Notes About Grandpa
grandpa had a square jaw
a complete of hard yellow teeth
broad shoulders like his hectares of land
strong hands like his iron bars of words
he is hard on us
he is harder to papa who (if i were not mistaken
had a death wish for him
he should not have meant it
as anger was wont to
be)
he was soft on women
on lots of
beautiful women
grandma died when he was at his
hardest prime
and he had forgiven her
he was strict on codes
he broke all of them
sometimes i thought
he must have been too happy
before he died
crazy prostate cancer
ate him alive
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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He Says There Is No Denial
i watched him on his last lecture.
there are seven tumors on his liver.
six months to live and he is on the fourth month.
a little math will make us understand
as simple as that.
he does the push up
look there are no hands, he laughs.
there is no sadness in his eyes
just the glow of having to go
the eagerness of having to go on
sabbatical leave.
nervous laughter is heard
as he shifts from one joke to another.
he has three points: one must not stop dreaming.
second: one must help others realize their dreams
third: i miss this one. i have to go back and watch him again.
i guess i cried.
but i wipe my tears, and pretend that i feel nothing.
i can relate. Grandpa died of prostate cancer.
Papa died after Mama died. He could not wait dying
after another year.
well, what 's the worry? death is certain.
i think, there is nothing new here.
i, too, am moving, i may not know when, but i know where.
i just believe.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Grandpas Rocking Chair for M lady Chitra
On the front porch a rocking chair
nobody uses no one dare
Nor dare they move it anywhere.
Grandpa decreed it must stay there
What grandpa said was what he meant
he left no room for argument.
He simply stated his intent
Though other folk felt different
When Grandpa died the family tried
to set his iron rule aside
You’ll rue this day their Grandma cried
Your Grandpa will not be defied.
They moved the chair to show they could
though grandma did not think they should
She warned them all that nothing good
would come of this. She understood
although she knew Grandpa was dead.
She knew he’d rise in wrathful pride
to reinforce what he has said.
His last command before he died.
The chair was moved despite her pleas.
Her warnings were not listened to.
From that day on they knew no peace
Til grandma told them what to do
The rocking chair must be restored
to where Grandpa said it should be.
They all agreed of one accord
the chair replaced immediately.
Sometimes at night it seems to be
moving gently slowly rocking
Although there’s nothing they can see
they know that Grandpas visiting.
To see his word is still obeyed.
That no one moves his rocking chair.
Nobody will they’re too afraid.
They know sometimes he still sits there.
27-Oct-08
http: // blog.myspace.com/poetic piers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Papa
There was 1 september day that papa worked 2 hard
First he crucified every dandelion out in the yard
Then he screamed at baby twice 4 throwin rocks at passin cars
Baby didnt listen, so like a priceless work of art
He got snatched by his papa who then opened up the closet door
And pushed the four-year-old down, onto the closet floor
Baby cried Im sorry, I wont do it no more
Papa said yeah, I know, thats what this heres 4
Smack!
Ooh papa...
Smack! smack!
Ooh papa...papa...
Smack!
Ooh papa...
Smack! smack!
Ooh papa...papa...
As the door closes, baby starts 2 cry
Please dont lock me up again, without a reason why
Papa just went outside and pointed a shotgun up in the sky
He said how come I dont love my woman?
Then he took aim and died
Boom!
Papa...
Boom! boom!
Papa...papa
Boom!
Papa...
Boom! boom!
Papa...papa...
Dont abuse children, or else they turn out like me
Fair 2 partly crazy, deep down were all the same
Every single 1 of us knows some kind of pain
In the middle of all thats crazy, this 1 fact still remains
If u love somebody, your life wont be in vain
And theres always a rainbow, at the end of every rain
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Grandma's Old Piano Was Sold
grandma's piano is old.
she died ten years ago
being the second wife of grandpa.
my mother is her second child
that she sent to piano school
but father found her and married
her when she was still 18.
and i was born as their fourth
child. Mother knows how to play
the moonlight sonata which father
loves to listen at night when
i learn how to smile and laugh.
One day Papa found another woman
whom he said made him new again
and he left Mama.
One day Mama died and Papa married
that woman.
One day i left home.
One day the piano was sold
One day the piano was taken to another
town so far away from us.
One day, all these things, the piano, Papa
and my step mother are forgotten.
