My Melancholy Is Your Melancholy
and so at the end
we rediscover that my
melancholy
is your melancholy too
we cannot describe
how deep the roots are
and how rotten
the trees
we were counting the
leaves falling
we want to measure
the length and weight
of the heaps
i do not bother myself
now
we have become so
different
like crisscrossing
lines
with endpoints
crazy somewhere
not wanting any
meeting
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
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Melancholy Mood
A little collie weed to ease I grief
too much agony living in the limits of big city
a little collie weed to meditate
too much insanity in this society
melancholy mood I eat for my food melancholy mood
rise this morning smile with the sun
oh I'm blessed another day has begun
everything in life has its purpose
find its reason it has its season
melancholy mood I eat for my food melancholy mood
tears leave my eyes I just want to fly
deep down I feel pain
but I know I must rise again
from this melancholy mood melancholy mood
melancholy mood I eat for my food melancholy mood
song performed by by Ziggy Marley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Away, Melancholy
Away, melancholy,
Away with it, let it go.
Are not the trees green,
The earth as green?
Does not the wind blow,
Fire leap and the rivers flow?
Away melancholy.
The ant is busy
He carrieth his meat,
All things hurry
To be eaten or eat.
Away, melancholy.
Man, too, hurries,
Eats, couples, buries,
He is an animal also
With a hey ho melancholy,
Away with it, let it go.
Man of all creatures
Is superlative
(Away melancholy)
He of all creatures alone
Raiseth a stone
(Away melancholy)
Into the stone, the god
Pours what he knows of good
Calling, good, God.
Away melancholy, let it go.
Speak not to me of tears,
Tyranny, pox, wars,
Saying, Can God
Stone of man's thoughts, be good?
Say rather it is enough
That the stuffed
Stone of man's good, growing,
By man's called God.
Away, melancholy, let it go.
Man aspires
To good,
To love
Sighs;
Beaten, corrupted, dying
In his own blood lying
Yet heaves up an eye above
Cries, Love, love.
It is his virtue needs explaining,
Not his failing.
Away, melancholy,
Away with it, let it go
poem by Stevie Smith
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Melancholy Child
A baby with a baby just barely seventeen
My mother mourned her innocence
While she bounced on her knee
A daddy on the road added to her tears and trials
Like silver rain they fell upon this melancholy child
The sounds of my childhood still linger in my song
My mother's lullaby that train that ran behind our home
A whippoorwill on a window sill - it should have made me smile
But everything sounds lonesome to a melancholy child
Now a restless blood runs in our family
I thought I could outrun the emptiness inside of me
So I went a little crazy, went a little wild
Trying to outdistance my own melancholy child
I met a kind and gentle man who thinks the world of me
And when he looks my way it is a woman that he sees
But when I can't explain to him the tears that fill my eyes
He takes me in his arms and rocks his melancholy child
You take a black Irish temper and some solemn Cherokee
A Southern sense of humor and you got someone like me
There are thorns on every rose to this I'm reconciled
They're just a little sharper to a melancholy child
And in my own babe's eyes I see the signs of a melancholy child
Heaven help us all, another melancholy child
song performed by by Pam Tillis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Poem (‘In The Stump of The Old Tree...’)
In the stump of the old tree, where the heart has rotted out, there is a hole the length of a man’s arm, and a dank pool at the bottom of it where the rain gathers, and the old leaves turn into lacy skeletons. But do not put your hand down to see, because
in the stumps of old trees, where the hearts have rotted out, there are holes the length of a man’s arm, and dank pools at the bottom where the rain gathers and old leaves turn to lace, and the beak of a dead bird gapes like a trap. But do not put your hand down to see, because
in the stumps of old trees with rotten hearts, where the rain gathers and the laced leaves and the dead bird like a trap, there are holes the length of a man’s arm, and in every crevice of the rotten wood grow weasel’s eyes like molluscs, their lids open and shut with the tide. But do not put your hand down to see, because
in the stumps of old trees where the rain gathers and the trapped leaves and the beak and the laced weasel’s eyes, there are holes the length of a man’s arm, and at the bottom a sodden bible written in the language of rooks. But do not put your hand down to see, because
in the stumps of old trees where the hearts have rotted out there are holes the length of a man’s arm where the weasels are trapped and the letters of the rook language are laced on the sodden leaves, and at the bottom there is a man’s arm. But do not put your hand down to see, because
in the stumps of old trees where the hearts have rotted out there are deep holes and dank pools where the rain gathers, and if you ever put your hand down to see, you can wipe it in the sharp grass till it bleeds, but you’ll never want to eat with it again.
