My Own Emptiness
morning
is an empty slate.
i go outside
this room into an open garden
rays of sun arrive
upon leaves soundlessly
mushrooms grow on the sides
of the old narra tree
i imagine i see some
elves
big biga leaves capture
water and on its edges are dews
i am empty like an empty slate of
morning
sunlight cannot
neither dew
nor nymphs of myth
fill it up.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
Empty Sky
I woke up this morning
I could barely breathe
Just an empty impression
In the bed there you used to be
I want a kiss from your lips
I want an eye for an eye
I woke up this morning to an empty sky
Empty sky, empty sky
I woke up this morning to an empty sky
Empty sky, empty sky
I woke up this morning to an empty sky
Blood on the streets
Blood flowin down
I hear the blood of my blood
Cryin from the ground
Empty sky, empty sky
I woke up this morning to an empty sky
Empty sky, empty sky
I woke up this morning to an empty sky
On the plains of jordan
I cut my bow from the wood
Of this tree of evil
Of this tree of good
I want a kiss from your lips
I want an eye for an eye
I woke up this morning to the empty sky
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Empty Room
Empty room, empty room
How am I gonna fill U?
How am I gonna fill this empty room?
Lonely hearts, worlds apart
Why must they be broken?
How am I gonna ever fill this empty room?
And what is wrong when love is strong?
Why can't it last 4ever?
How could U go and leave me all alone?
Tears fall on barren walls
But what's the use in cryin'?
I gotta find a way 2 fill this empty room
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Watching The Flowers
i open the window
and look out to the garden below
the rain just stopped
and every leaf had the share of the
morning shower
dewy, each leaf smiles
each flower opens each petal anticipating
the sun
fingers of sunlight arrive
and there is touching and hugging
and kissing
light to dew to leaves
flowers to the rays of the sun
such a joy
like an early morning chat with a friend
you haven't had a talk for days
and you discuss
social studies
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Reasons
sometimes
tired of the buzzing of the word
he gives flesh to it
even wings
and so the bees
come
often
the words are empty like
a vacant room
or an abandoned
cottage in one of those
untamed forest
one can do
something as he does
after so many
experimentation
when words are just
wind or air or static space
he plants a tree
and leaves become
inhabitants
flowers arrive as buds
and butterflies
of variant colors
arrive as
colonies
must you remember
how the void is filled
with light and there was light
how the islands come
dotting the seas?
who likes a void, an empty space?
even God
dislikes it
we are here
because of that.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Absence
My cup is empty to-night,
Cold and dry are its sides,
Chilled by the wind from the open window.
Empty and void, it sparkles white in the moonlight.
The room is filled with the strange scent
Of wistaria blossoms.
They sway in the moon's radiance
And tap against the wall.
But the cup of my heart is still,
And cold, and empty.
When you come, it brims
Red and trembling with blood,
Heart's blood for your drinking;
To fill your mouth with love
And the bitter-sweet taste of a soul.
poem by Amy Lowell
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The Dead Tree At The Center Of Our Garden
a tree at the center of
our garden
is shedding off all its
leaves
the wind at night
blows away all the leaves
away
in the morning
sunlight passes through it
leafless throughout the day
we have become
illuminated
our sad faces are now telling
stories
sooner the tree dies
replaced by a new one
to keep the balance
we do not stop moving
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Upon A Dead Tree
this morning
i check upon
a dead tree
there are
no leaves
what i see
are birds
looking like
leaves
the tree is still
dead
and then the twigs
are all empty
when all the
birds
fly away
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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On The Shore
One child on the shore
With a stick on his hands
Writes on the sands
Some drawings
Playful
A wave comes and slides
On the shore
The drawings are gone
And a new slate is given
By the water that runs
That advances to him
And later surrenders to itself
Another young man
Draws a heart on the sand
Swearing a love eternal
All encompassing
A wave slides forth
And comes back pulling towards itself
A new slate is made again
The old man comes later
Writing his life story with a cane
The same wave comes again
Slides forth and pulls itself
An empty slate
Sand so smooth and blank and plain
Gleaming anew
To the blue skies
Everything looks playful,
Indeed. The sameness and the
Constant repetition. The cycle.
The monotony of life.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Nevertheless You'll Do
You've never driven through a red light,
Or let your mind leave your body.
It's pitch black in bed every night:
You set the clock right for the morning alarm.
You've never wanted to start any fights,
Don't know a thing about tapping in on wires.
I fill the room with people
but still you sit empty,
Stuck like putty.
I tried to teach you good rock'n'roll,
But you couldn't get over the old one-two,
And nevertheless, you'll do.
Nevertheless, you'll do.
Nevertheless, I do.
You're getting up in the morning and put on your suit [ca. 0'55]
For the office, and leave me.
You come home all pushed and pulled,
At six-thirty in the evening.
The television, it takes you away
To a picture-world where I have no say in it.
I fill the room with people
but still you sit empty,
Stuck like putty.
I tried to teach you good rock'n'roll,
But you couldn't get over the old one-two,
And nevertheless, you'll do.
Nevertheless, you'll do.
Nevertheless, I do
song performed by by Kate Bush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Empty Slate
A simple time,
that I remember,
when life was blank,
And I could write anything,
Become anyone and be anything,
with imagination and tales,
so strange,
life was simple with,
my clear and empty slate,
now my slate,
Cluttered and flaked,
leads my life,
Taking hold,
Instead of me,
choices made,
Stay in my heart,
and scar the future,
with the past.
poem by Rebecca Adams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Rosy Dream
This is for you,
Did pencils ever write
unwritten paper
empty blank
broken moment
unsaid poems and little words of fear
This morning of our affection
we spill our emotions
through the glass of wine
of ordinary hot words....
and walk through the shore of sand
sea shore is now empty....
a rosy garden
where roses fall silent
at the gaze of the moon,
where the night falls in a rosy faint, and snow
like a' ruby 'drops....