But then the Moonlight Sonata comes again
One night
From another piano nearby.
The keys are no longer made
From elephant tusks like grandma's old piano.
Not the off white of ivory.
So white and smooth like a well brushed teeth
of a very young boy.
I like to hear it when he learns
how to gnash.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Old Upright Piano
For as long as I remember, when friday night came round
The family would gather out at grandpas house.
With supper over and the dishes done
It was then the best time came
At an old upright piano that only grandma played.
She played beautiful dreamer, my wild irish rose;
She never played em perfect, but there was love in every note.
Grandpa sat beside her, in harmony they sang,
At the old upright piano that only grandma played.
Grandpa was a stubborn man, they said it was his style.
Grandma called him ornery, but she said it with a smile.
Even he could not disguise the love he felt so strong;
We all could see it in his eyes when she played his favorite song.
She played beautiful dreamer, my wild irish rose;
She never played em perfect, but there was love in every note.
Grandpa sat beside her, in harmony they sang,
At the old upright piano that only grandma played.
I was almost 17 when my grandma died;
I stayed all night with grandpa; the old man never cried.
He sat at her piano, there was nothing we could say
It was the first time in my life I ever heard my grandpa play.
It wasnt beautiful dreamer or my wild irish rose
It was a song he played from memory & he never missed a note
I sat right there beside him until the morning came
What a friend we have in jesus was the only song he played.
She played beautiful dreamer, my wild irish rose;
She never played em perfect, but there was love in every note.
Grandpa sat beside her, in harmony they sang,
At the old upright piano that only grandma played.
song performed by by Nitty Gritty Dirt Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Delaying Tactic...
Dr. Madonna has
a father who is an ex-general of the army
she is married but her husband has a zero sperm count
nevertheless, to save her husband from said predicament she adds,
that her cervix is also damaged based on an infection when she was
still 16.
her father is diagnosed with prostate cancer
stage 3B, and she is not actually that sentimental to entertain
the dance of sorrow,
he is 87 anyway and had lots of women during his
military career, and they are ten children in his wedded life,
and so there is nothing much to
sigh,
she accepts that death is a visitor but this time
it will be a timely one, the host is ready.
her Papa does not mention any possibility of a chemotherapy
or radiation and they seem to understand perfectly their silence
while they were riding that ferry that takes them from the city hospital
to their family home where everybody is waiting for
dinner
' we can go back next year and have a second opinion' her Papa
to break the silence, finally commented.
she nods and
kisses his firm hands.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Thankless Scions
Grandma was in isolation
She was in an isle of distress
The children whom she fed
With the blood turned milk
In her breasts
Have all flown and vanished
And she left abandoned
With the linings all over
In mind and skin
Heralding the arrival
Of the frail old December
Of the life, the end of the span!
The marvelous culture
Of a house- hold adorned
With grandma and grandpa
With children and grand children
Went into oblivion!
The grandma and grandpa
Is a hindrance to their children
Is a bad omen to scions
And an inconvenience
To the young and dynamic!
Grandma and grandpa
Are ignored and caged
As of a dog or parrot
And fed like a slave
Tied to a pole in chains!
The thankless sons and daughters
Never care the sufferings
And sacrifices of Ma and Papa
And they want to be alone
As being youthful in spirit
And are eager to enjoy
The spring of life
Where they hate the face of autumn!
Grandma, Grandpa, Ma and Papa
Are omen of autumn
That they never wish to sight!
The young whose blood
Rushes with the fuel of Ma's milk
Forget that the green leaves
Will turn yellow
And wither away
And an autumn is is hibernation
To embrace them tomorrow!
