easily believe you
i have a book in my head
and it is enough
it is good.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Overbird
O = Once upon the midnight enter hurry
V = Verily the hurry worry enter scurry
E = Eerily or early bird of enter Poe
R = Raven is only one huge enter Crow
B = Better to see them from the
distance of the hour glasses with
thick lenses enter Tommy use your eye
I = Intense discussion rules get broken
enter time to turn the worm over
enter into the night
R = Roman Judges rule nothing enter Rome
not one stone standing of the Jewish enter
temple now
D = Describe the Vulture in the Temple its
got wings of darkness its got red eye
with long black enter nose this time
this poem enter perfect prose
poem by Charles Hice
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Summer Rain
Memory has seized stinging
Thoughts do not beat on the hands
You’re going and I’m seeing
You off to the alien lands
You are the constant migrant
Looking for good luck
You came just to say that you went
And you fly again.
So scud.
Summer rain, summer rain
It today has pored so early
Summer rain, summer rain
Will clear my heartache curlie-wurlie
We shall share our grieves with it
By the water-blind pane
Summer rain, summer rain
Whispers it to me his wisdom:
You will come, come again
Come again, to return freedom
Missing one’s time is most frequent of life plays
With two actors at stage.
Night dreams of you will soon vanish
Soon they will perish and, oh!
New dream will lighten and get warmth in my old cold home
When you have love, don’t seek more loving
You’ll realize with time
Now you don’t want to hear my cry and you’re lost for a while.
Summer rain, summer rain
It today has pored so early
Summer rain, summer rain
Will clear my heartache curlie-wurlie
We shall share our grieves with it
By the water-blind pane
Summer rain, summer rain
Whispers it to me his wisdom:
You will come, come again
Come again, to return freedom
Missing one’s time is most frequent of life plays
With two actors at stage.
song, lyrics by Igor Talkov, translated by Victor Sklyarov
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The Churches Of This World
since then the churches of the world
have gone mad
undesigned are they
to mangers and sheeps
and no light from any star
gets in
there is no window where
the moon can shine
its roof is a thick as
their self-made tenets
their walls are impenetrable
by the simplicities of our lives
their seats are reserved
for the kinds and
other majesties
there is no crib in there
for the baby to cry
and sleep
its floors in shining marbles
its pillars in gold and silver
that even God
would have second thoughts
coming.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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When The Rain Stopped Falling
there is this heavy rain
falling on top of your roof and it is so disturbing
that you wake up
and lock your windows
to shut yourself away from the sounds
of falling
but you cannot help worrying even when you cannot
literally hear the sound of the falling rain
you still imagine how they fall inside your mind
as though you can hear every syllable that every neddle of rain
is pricking in your brain
your ears
and your eyes still have the image of these
series of fallings
that even if the rain finally stopped
and you open your window to check
in the middle of this time
when morning cracks fromt the shutters of your windows
you still think like crazy
you hear the sound of the wind and it is like the sound of the falling
rain
and even if the wind has left like a leaf flown to the eastern side
of your house
even if there is no shadow of the leaf anymore
you hear your heart falling from your chest
now you must accept
leaving.
now you must accept the pain.
do not deny it.
it is you that is falling out
from the grace of her love.
it is you.
cry it out!
shout it!
it is you.!
it is you!
it is not the rain, it is not the wind, it is not the leaf that was blown away
towards the eastern part of the house.it is not the design of the house.
it is not the purple curtains. it is not the lonely courtyard
it is not the red bowl. it is not the tower.
it is not the blank sheets of paper.
it is not the bell.
it is not the winding stairs.
it is not the dirty garage.
it is not the scaffold.
it is not the white paint.
it is not the doorbell.
it is not the turbulence of the plane.
it is not the slap of the hand.
it is not the blue fan.
it is not the cellophance floating in the air and whirling in that corner
a dead-end.
it is you! and that is the truth!
be calm now. wipe the tears.
try sleep and dream.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Broken Windows Shattered Mirrors
Broken windows shattered mirrors
The tiny slivers fall like tears
They cut me till my arms run red
They make me wish that I was dead
And though I try to carry on
I know my time here's almost gone
Broken windows shattered mirrors
Broken windows shattered mirrors
I'm surrounded by these fears
I know I shouldn't be afraid
I feel like I'm locked up in a cage
I push and pull try to get out
I scream until I just can't shout
Broken windows shattered mirrors
Broken windows shattered mirrors
I'll have bad luck seven years
I know it's just a superstition
But I also know it's pure intuition
That made me stay not fade away
So I could live another day
Broken windows shattered mirrors
poem by Anonymous Ghurl
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The First Rain of Monsoon
In the month of May
The Summer does sway
The first rain of Monsoon
The drizzling started very soon
The weather is so pleasing
In the evening
The breeze is blowing
the leaves are hovering
At the tender touch of rain drops
Rain is good for upcoming crops
The nature get rejuvenated
Spirit of living life elevated
Water in the form of rain
Never goes in vain
Whether India, England or Spain
People wish rain to come again
Pouring in the valleys, raining in the plain
The thirsty Earth values the rain
After the rain sky is clear
The shining leaves become dear
Listen to the music of nature
New melody of every creature
Flattering of the leaves together
Soft gargling sound of water
Enjoying the rain with pleasure
Writing poem on beauty of nature
Shashikant Nishant Sharma
{Written on 12 May,2012 on experiencing the soft touch of first drizzle of the Monsoon in Delhi. The weather was unforgettable and moments cherishable.}
poem by Shashikant Nishant Sharma
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