Observations Of The Man With A Broken Heart Spending Summer In A Getaway Beach
mother finally decided
to transfer his son to another
school in the busy city
there was something that she saw
and she did not like it
the son knows it
but like her says nothing about it
all the people saw it
but no one dares to mention it
taboos are silent pebbles
gritting to the coldness of the waves
not hurting to the eyes
but the ears are intolerant
it is during summer
that the pebbles begin to wear their angry eyes
the sands borrow the glitter of diamonds
the air is humid like a frigid woman
the trees shed off leaves
and grasses begin to wilt
the sea in its silence
has told more stories than the babbling kid
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Pre-Existence
I laid me down upon the shore
And dreamed a little space;
I heard the great waves break and roar;
The sun was on my face.
My idle hands and fingers brown
Played with the pebbles grey;
The waves came up, the waves went down,
Most thundering and gay.
The pebbles, they were smooth and round
And warm upon my hands,
Like little people I had found
Sitting among the sands.
The grains of sands so shining-small
Soft through my fingers ran;
The sun shone down upon it all,
And so my dream began:
How all of this had been before;
How ages far away
I lay on some forgotten shore
As here I lie to-day.
The waves came shining up the sands,
As here to-day they shine;
And in my pre-pelasgian hands
The sand was warm and fine.
I have forgotten whence I came,
Or what my home might be,
Or by what strange and savage name
I called that thundering sea.
I only know the sun shone down
As still it shines to-day,
And in my fingers long and brown
The little pebbles lay.
poem by Frances Darwin Cornford
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A Rock Garden
in my present garden
i put rocks and pebbles
some sands
added dusts
they ask what do i grow
in there?
i put a chair and sit there
alone
barefoot i put my hands
in the open
i gaze
feeling like the sun
to some
planets
the stones as i walk
for a while
grate
as though they have
teeth
then back to where i sit
they begin
to grow silence
silence is a lotus
it is a pond too where
a dragonfly is
hovering
there is this stillness of a
little universe
the space is emptiness
of imaginary
stars
there is no moon here
no one is lost
there are no leaves
no pretensions of stems and calyx
the stones are faceless
like everyone that i meet in the mall
the rocks stand like gods
unchanged unaffected by the chaos of
my thoughts
i gaze
transfer my eyes to those that remain
intact
immutable hardness
fixed situations
they only sound when you take a walk
they do not rearrange things here
for they are heavy
and always
unchanged, unaffected
steady, firm
lifeless, unfeeling
stubborn, solid,
tonight darkness sleeps with them
its coldness seeps in every stone
lifelessly
always unaffected, unfeeling
and much as i wanted to stay
i can't
i have life out there
a door to open again and again...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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One Hundred Ripples
One hundred ripples I mark today
One hundred steps along my way
One hundred steps lead to the pond
One hundred trees there do surround
One hundred birds nesting among the trees
One hundred bees filling the air with these
One hundred bees buzzing about in the air
One hundred flowers are pollinating there
One hundred flowers provide the aromas sweet
For one hundred bouquets given to lovers as treat
One hundred lovers walk the winding pathway
One hundred times to find romance there each day
One hundred times they will reach to explore
One hundred pebbles found along the pond shore
One hundred pebbles carry wishes through the air
One hundred ripples on surface creating there
One hundred ripples then spreading out will begin
One hundred waves soon lapping at the shore again
One hundred waves providing the means for
One hundred more pebbles to reach the shore
One hundred pebbles scatter along the pathway
One hundred steps retraced at the end of the day
One hundred small steps... this latest poem was conceived to denote
One hundred little ripples... spreading from 100 poems I wrote
poem by Mary Havran
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Beach,4 P.m. Somewhere...
as i walk along the beach
this afternoon
i give in to the child in me
picking up stones,
amazed by its colors
and shapes
i begin to make stories out
of them...stones, smaller ones,
like a creature possessed by an
enigma,
there must be an underlying
truth to its
shape, it is, as it must
be telling me about
what happens to me
after this?
is this a hurting enigma?
am i mad at my attempt to give meaning
to one without meaning?
i am interpreting a pebble
the smallness of humility the silence
of the insignificant
the wars of the sands
the struggle of the waves of the sea
chasing each other
as to who reaches the thighs of
the shore first
a mad man is reading the shores
of the sea on
a very insignificant moment of the day
the stones are writing novels
on the hot skins of the shores
people who pass me by are sparing me
of saying anything
and they refuse to look at me and give
that look
of that feeling that i must have been
one kind of
a wasted man
a child looks at me with pity
and asks, what are you doing with the pebbles?
are they speaking to you?
i am awakened by this vastness
sometimes to be found, i must experience being lost myself
in the secret labyrinths of
thought
the child is looking for play,
i do not have it.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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On A Much Keener Awareness....
the poetess on the grass
offers her set of eyes to the cats
so they may begin to see
the beauty of her lines
when blinded she sees more
of those clouds and flowers
she feels more the waters of the rivers
the songs of the trees
the silence of the nights
those busy days
the ants stepping upon the softness
of the mounds
of sands
beside her feet....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Complicated
I know
You want something
Complicated.