poem by Vadakkumpurath Ramesan
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Theres Nothing Soft About Hard Times
By: jimmy buffett
1970
Every day held a new surprise
I watched the hunger burning in my sisters eyes
The paste-board shack we called a home
Would haunt me in my dreams
cause theres nothing soft about hard times
Theres nothing soft about hard times
We never knew anything groovy
A dime meant bread and not a movie
The muscles that controlled my smile were rarely ever used
cause theres nothing soft about hard times
Theres nothing soft about hard times
Chorus:
I had to go cause I could see
I wasnt meant for poverty
The family ties were broken soon
I went off to find the moon
So I sit on a bench in jackson square
I drink my wine and I breathe the midnight air
Tomorrow Ill just hit the street and bum another dime
cause theres nothing soft about hard times
Theres nothing soft about hard times
Chorus:
I had to go cause I could see
I wasnt meant for poverty
The family ties were broken soon
I went off to find the moon
So I sit on a bench in jackson square
I drink my wine and I breathe the midnight air
Tomorrow Ill just hit the street and bum another dime
cause theres nothing soft about hard times
Theres nothing soft about hard times
Theres nothing soft about
No, no, no, no hard times
Theres nothing soft about hard times
No, no, no, no those hard times
Theres nothing soft about hard times
Im going to tell you about the hard times
Theres nothing soft about hard times
No, no, no, no hard times
song performed by by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Uncle Dan Rides Again
Real men aren't afraid of affection
Real women aren't afraid of sex
Never give a crazy man a gun
just because he asks for it;
don't tell the truth if it will be used to murder someone.
If you want to be beautiful
learn to smile.
It is not enough to be right
especially if you use it against others:
then it is a wrong.
Remember your children
are smarter than you
till they become teens;
then not so much
Be nice to people
it don't cost nothing.
Growing up is about
more than just getting taller
You can have anything you want in the world
if you are willing to let others have what they want too.
Always give credit to others more than yourself
even if this is not true.
The most important phrase in the world is
'I am not sure. Let's go find out.'
You can get any woman to fall in love with you
if you really love women. If you don't like women
the woman you end up with will return the favor.
You can get a man to fall in love with you
if you are willing to like him.
Gossip is the refuge
of those who lack any skills
If you are willing to shut up just some of the time
you'll get smarter
Don't spend your life protecting
what didn't deserve protecting in the first place
It is hard to find a good woman
so get a hard woman to help you look
Women want a man who understands
what women want without having to be told.
A man wants a woman who gives him what
he wants without asking
You can't find your princess
without being a prince yourself
Don't wait until you are on your death bed
to tell people you are sorry
Don't wait until mom or dad is on their death bed
before you tell them you love them.
Act like a loving person
and soon you don't have to act no more
Beginning things is easy
ending things is the hard part.
Being happy only comes to the happy being.
Happy being is the willingness to be without demands.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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A True Story of A True Pet.... My Grandmother's Pet
Pets are always very precious!
They feel and understand our feelings and sorrows!
My maternal grandma an humanist
She tame many pets like cats, pigeons etc
It is her hobby and fun!
She gives foods to her pets regularly and sufficiently
She feeds the pigeons and cats
She love her cat a lot!
She gives milk, meat, fish, bones, rice as his foods
Her pets love her a lot!
She takes care of them very lovingly
But those days were very strange and sad!
My grandpa had died that day!
After his death, that cat not used to eat anything and survive without food
He was behaving very strangely
Even that cat could understand feelings of grandma about her husband That cat was sad to see grandma in pain and couldn't tolerate the pain of the mournful death
At last, the cat had died because of not taking foods
Grandma found it under the bed
Grandma says that was her favorite pet!
poem by Z.I. Mahmud
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i will not be fooled by Prudence
i have seen the old man
die. His face spell regrets
and no matter how the funeral
make-up artist stretched
his slips, he never formed
a smile.
I know him.
He was during his younger days
a very prudent man
He observed strictly the codes
of restraint
and refused an offer of
looseness and being
free.
He prays a lot
and reports to God
all his misgivings.
He was a handsome young man
and women adored him
But he only had one wife
one woman all in his lifetime
who never sired
him a child.
This was his prime
misfortune.
He was erased from
the genetic tree
Forever.
His wife died ahead of him
and He prayed a lot
not to betray her
even when
more women still
are willing to sleep with
him.
For after all despite his age
he was still a man
with a lovable face.
Then suddenly he died.
Absurd. He died in sleep
A happy death perhaps without
the accompanying torture
of pain and
waiting.
But no matter what,
his face in that coffin
never shows
a hint of the joy
of eternal
peace, that inevitable
rest.
I know him
He has a misgiving.
He was fooled by Prudence.
He was a slave of
His own morality always fearing
what society may name him after.
He died a lonely man.
Erased by time.
Fooled by his own Prudence.
I look at him before he was buried.
And i made a promise with him.
I am not a fool and i will not be fooled
to suffer the same fate he had.
I will choose looseness.
Happiness. The one which is always free
Unrestrained by anyone else's code of Morality.
