Of Cottons And Feathers
cottons are found
on the floor
feathers on the table
from the window
the wind blows and carries them
inside
the bed is well kept
blankets carefully folded
and pillows removed
of creases
something inside me is as light
as cottons and feathers
something inside me is well folded now
like blankets
something in my heart are pillows
removed of
any crease
i triumphed i did it
now i can soundly sleep
as the wind from the window
blows me
into the land of dreams
where i can be
nothing but
just the spectator
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Weight of the Wind
The wind carries much more than we see
It carries a lot of what makes you and me
The wind blows and carries lies
Around the world it carries cries
We don't hear nor see any of these things
We don't know or feel what the wind brings
The wind carries the wishes and dreams
The wind carries promises down streams
On it lays our secrets we hold inside
Also the love for others we try to hide
It carries so much oh how I wish to know
With all that weight how can the wind blow?
poem by Mathew Welch
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The Witch In The Old Castle Nearby...
as you, foolish dog of my life,
my life in utter peace, a pond of less ripples,
as you, stupid dog of my life
barks at my feet, and tries to distract my own
solitude, that of the candle still in the middle
of my room, the blankets soft on my bed,
the pillows all too silent like flower petals
on a dew filled morning leaf,
as you, twitchy wicked witch
calls my name, i finally give up and
face myself, and leave you, all cracked up,
and i go inside my room and lock my door
and tell my windows, to shut you up,
do not ruin my life, do not ever attempt to do
that which creases my blankets and
stabs my pillows,
for i shall return to you and burn your
furrowed faces, dissolve you in the acids
of my test tubes,
erase you like some misspelled words,
i am a man of peace, and i am stone.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Making Our Own Space
this morning i wake up late
i see misplaced things
lots of it, like dirty clothes
on the floor
unwashed dishes on the sink
blankets unfolded
pillow cases removed from
their pillows
unzipped pants
missing underwear
tumbled glass
spilled milk on the table
dogs waiting to be bathed and feed
i stand up to get my empty plate
take three spoonfuls of steam rice
and two pieces of fish
a cup of coffee and i go out of the house
sit on a bench under a tree
sunshine above me and air breezing on my chest
i eat alone
and something's good is growing inside me
i love it this way
my own space of peace
amidst disorder
my capacity to choose
what i do
despite the negligence of
others around me
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Wind From... Elsewhere
The wind blows here... the wind blows there
The wind seems to blow from... everywhere.
But the wind I love... when it blows... blows fair...
This wind... when it blows... blows from... ELSEWHERE! Can you see its graceful fingers... playing in your hair?
Nay! You cannot see the wind... e'en though you know it's there.
It's flitting... it's flirting... it's prancing everywhere
This wind... when it blows... blows from... ELSEWHERE! It blows unexpectedly... with a gentle breeze... it blows...
The Great Hand of Miracles... brings it... then it goes
To greet the early morning sun... to dance to and fro
From the highest, loftiest mountain heights... to valleys... far below. 'Who is He that sitteth upon the circle of the earth...
Who gathereth the winds in his fists—Who maketh a wind to pass over...
Thou hearest the sound thereof...
But canst not tell whence it cometh... and wither it goeth.' The wind blows here... the wind blows there...
The wind seems to blow... from everywhere.
But the wind I love... when it blows... blows fair—
This wind... when it blows... blows from... ELSEWHERE!
poem by Elga Haymon White
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As the cold wind blows
As the cold wind blows
I smile and laugh
As the cold wind blows
Im warm and safe
As the cold wind blows
The fire inside is hot
As the cold wind blows
My love is not for naught
As the cold wind blows
My love keeps me warm
As the cold wind blows
I feel only this love
Warming me making me
The man I am today
As the cold wind blows
I know soon this cold wind will blow away.