Contemporary Poetry and Prose, 7 (Nov. 1936), 129.
poem by Hugh Sykes Davies
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No Tree Can Stand Tall Without Roots Spread!
Every seed sends roots first,
Finding for soil and ground
where it can stand firm and tall,
stand firm and tall if roots go
deep,
Spread wide to find The sap! single cell that carry life,
Give life to cells and tissues,
Shoot, barks, branches and
leaves,
feed the leaves exposing leaves
to light, Visible tree stands on exposed
roots, not roots visible, Man made boundaries, fence and
compound,
Can't prevent or limit roots or
branches,
Sometimes absorbing soil here,
Branch will extent to neighbouring house,
How one can limit the nature,
or confine growing tree to
narrow circle drawn by man?
So is every life on Earth!
Mankind is like forest of different trees,
Yet all roots of autotrophic trees
deep in the soil,
Only parasitic have those roots,
pierce other tree's heart! Dive deep into yourself,
O man! Can you survive without
Your roots?
know how you are here,
Is it the mortal parent brought
you here, Or your fate,
Only be grateful to their love and
care forever!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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Melancholy
My mother the cow who still feeds me now is being tortured
Her son the bull who the fields should plough is being slaughtered
The human child in the womb who is never born for being unwanted
Melancholy in the Age of Kali
Melancholy in the Age of Kali
Kali Kali
My mother, the earth, man treats like dirt, her resources being exhausted
Ant-like astronauts, of the human race, scratch and scar the moon's beautiful face
My brother, the sun, he still shines on
He'll continue to shine for some time to come
Melancholy in the Age of Kali
Melancholy in the Age of Kali
Kali Kali
Lamentation Lamentation Lamentation (repeat)
Heavenly Father still waters the grains
Seems like tears fall as it rains
Little boy blue come blow on your horn
The sheeps in the meadow the cows in the corn
Oh sweet friend of mine from an ancient nursery rhyme
From a distant land once upon a time
Melancholy in the Age of Kali
Melancholy in the Age of Kali
Kali Kali
song performed by by X-Ray Spex
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One summer when the wind was strong
This is the place, now we are here again
I remember that summer when the wind was strong
And everything around us was dry,
The acacia trees towered and showered us with
Round leaves falling and falling and falling
Some birds were there and they flew away
Some cars were there and they speeded away
It was getting dark and it was a dry summer
We stayed there for a while when the leaves fell
Then we went under the trees not seeking shelter
But to catch those leaves falling and falling and falling
We are trying to feel again what falling was
We are here on this summer, we see the leaves
Falling and falling again to the dry wind,
We try to recall about us, but there is simply
Nothing about us anymore, but just the same
The leaves fall and fall and fall, we see them reenacting
There is that meaning; there it is in the falling
But we have outgrown it, we look for more, we hope
We can find some more, something beyond us.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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On the Sea of Melancholy
I'm wasted. What is left of me,
Caressed by crushing, weeping waves
On the sea of melancholy?
Washed up in the wreck of worry
That concern's rising tide has gave,
I'm wasted. What is left of me?
The sky appears blue and bloody.
The sun sinks like shark bait behaves
On the sea of melancholy.
The sharp crosswind cuts me, chilly.
I'm gutted by remorse's shave.
I'm wasted. What is left of me?
Foggy tropes sound within the flurry
Of a despairing storm's grand stave
On the sea of melancholy.
The tidal stream seems tied, knotty,
Bounding me to a submerged grave.