You move heaven and earth
To get what you want
A body, a room, a set of eyes
Wanting to write
Your name there-
Then the body
Grips your neck,
The room imprisons you
And the set of eyes
Stares at you,
Now they demand
Something that you dislike
You begin to hide
And wear disguises
You fold your arms
And they ache
You hold your feet
And you begin to
Feel the numbness
Of things that you said
You love to hold to keep
You remember some dreams
They had all been there
In silence
You mention some names
You face some faces
But they do not
Recognize you anymore
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Shakened And Awaiting On A Meter
I am not going to bide my time,
Shakened and awaiting on a meter!
To watch it eat up a clock...
With time I think,
That I've got.
I am not going to bide my time,
Shakened and awaiting on a meter...
'Cause,
I've never had it like that...
With time to sit back,
And to waste.
When Winter melts...
A new season comes to start.
When Spring arrives...
The budding on the trees are seen.
Flowers begin to bloom.
Birds begin to sing.
When Summer comes,
Humid and bringing on a sticky heat.
This is followed by Autumn...
And the leaves then fall from trees.
Blowing everywhere on the streets.
And forgetting all the beauty of the colors.
Mixed and drifting with each other.
When Winter melts,
A new season comes to begin.
The budding on the trees are seen.
Flowers begin to bloom.
Birds begin to sing.
And...
People mingling with each other.
No matter what the skin or the color.
I am not going to bide my time,
Shakened and awaiting on a meter...
'Cause,
I've never had it like that...
With time to sit back,
And to waste.
With people mingling with each other.
No matter what the skin or the color.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Waves And Foams On My Feet
when my feet steps on the sands
and pebbles of the shore
i feel the life
stood upon by my whole body
when the waves
come and go like a pendulum on
my legs
leaving some sea caps
and foam on the hair
i begin to understand
who i am,
arriving and yet not staying
going away and yet coming back
in a matter of time
between storms and
clear days, and i agree with
the seagulls singing about life
and fading in a distance
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Waves And Foams On My Feet (revised)
when my feet step on the sands
and pebbles of the shore
i feel the life
stood upon by my whole body
when the waves
come and go like a pendulum on
my legs
leaving some sea caps
and foam on the hair
i begin to understand
who i am,
arriving and yet not staying
going away and yet coming back
in a matter of time
between storms and
clear days, and i agree with
the seagulls singing about life
and fading in a distance
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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You get angry
You get angry
thats what death does
A light
A warmth on my face
The breeze through my hair
I smell the trees
You get angry
thats what death does
A heartbeat
A silent scream
Sinking
A coldness creeps in
Shadows dance in your eyes
You get angry
thats what death does
Not a death of the flesh
A death of the heart
The funeral of love
The welcoming of silence
Where you used to whisper...
I love you
poem by Lynzi Berner
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Pebble Justice
he picks up a pebble
and throws it into the sea
from a cliff
he asks: this is not a place
for pebbles
so this is not a pebble
i will return it to the sea
and be with the sands
and shells and
waves and winds
and seaweeds
and crabs
does he not wonder at all
if he has the power to decide where a pebble must be?
sometimes people assume so much
behaving like a god
must he think a little deeper and realize
that what is proper for the people is not proper for a pebble
that pebbles too have minds of their own
and who know if the same pebble to thinks
that the cliff is not the place of man
assuming to be its own god?
must he be considerate enough that pebbles too have
their own invisible feet
and well developed brains
and that when the man throws it into the sea
on the ground only of
impropriety
that the pebble may have objected it vehemently and could have
used its own hidden powers
but only that it did not show it
by reason of pity that this man
is so dumb
and so limited
in the flesh of its
own selfish
understanding?
does he not know that a pebble too demands respect
have privacy
and soon shall take its
inevitable revenge?
'bury mankind! they have thrown us away
without our consent' that is their clamor now
in their own
Pebble Court using their Pebble law
to be judged later
by their Pebble Magistrates.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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There Are Stories
there are stories and there will be more
coming next is the love story
between a crocodile and a
butterfly
did i not once tell you about the tragedy
of the ceiling and the floor?
oh, until now, they haven't really kissed
despite their pronounced
love for each other
with the walls as their sole witness
i have more stories for you to tell before you
finally leave
for that place called oblivion.
i wish i can rewrite the Arabian Nights
not in thousands but in millions now vis-a-vis this electronic technology
and there you are
listening like grass to the soil with all ears dipped flat on the pebbles
and the sands
i understand i will be your entertainer for the next hundred years
silly! but that is what we are meant to be
an old Spanish church where you are the head priest
beside a convent where someone's got to be a nun exempted from the age
of time.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Words Like Pebbles
Words like pebbles
Thrown down a pond
Will cause some ripples
That go around.
Words like pebbles
Never come back
They sink in people
That they attack.
Words can create
A thousand circles,
Pain resonates
As hurts unfurl.
Words released
Like pebbles drown;
The friendships cease
As they go down.
Hold your words
Hide your pebbles
You cannot afford
To cause the ripples.
The pond is calm
So be blessed
Be friendship's balm
Speak what is best.