Subjective, as i have always known
it to be.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Shoes
The shoes are red
And creamy white on the inside
As pure and beautiful on the inside
As they are vibrating red
On the outside.
She puts her incredibly beautiful feet
In them and begins her practice routine.
The red shoes hug her feet
As if from sheer love,
Glistening, having achieved their purpose.
Plus her feet are beautiful, warm and strong.
I know.
You wouldn't be able to know,
Those shoes looked so gentle and pretty
Just a while ago.
They go with her every move
Seemingly loving every minute of it.
The leather red of her shoes
Is the color of blood
Reflecting and bright, the color of life alive.
So is she
Tall, warm, smiling and full of life.
Many a man has died
Perhaps knowing that she is what he protected,
Or thousands of women just like her.
She knows,
Because she went to battle herself
Right alongside the men that died.
But now she is busy.
Doing what she wants to do,
Her practise in her red patent leather shoes.
She sees me
Observing her.
Her soft, brown and hard eyes smile,
Spreading to her warm and pink lips.
Taller than most women,
Her hair in bangs,
Framing her face.
She finishes her practice routine,
Steps out of her red shoes
And goes into the shower.
I pick up her shoes,
And breathe in
The traces of her persona.
Darling
I still have your red shoes,
And can still breathe in
Some traces of your persona.
Why have you left this warrior
For another?
poem by Lonely People Champion
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Silver
Nirvana- Silver
Mom and dad went to a show
They dropped me off at Grandpa Joe's
I kicked and screamed, said please don't go
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Had to eat my dinner there
Mashed potatoes and stuff like that
I couldn't chew my meats too good
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
She said, well, don't you start your crying
Go outside and ride your bike
That's what I did, I killed my toe
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
After dinner, I had ice cream
I fell asleep and watched TV
I woke up in my mother's arms
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
I wanna be alone
song performed by by Nirvana
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wall of Tears
I've tried to talk about the nights
That I call... Just incredibly bad...
But every time... they feel as if...
I'm going stark ravening mad...
I held my buddy's hands.
As he breathed... His dying breathe...
Shaking... and
Scared to death...
It was like mosquito death!
Never had so much fear...
Anger...Blood...
And Strife...
Complete helpless-ness...as my buddy
Lost his life
Oh Please...God...
God...Won't you help him too?
But when you're in that Dark Hell!
Not even God...Can guide you!
It's hard today to live as one man...
I doubt... Anyone will ever understand!
He pleaded... Don't leave me behind!
That night...souls... tears... combined!
I didn't...
But as Jimmy lost his soul and died...
He died...
So did mine...
P.S.
I know...I know...It's hard to believe
It's been forty some years
But I cried so hard...
When when I read your name...
On that Wall Of Tears
And Jimmy... I'm trying hard to win!
So that God...Will let us meet again!
P.P.S.
That tin star that they gave!
Claiming I was so very brave...
I took it.. to Shoshone... and there...
I tossed it...into the Falls
Clinching that safety fence...
Just struggling... trying... to stand tall!
So I go there often to enjoy the view...
With those endless tears in my eyes...
Everyday...
I've remembered you...
Clyde Grant Bryson
poem by Clyde Bryson
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Unloved Children
Must be a factory somewhere
Keeps on cranking them out
Seems like they travel in pairs
Not worth the trouble but too full of clout
Somebody must play his game
They get stuck in the here and now
Lending and borrowing pain
His fist, your face, you kiss the ground
But he dont do nothing half way
Complete this equation
He needs justification
Distaff affirmation
To keep on crankin it out
We could build cell on cell
Mainline him straight to hell
But that would not dispel
Violent men, hard-headed women, unloved children
Must be a garden somewhere
Keeps on sending them down
Big eyes, big teeth, big hair
Ready to breed with the nearest clown
She has the will to complain
But something wont let her
Break free of the tether
Even though she knows better
She just cant figure it out
We can prescribe for pain
Have her declared insane
Even all this wont change
Violent men, hard-headed women, unloved children
We let them find their own way
While everyone chooses
To ignore the abuses
Weve all got excuses
We keep on, keep on cranking them out
And nobody has the time
To look at the great design
But theyre all from the same bloodline
Violent men, hard-headed women, unloved children
song performed by by Todd Rundgren
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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These Lost, These Come At A Cost Women
I see these city lights and flashy cars
These beautiful women lost under stars
These daughters and sisters and mothers
These lost women
These come at a cost women
Given a glance then a dance
Given the means to live by the fiends of these beautiful women
Lost in a daze of green
A daze I've seen
Spotlights on these beautiful women
Eyes on these and cheers for these beautiful women
Lies in these and fears in these lost women
These come at a cost women
Show, bought and ready to go
At a price higher then they know
These women worth more then gold
Priceless
But still sold
Oh these lost women
Don't you know your beautiful
Not hot women
That your beautiful
Not meant to be bought women
Beauty needs to be taught in these women
Instead of this that is not
Left in them to rot
Oh these beautiful women
These I've seen
Women whos pupils are all green
Men whos eyes are gazed in between wide thighs
Silent cries eventually taking its toll
Night after night eventually breaking the soul
I see these city lights and flashy cars
These beautiful women lost under stars
These daughters and sisters and mothers
These lost women
These come at a cost women
Don't you know your beautiful
Not hot women
That you’re beautiful
Not meant to be bought women.