I'm wasted. What is left of me
On the sea of melancholy?
poem by Tim Stensloff
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A Journey Back To Ourselves
as i stare at the
rain
i remember
trees
transparent and
cold
trees without
leaves
i imagine
twigs
or roots or
trunks
they are never
there
no matter how
trees are tears
without leaves
without roots
with so much
salt in each
and then you
touch the waves
of the imaginary
sea and then
your journey back
to you begins
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Youth, however, can afford to enjoy even its melancholy; for the ultimate fact of which that melancholy is a prophecy is a long way off.
quote by Richard Le Gallienne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rondel. (From The Duke Of Orleans)
Hence away, begone, begone,
Carking care and melancholy!
Think ye thus to govern me
All my life long, as ye have done?
That shall ye not, I promise ye;
Reason shall have the mastery.
So hence away, begone, begone,
Carking care and melancholy!
If ever ye return this way,
With your mournful company,
A curse be on ye, and the day
That brings ye moping back to me!
Hence away, begone, I say!
Carking care and melancholy!
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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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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There Are Reasons
there will always be reasons
as there are leaves from the trees,
why, this word never goes extinct,
it is famous, and always gets the
good ratings in the scoreboards
of our interrogative history,
why did you leave me? why did you
forsake me?
these are the top questions of
those who are in pain, of those
you have betrayed, and you
hide, wanting to grasp the most
convincing answer, like the leaves
of the trees,
falling, rotting, decaying, and
wanting to come up, rise
to the trunks, to the clouds
still wishing to explain, to exude
the sweet smell of humus,
death is sweet
decay is cool, in rotting
shall come the sweetest flavor of the soul.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Melancholy Song
A melancholy song plays
reversing the future to the past
along a wasteland
of invisible dotted lines
filled with haunted pits
where no one should ever enter.
From a future full of promise
to a past full of uncertainty
where the weeping willow sways
under a mournful wind
as the melancholy song
drags the past to the future
so misery can rein again.
11 February 2011
poem by David Harris
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Blu Is A Mood
State of mind
Color
Way beyond
Yonder
Deeper
Paradise
All describe
All describe
Blu is a mood
When you're feelin' kinda melancholy
And ya get somethin' never thought about
Outta nowhere
Once in a while there's a special moon
And a clear sky colored pale azure
They all have something in common
And it's blu
State of mind
Color
Way beyond
Yonder
Deeper
Paradise
All describe
All describe
Blu is a mood
So bright it can be electric
Or indigo
Cobalt
Powder
Or Paris
Have it any way you like
Stones of metamorphic sapphirine
>From the heavens down to the deepest sea
It's in every part of your life
Do you feel it
State of mind
Color
Way beyond
Yonder
Deeper
Paradise
All describe
All describe
Blu is a mood
Blu's not just a primary color
It's a backdrop for the univere
SO if you're vibing on this chill atmoshpere
Baby you have been blue
song performed by by Blu Cantrell from So Blu
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Autumn elegy in summer
It really is a bummer to think of Autumn when still in summer
But it's a breeze
A little ditty devoid of melancholy or self pity
The autumn leaves are falling,
But I'm not feeling sad
I did that just a year ago
I am so very GLAD!
YM SMITH
poem by Yvette Smith
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Sentimental Melancholy
Johnny mercer / richard whiting
Sentimental and melancholy
Whenever I think about you
Its only a mood,
A brief interlude
Thats better described as just feeling blue
I suppose that its just my folly
To keep it alive as I do
But its a kind of sugar coated misery
And foolish as it seems
I thought Id like to be
Sentimental and melancholy
Whenever I think about you
song performed by by Billie Holiday
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sentimental & Melancholy
Johnny mercer / richard whiting
Sentimental and melancholy
Whenever i think about you
It's only a mood,
A brief interlude
That's better described as just feeling blue
I suppose that it's just my folly
To keep it alive as i do
But it's a kind of sugar coated misery
And foolish as it seems
I thought i'd like to be
Sentimental and melancholy
Whenever i think about you
song performed by by Billie Holiday
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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