En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Of Simple Things

how do the leaves
cling to the stem? look at them
the wind plays
and not one from the pebbles
dream of falling

the ants keep the hauling
the grasshoppers sing notes
to the sky
that looks down with out so
much sophistication
no streamers
nothing of the band
wagon type

of bare feet that rests
on soft white sands
of the straw hat that covers
the eyes
inward inward
there is really no complication
there is only
this chosen nook
and there one gently sleeps

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Traveling Wind

I feel a breeze of wind
It is as soft as a baby
It travels along the land
It comforts the grass that beetles, ants, and grasshoppers make their way through
Ants continue to make their home that is only but dirt to humans
Dirt to ants is a brick to build a home
The breeze of wind continues to travel
The black and orange bird looks for food
It chirps around
It pecks in the grass
The bird finally travels away along with the wind
All is quiet but the crying of the leaves that are sticking out of the ground
Their hands, which are thorns, are reaching out to be comforted
The traveling wind goes and comforts them
Th wind travels elsewhere

poem by Pamela Mote
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After Storm

Was there a wind? Tap… tap… Night pads upon the snow with moccasined feet… and it is still… so still… an eagle's feather might fall like a stone. Could there have been a storm… mad-tossing golden mane on the neck of the wind… tearing up the sky… loose-flapping like a tent about the ice-capped stars?

Cool, sheer and motionless
the frosted pines
are jeweled with a million flaming points
that fling their beauty up in long white sheaves
till they catch hands with stars.
Could there have been a wind
that haled them by the hair….
and blinding
blue-forked
flowers of the lightning
in their leaves?
Tap… tap…
slow-ticking centuries…
Soft as bare feet upon the snow…
faint… lulling as heard rain
upon heaped leaves….
Silence
builds her wall
about a dream impaled.

poem by Lola Ridge
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Worker Ants

Worker Ants

Parallel along the path I followed an ant track.
I joined the ants, there were many all carrying
bits of straw so I picked up a piece of dry straw,
and man was it heavy. The other ants laughed
said will get the hang of it in time, soon you’ll
be able to carry two. Maybe four too, I rashly
said. No, that will break your back.

I kept falling behind as I timidly scanned the air
for predatory sparrows and wondered if rabbits
eat ants. Where their track ends by a hole, their
home, I threw my burden to the ground and
jumped back on to my own path. Hard work kills
the soul, and all you get at the end of it is cheap
pocket watch.

poem by Oskar Hansen
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Mozart Overture

this is quite different from
a trance
the music that curled in my sleep
on that soft blue sofa
foam, cotton, kapok softness
on my head some notes of
a lullaby
some notes getting into
my ears and my nostrils
a deep sleep
inhaling

this overture is quite different
it is the rising from this deep sleep of
kapok,
foamy softness

i rise and
stretch my hands to the ceiling

i wake up and
i hear
the notes come again like
dripping morning rain
from the nipa roof
falling on
some white pebbles
on my pavement

like my tears

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Dream Of Olwen

we like to be in their gossamer world
leaves falling like the notes of this classical music
riding with the wind and making this world so light and
pleasing to the senses
the ears that hear the dance of the flowers
the eyes that see the breaths of the buds

i have new feet i have new dreams now
the dream of Olwen

i am dancing i am stretching my hands in praise
to life! to eternity! to sweet memories!

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Mellow Autumn

Autumns rich mellow flavoured air
Unmasked, the trees are now bare.

Seldom do we hear the birds sing
When the Autumn leaves are falling.

Smoke trails from the burning leaves
Carried on the light cool breeze.

The scent of spiced apple days
In the suns golden haze.

The Pine towering heavenly high
Dropping fragrances on passres by.

Smell the crisp refreshing air
Wind is blowing everywhere.

The leaves they scatter without sound
Gently cascading to the ground.

© Hazel

poem by Hazel Connelly
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118

mozart overture

this is quite different from
a trance
the music that curled in my sleep
on that soft blue sofa
foam, cotton, kapok softness
on my head some notes of
a lullaby
some notes getting into
my ears and my nostrils
a deep sleep
inhaling

this overture is quite different
it is the rising from this deep sleep of
kapok,
foamy softness

i rise and
stretch my hands to the ceiling

i wake up and
i hear
the notes come again like
dripping morning rain
from the nipa roof
falling on
some white pebbles
on my pavement

like my tears

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wind in the trees for Friend Thad

The winds play haunting melodies
Upon the branches of bare trees
From which they pluck the notes they seek.
Each composition is unique.

The music that the wind can play
is different in every way.
From any score that humans write.
Holds me entranced in sheer delight.

Soft sad laments which seem to be
expressing sorrow endlessly
But these sad notes can segue into
a lively beat so you want to

Clap your hands and tap your feet
entranced by the hypnotic beat.
The music changes constantly
a show of virtuosity

That doesn’t need an audience
Although some times I seem to sense
that is playing just for me
To which I listen gratefully

It plays the tunes that suit my mood
as if the wind well understood
I'm sometimes happy sometimes sad
depending on the day I’ve had.

I know quite well the wind is free
and is not playing just for me.
It does no harm if I pretend
the wind regards me as a friend.

Although it has no reason to
I think perhaps it might be true
I am content to listen to
its haunting music so I do.

26-Oct-08 http; // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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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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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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The Cosmic Orchestra

With the break of dawning day,
The feathered folks greet the world,
In resonant notes of alluring songs,
They fill the hearts with rapturous glee.

Far or near a church bell sings,
Vibrant notes of chiming verse,
It floats around in rambling waves,
Urging the world to wake and work.