poem by Bikramjyoti Kashyop
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These Lost, These Come At A Cost Women
I see these city lights and flashy cars
These beautiful women lost under stars
These daughters and sisters and mothers
These lost women
These come at a cost women
Given a glance then a dance
Given the means to live by the fiends of these beautiful women
Lost in a daze of green
A daze I've seen
Spotlights on these beautiful women
Eyes on these and cheers for these beautiful women
Lies in these and fears in these lost women
These come at a cost women
Show, bought and ready to go
At a price higher then they know
These women worth more then gold
Priceless
But still sold
Oh these lost women
Don't you know your beautiful
Not hot women
That your beautiful
Not meant to be bought women
Beauty needs to be taught in these women
Instead of this that is not
Left in them to rot
Oh these beautiful women
These I've seen
Women whos pupils are all green
Men whos eyes are gazed in between wide thighs
Silent cries eventually taking its toll
Night after night eventually breaking the soul
I see these city lights and flashy cars
These beautiful women lost under stars
These daughters and sisters and mothers
These lost women
These come at a cost women
Don't you know your beautiful
Not hot women
That you’re beautiful
Not meant to be bought women.
©Copyright 2008
poem by Regan Mackenzie
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His First Hug
his first hug
was not his
mother's
for
she died
on the first
day of his life,
neither his father's
coz he died
when the war
came about
long time
ago
not his
grandpa's
neither his
grandma's
no, not
hers
it was
from his
gay teacher
in the context
of a molestation
but he did not say
any word about it
simply because it was his first hug and it made him
feel wonderful
that he could
not really
forget
it.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Same As Here
I got home from school one day
with a dark spot on my eye
Masiter Kumedzro always say:
fighting was against the rules
so when Grandma got home I told her a story
just like I'd rehearsed some hours before
and there I stood on my trembling knees
waiting for the worst
interestingly, she did not say a word
when she got into the kitchen she called
she said son 'Let me tell you a secret
about a Grandma's love”
a secret she said was just between us
she said, “Grandma’s don't just love their children
every now and then, it's a love without an end, amen'
when I became a father
there was no doubt my son was a stubborn boy
he was not like me but as just like my father's son
one day when I thought my patience
had been tested to the end too long
I took my Grandma's secret
and I passed it on to him
he hugged me and cried on my shoulders
last night I dreamed I'd died
and stood outside those pearly gates of Salem
suddenly, I realized, there must be some mistake
supposing St. Peter knows half the things I've done
he would never open the gate to let me in
there a deep voice spoke from the other side of the dome
and I heard those words again
it said, “Son Grandpa’s don't just love their children
every now and then, it's a love without an end, amen'
poem by Padmore Enyonam Agbemabiese
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So Many Women I Know
So many women I know are quite wise
Of the wisdom of the fair sex I have come to realize
If women ruled the World it does seem to me
There would be far less wars and more of harmony
Between people of different races of every Land
With women's people skills this not hard to understand
Most women I know see war as all wrong
Few women one ever hear sing a war song,
Maggie Thatcher one woman who to the thinking of women not true
A real warlike leader to give her fair due
The wisdom of her gender by her actions she denied
In her time as British Prime Minister people she did divide
On an averge far less aggressive than males it does seem to me
Though most males I know with that would not agree.
poem by Francis Duggan
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