poem by Troy Nichols
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It Is Our Duty
it is our duty
despite the pains inside our hearts
we still must
stand with dignity
the heart has its own
territory
its own chambers where
we keep our emotions
burning
carefully that these
may not burn us
we keep eye
on what is going to happen
to the future places
where we must
take rest
we are now living
under the most
ordinary sun
a common day
of our senses
as we go on touching
the body of life
now it is time
to land to keep
our wings folded
at our backs
as simply as i must
face you
under the white feathers
of my wings
my pure heart
shall sleep
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Wendell Gee
Thats when wendell gee takes a tug
Upon the string that held the line of trees
Behind the house he lived in
He was reared to give respect
But somewhere down the line he chose
To whistle as the wind blows
Whistle as the wind blows, with me
He had a dream one night
That the tree had lost its middle
So he built a trunk of chicken wire
To try to hold it up
But the wire, the wire turned to lizard skin
And when he climbed inside
There wasnt even time to say
Goodbye to wendell gee
So whistle as the wind blows
Whistle as the wind blows, with me
If the wind were colors
And if the air could speak
Then whistle as the wind blows
Whistle as the wind blows
song performed by by REM
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Couple
he wakes up on
a vivid nightmare
the way he crosses
the river against the
rage of the tide and
he sees her sleeping
and he wakes her up
and she listens about
the sound of the river
and the thunder and
the wind and the
flashes of lightning
inside his frightened
mind and she holds his
hands and raises them
for her to kiss and then
they talk like lovers again
and then they make love
sleep is as gentle as
the silky bedsheets and
the soft cotton pillows
on the monotony of the
sound of the air conditioned
room. And then it is morning
she opens the window
where a pale red curtain
filters the light that lands
on his eyes still soundly asleep.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Door Between Two Worlds
this the door between our two worlds
it divides the inside and the outside
the light and the darkness
the choice is yours
there is no lock
there is only the hinge that holds the door to its place
when you open it
there is no sound
and when you close it
there is only this silence of the air sealed inside our minds
my heart does not sing inside
it is muted by the darkness that moment your gentle hands
close the door
it is patient, the mind
the incompatibilities of the things outside us
are too inviting
they tempt us to step outside and promise us
the magical wonders of freedom
we feel so light like our joys like cottons and clouds
they are no different from our wishes
i am in the middle of this door between us
& you look at me like i am the last man of this earth
your heart opens with eyes too careful not to know
what i do next is the suspense of this uncertainty
your eyes close, my heart bleeds
my hands wilt, your mind wanders like a lost wind
the door closes finally
walling us in
it locks upon itself and
the world sleeps soundly curling its feet on the beds of the
heavens
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Blankets
Some blankets are thin
that cover the poor.
They're lucky to have them.
They sleep on the floor.
No pillow to sleep on
to cradle their head,
nothing to sleep on
that's called a bed.
Some blankets are downy
that cover the rich.
No shivering at night
in their warm little niche.
Their heads have been cradled
since they were born.
They sleep in comfort
all cozy and warm.
Some blankets are heavy.
They weigh you down.
You can't move your toes
or wriggle them around.
You lay there quite still
and wrestle with thought.
You think of blankets
that are light.
and if the poor
will be alright?
poem by Edwina Reizer
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When The Wind Blows
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
In my mind i see,
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
This is an emergency.
In a part of this once-great city
Stands a child crying out in pity.
Gone is hope in the heart of each hungry hour.
Every year in this land of plenty
There are millions of starving children
What will i say if they look my way?
This is an emergency.
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
In my mind i see,
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
This is an emergency.
Bow your heads to the lost generation
Scars so deep, bringing god's damnation.
Businessmen sip wine while congress argue.
But for grace we enjoy our pleasures
What we face will be our salvation
Go build your towns, but remember time will not forget
That this is an emergency.
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
This is an emergency.
Think of what the wise men said.
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
In my mind i see,
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
In my mind i see,
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
This is an emergency.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Burning Inside
Will these dreams still follow me,
On of dark obscurity?
Cant you see it up in the sky
As it kicks you in the face and lets you dye
You never have the answers
And now you tell me the facts of life
I really couldnt be bothered with you
Get out of my face and watch me die
Burning inside!burning inside!
Absolution and a frozen room
Are dreams of men below
I try to grab it but the touch is hot
The mirrors collapses, but the image can not
Im scared of darkness in a light
I scare myself cause I know Im right
I see the evil in youre savage eye
As it cuts right through the sky
Burning inside!burning inside!burning inside!burning inside!burning
Inside!burning inside!burning inside!burning inside!