In the morning of our belief
in the faces of stars
like a kiss of words
we rely upon,
the streets remain empty
and our watches break again...
our skies sing
in a painful breeze
we miss our little song
Did paint ever portray
unspoilt canvas
empty hands
idle colours
rest
In the morning of singing song,
whistling
birds.....
poem by Thampi KEE
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Empty time, empty place. Empty heart, empty space.
Empty time, empty place.
Empty heart, empty space.
Give a little, fight a war
Take a lot, there is more.
Left to die, all alone.
Blackened sins to atone.
In a place by a stream,
in a dark, empty dream.
In a room candles glow.
Truth prevails if you know.
Something sweet and something blue.
Something with a natural hue.
The Mango Tree In My Backyard
the mango tree in my backyard,
stand majestic and strong,
the first morning rays,
falling thro the leaves,
like myraid colorful beans, ,
chirping of bird is like melodious song,
parrat myna bulbul and so,
make upteem sounds,
squirrel jumping up and down,
the water dripping leaves inrain,
flutter of leaves while the breeze blow,
summer sun glows like orange ball,
but the cool breeze of the tree gives a relief,
the mango tree saw us grow,
know our grief and all our sorrow,
the majestic tree gave us support and peace,
a true companion of our life indeed.
.
poem by renu Vig sharma sharma
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I Am Human......
i am eating Italian flat bread
inside it four rectangular slices of cheese
it is a Sunday and the university is at its
best in the quiet
the skies are blue and the grasses are green
still wearing the dews that glisten against the early sunlight
i sit on a stone bench under the narra tree
on the 8th day of July where leaves are plenty
i love life because of you.
i love this Sunday morning this quiet this solitude still because of you.
i am lost because of you, and without you still i must find myself
because of you.
how i envy the one that owns you, but i must accept this fate
because of you.
you are not what i am
you are not what i can touch
you are not what i can never have
you are not what i can never find
if you read this by chance
you must learn to forgive me.
i am human.i am sin.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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So Long Jackson
scattered words on a canvass
Dripping paint
a bit of myth
Chance
Color
Curled up on in your head
a fire without coals
The bottle just about empty
Dead painter
Steel car with blood
Alcoholism is a decadent religion
Fame an empty seat
Fall leaves without a plan
So long Jackson
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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In Love...
there is no empty plate
nothing is stained
there is no empty chair
everyone sits
there is no tree without
leaves
no twig without a fruit
there is no paper without
words of praise
there is no labyrinth without
a trace
there is no chaos
understanding always reigns
there is no attempt to change
what cannot be.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Three Imaginary Boys
Walk across the garden
In the footsteps of my shadow
See the lights out
No one's home
In amongst the statues
Stare at nothing in
The garden moves
Can you help me?
Close my eyes
And hold so tightly
Scared of what the morning brings
Waiting for tomorrow
Never comes
Deep inside
The empty feeling
All the night time leaves me
Three imaginary boys
Slipping through the door
Hear my heart beats in the hallway
Echoes
Round and round
Inside my head
Drifting up the stairs
I see the steps behind me
Disappearing
Can you help me?
Close my eyes
And hold so tightly
Scared of what the morning brings
Waiting for tomorrow
Never comes
Deep inside
The empty feeling
All the night time leaves me
Three imaginary boys sing in my
Sleep sweet child
The moon will change your mind
See the cracked reflection
Standing still
Before the bedroom mirror
Over my shoulder
But no one's there
Whispers in the silence
Pressing close behind me
Pressing close behind
Can you help me?
Can you help me?
Can you help me?
song performed by by Cure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Walking With The Lover...
walking with the Lover...
i see empty fields plowed,
come alive with crops abundant.
empty factory buildings filled
with the ghosts of hard working lives.
empty houses lit up,
and the sounds of families.
empty hands given cups and bowls,
empty hearts held close!
empty words given meaning,
empty promises fulfilled.
walking with the Lover...
touching the plenty of empty!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The only picture that I see
This morning I am waiting
on the light
to start the day
and thinking about something
to say to you
by electronic mail.
I am looking in and out
and seeing things in myself
as if I exist out of my body
and outside the two dogs
are walking up and down
the lawn
as if inspecting new flowers
blooming in the early morning
and they are sniffing
at geraniums and morning glories
which are growing wild.
The two cats are stretching out
on the bark of the fallen tree
ripping their nails into it
and trying to catch
the first rays of the sun
and still my life is empty
while you are away from me
and that’s the only picture that I see.
poem by Gert Strydom
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For I Too Must Leave Just Like Those Birds
the tree in the garden
has died
what we see now are
nothing but twigs without leaves
below are the heaps
of dead leaves
rotting
we have become like them
hopeless for sometime
dry and cracking
light as the wind
drifting like
the cloud
empty, hollowed by the
mourning of our arid
days
dragging nights
lifeless on a very cold wood
for a bed
one morning some yellow sparrows
with thin long black beaks
hover upon those twigs
and the dead tree even for
the moment has assumed
life
upon a borrowed hope only
for that brief moment
until then when all the sparrows
fly away again
taking with them all the songs
that you hear
you learn the tune from those
thin black and long beaks
and you must compose a song
for yourself
borrowing hope from hope
putting those leaves back
on your
imaginary trees
you must tell me
about the will to live
for i too must leave
and be a part of somewhere else
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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