'Reckless words pierce like a sword, but the tongue of the wise
brings healing.'
Proverbs 12: 18
-
Copyright Cynthia Buhain-Baello
Written May 11,2009 Tarlac City Philippines
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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My Friend You Must....
we always want to spend
Christmas on the beach
what is it that we want to be reminded of?
the sands?
yes what about the sand?
when we arrive there
the kids run to meet the sea with laughter
the sea breeze is salty yet cool
the trees are tall and big and shady
the silent sands are peopled now
we will be too busy with fun
feeling saved and going public with
all that happiness gives us
the silent sands look at us with a gaze
it has a record of the past
it has absorbed the memories of the sea
it looks at us with pity
what is it about the sands?
and their silence?
i think i know it
but my friend you must find it yourself.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Self-searching
we always want to spend
Independence Day on the beach
what is it that we want to be reminded of?
the sands? yes what about the sand?
the grains?
when we arrive there
the kids run to meet the sea with laughter
the sea breeze is salty yet cool
the trees are tall and big and shady
the silent sands are peopled now
we will be too busy with fun
feeling saved and going public with
all that happiness gives us
the silent sands look at us with a gaze
it has a record of the past
it has absorbed the memories of the sea
it looks at us with pity
what is it about the sands and their silence?
i think i know it but my friend you must find it yourself.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Stone Garden
in the middle of this
garden there are two rocks
one is smaller
around them are
pebbles and some scattered sands
what you plant here is
the seed of silence
tomorrow when you come back
you shall know what are its fruits
its leaves are not green and its
roots are for your liking
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Treasure
As children we're drawn to gold
And wonders of stories told
How riches are earned
Lessons are learned
And all ends well
And life is that simple game
When loves finally comes our way
And if we're naive
We can't help believe
We'll conquer it all
We've found the strongest love
And hope is in our eyes
Let's not take it for granted
All that we're feelin' tonight
Chorus I:
When bands of gold and diamonds
Finally lose their shine
And all the stars and glitter fade away
There's no way to measure
The chance it could last forever
But it's ours right now to treasure
On the way
Tonight all the streets are lined
In moonlight and silver twine
If we make a wish
There's no telling if
It's gonna survive
'Cause even the strongest love
Needs a little help along the way
Let's not take it for granted
By letting it all slip away
Chorus II:
When bands of gold and diamonds
Finally lose their shine
And all the stars and glitter fade away
There's no way to measure
The chance it could last forever
But it's ours right now to treasure
And I do treasure you
Yes I do
Chorus I:
When bands of gold and diamonds
Finally lose their shine
Gonna lose that shine
song performed by by 38 Special
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Finally The Laughter Reverberates Around The Four Corners Of The Room
..so finally
the sounds of laughter reigns in the room
listen!
it is mine, finally, and i do not ask
why you are as silent
as a path without a single traveler
the pebbles do not miss you
the sands are numb
the clouds are as white as snow
no signs of rain
nice weather, i suppose
sad times for you
mine shall be different
as planned beforehand
two days ago
i had that wrong notion
about death, i must confess
how foolish i had been!
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Willow Tree
Let me be your weeping willow tree
Surround you with my long limbs
My dear, let me grow in the shade
In the sands by the bank of your river
Let I drink from your streams
The cool breeze fill my leaves
We will sing together
Water over the pebbles
And Ill be by your side forever
I wish I was a weeping willow tree
I wish I was a weeping willow tree
I wish I was a weeping willow tree
Sweet river caress how softly
Stir my searching roots
Shading the sun in the summers heat
Let I cool you
We have been dancing so long
In the winters freeze and the summers drought
We survive
We belong
Let us sing together
Water over the pebbles
And Ill be by your side forever
I wish I was your weeping willow tree
I wish I was a weeping willow tree
I wish I was a weeping willow tree
Let us sing together
Water over the pebbles
And Ill be by your side forever
Let us sing together
Water over the pebbles
And Ill be by your side forever
We can sing together
Water over the pebbles
And Ill be by your side forever
Let me be
Your willow tree
Your willow tree
song performed by by G. Love & Special Sauce
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Don't Really Know When Will This End
this silence
when will this end, this silence between us at noon
a harsh noon, hot and humid, where i burn like a pile of wood in the forest
on a very cold night with you on the other side of the bed
facing the full moon and some shooting stars
this silence between us, when will this end when will the space
between our eyes
resolve the distance of the seasons night and day and summer and rain
i sleep on the bed alone on some scorpion thoughts biting one another
inflicting venoms that numb and even kill
and there you are rocking yourself on a chair making some sleep
like a concoction
of vodka and champagne teasing your eyes filled with tears
the soap on tv is busy with their stories of pain and twist and turns
i pray to end this silence so we can talk and
lay down the final plans
of our earthy longings some demarcations of pain and tolerance and
facts and conclusions
this wherefore and therefore finally
you turn off the tv, and you lay beside me touching my hand
i give in, i still miss you, and i think, the silence has come on the soft
wings of a butterfly for a brief flutter at the ceiling
looking at ourselves for another sweeter second time beginning
the cliche: love is sweeter the second time around is still written on the wall
how can i forget it
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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