Calling the mantra with a blade in the skin
For the demons within
I feel the pain is the death and decay
But the lesson never fades away
Too little shadows, turn away
Another man through the window pane
Another slave and a victim of fate
Another lesson in hate
Burning inside! burning inside!burning inside!burning inside!burning
Inside!burning inside!burning inside!burning inside!
song performed by by Ministry
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sensual Night With Sense
you lay with some memories
your eyes fix on the ceiling
where images
begin to dance
like some fairies
with silk hair
and gossamer wings
you tire
with fairy tales and fantasies
you begin
a more mature approach
with your longings
inside this
empty room
for the night
where your waiting
for her
has become another
failure
you close your eyes
and look inside them
you hug your own
body with your
own arms
you bury yourself
on soft blankets
and pillows
you submerge
in ecstasy
your heart
throbbing
like crazy
and then
a raindrop
begins
to fall from
inside your
pains
falling
on the mountain
of your groin
you dropp dead
eyes closed
the pain
disappears
like some clouds
blown away
by this new wind
of coping up
and learning
with sense
sensuality
in automation
a flood of emotions
rush
to oblivion
tomorrow you wake
up and face a new
day again
they say you are a mature
person living life
that way it should be lived
coping up
self-automated
no misery seeking company
just being alone,
strong, and not needing help
from anyone.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Allemande
Allemande, where have you gone?
Did I know anything about you?
Many moons have come and gone
They wane so easily without you
All along I said we'd be sorry
Sorry, and so we are
But ain't that the way that
The way that the wind blows
And ain't that the way that
The way that the wind blows
And ain't that the way that
The way that the wind blows you home?
Sorry, sorry, and so we are
Allemande, your face so long
And all my silly hopes hung on you
All along I said we'd be sorry
Sorry, and so we are
And ain't that the way that
The way that the wind blows
And ain't that the way that
The way that the wind blows
And ain't that the way that
The way that the wind blows you home?
Sorry, sorry, and so we are
Oh, the way that the wind blows you home
Sorry, sorry, and so we are
song performed by by Keane
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Past, The Present And The Future
a blanket is neatly folded
and kept inside a cabinet
you wake up, open a window
and you see the road leading to an endless horizon
you go downstairs
sit on the floor and listen to the sound of the day
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Wild Wind
There is a place the spirit goes
Where the wild wind blows,
Where none are bound
And only freedom to love is found -
A spot of the soul
Where dreams alone can go,
To wildly spin
Upon this moving wind -
A far off land
Way ahead of man,
Where the breeze of eternity blows
And the life from God forever flows -
Into the heart
That's been torn apart,
Comes this wild Wind,
To take, and to heal, to love, and to feel, again and again.
poem by Smoky Hoss
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Life In Her Creaking Shoes
Life in her creaking shoes
Goes, and more formal grows,
A round of calls and cues:
Love blows as the wind blows.
Blows! . . . in the quiet close
As in the roaring mart,
By ways no mortal knows
Love blows into the heart.
The stars some cadence use,
Forthright the river flows,
In order fall the dews,
Love blows as the wind blows:
Blows! . . . and what reckoning shows
The courses of his chart?
A spirit that comes and goes,
Love blows into the heart.
poem by William Ernest Henley
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The Seed of a Dandelion
My life is like a seed of a dandelion
It flies wherever the wind blows
Looking for the salvation
The land where I can land on
I will follow wherever the wind blows
I will fly if there are tomorrows
I will land to my bed of nest
The place where I go to rest
But if the wind drops me in the river
The river of pains and tears
I will force myself along the current
To find a land in the orient
If the wind will blow me again
The wind will blow me to the end
If I will go and die in this ride
I hope all the pain will subside
If the wind will dropp me in the land
The humus land where I can stand
I will go to sleep in peace
And will wait for morning kisses
_ Dustin S. Catingub
poem by Dustin Catingub
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Caution...
you pretend that sleep is your friend
but sleep is honest enough to admit that there is something wrong
with the bed
the blankets are talking and the pillows
are protesting
your hairs are mad
your eyes as usual do not tell the lies
that your mouth and tongue have long mastered
and the teeth that grit
knows who at the end
shall win
your mind is not a friend of anyone
its insomnia the heart fears
can kill anyone
it is time to be cautious
wear the feet of the cat
perhaps be silent like the
floor.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Frances 6
at the end of the day what thoughts shall i keep
what thoughts shall i discard
what to forget what to remember
at the end of the day when we see each other again
dine together on this carved dining table
and steady mahogany chairs
sleep together in bed on thick blankets and soft pillows
then you lower the mosquito nets
we are both feeling buried
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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