On fluttering wings the gentle breeze,
Comes down, to tickle the tender leaves,
Together do they sing and dance,
In delightful chorus to thrill the hearts.

Later sometime the falling rain,
Sings a song in rhythmic notes,
With rising strains and falling lilts,
The music goes on high and low.

Far away from mountain slopes,
Flow down, narrow glistening streams,
Spiralling over pebbles and rocks,
They muse a melody so sweet to hear.

As the setting Sun in Western sky,
Paints the clouds in crimson shades,
‘The frayed nerves' stroll to the beach,
To feast on the song of surging waves.

When darkness spreads and wraps the earth,
Beasts and birds - they together sing,
The Grand Finale to the Great Concert,
Played in league with the Cosmic Band.

Music hides in every heart,
Its celestial strains nourish the lives,
Tune it right with prudent care,
Lest it die in the cacophony of sounds.

poem by Valsa George
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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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Big, Wide, White Soft Pillow On My Bed Tonight

big, wide, white soft pillows
on my bed tonight
my head rests for a while
as i wait for you
on this kind of lovely game

my fingers are tired and there they
are fainting with my hands
my eyes are closing like the windows
of the houses in the village
lights turning off like fireflies
getting some sleep on treetops

some locks of my hair fall on the the white
linens where my body lies
like a mountain on the grasy plain

white soft pillows on my bed
my conscience sleeps like a fat man drunk and dead asleep
on the thick warm pastel blue mattress
not hearing the loudness of his snores

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Baby Running Barefoot

When the bare feet of the baby beat across the grass
The little white feet nod like white flowers in the wind,
They poise and run like ripples lapping across the water;
And the sight of their white play among the grass
Is like a little robin’s song, winsome,
Or as two white butterflies settle in the cup of one flower
For a moment, then away with a flutter of wings.

I long for the baby to wander hither to me
Like a wind-shadow wandering over the water,
So that she can stand on my knee
With her little bare feet in my hands,
Cool like syringa buds,
Firm and silken like pink young peony flowers.

poem by David Herbert Lawrence
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I Had A Dream

(copyright nazareth,tiflis tunes,inc.-ascap)
I had a dream
I had a dream
I saw the mission band,playing on the green
It was the saddest thing,i have ever seen
What did it mean,what did it all mean?
And in my dream,in my same dream
I saw the soldiers marching,on the green
The band played a funeral march
Many a tear was seen
All in my dream,all in my dream
Lead
I heard the lesson read,i heard the choir
I saw the falling leaves,landing everywhere
I saw the family gathered,crying in despair
I was not there,i was not there

song performed by by Nazareth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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For Baby (For Bobbie)

Ill walk in the rain by your side
Ill cling to the warmth of your hand
Ill do anything to keep you satisfied
Ill love you more than anybody can
And the wind will whisper your name to me
Little birds will sing along in time
Leaves will bow down when you walk by
And morning bells will chime
Ill be there when youre feelin down
To kiss away the fears if you cry
Ill share with you all the happiness Ive found
A reflection of the love in your eyes
And Ill sing you the songs of the rainbow
A whisper of the joy that is mine
And leaves will bow down when you walk by
And morning bells will chime
Ill walk in the rain by your side
Ill cling to the warmth of your tiny hand
Ill do anything to help you understand
And Ill love you more than anybody can
And the wind will whisper your name to me
Little birds will sing along in time
Leaves will bow down when you walk by
And morning bells will chime

song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Tramp

He sleeps alone in the damp
And rests his head upon a door
The only bed he knows is the floor,
The tramp
Turned up collar and worn out shoes
He doesnt care cause he hasnt got nothing to lose
He sleeps alone in the damp
And rests his head upon a door
The only bed he knows is the floor,
The tramp
No companion to take him home
His only friends are the kind that just leave him alone
No one knows just how lonely his life has been
In a world that lives in a dream
He sleeps alone in the damp
And rests his head upon a door
The only bed he knows is the floor,
The tramp

song performed by by Cat Stevens
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Stepping Into Something New This Summer

white sea spreading before me
so silky
tiny ripples of the wind
from a far
bringing some stories
from the other island

some leaves fall from
the pitogo tree
some flowers pink and white
lay on the shore

white sands of silence
and peace
soft whispers of the winds
seeping in my skin
i am barefoot
i am naked down to the waist
i am waiting
for the sun to descend upon the bosom
of the horizon
i am dreaming of palm trees
soft winds
of summer

a door opens in my mind
i get in
stepping into something new this summer

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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By The Arno

THE oleander on the wall
Grows crimson in the dawning light,
Though the grey shadows of the night
Lie yet on Florence like a pall.

The dew is bright upon the hill,
And bright the blossoms overhead,
But ah! the grasshoppers have fled,
The little Attic song is still.

Only the leaves are gently stirred
By the soft breathing of the gale,
And in the almond-scented vale
The lonely nightingale is heard.

The day will make thee silent soon,
O nightingale sing on for love!
While yet upon the shadowy grove
Splinter the arrows of the moon.

Before across the silent lawn
In sea-green mist the morning steals,
And to love's frightened eyes reveals
The long white fingers of the dawn

Fast climbing up the eastern sky
To grasp and slay the shuddering night,
All careless of my heart's delight,
Or if the nightingale should die.

poem by Oscar Wilde
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When The Leaves Come Falling Down

I saw you standing with the wind and the rain in your face
And you were thinking bout the wisdom of the leaves and their grace
When the leaves come falling down
In september when the leaves, come falling down
And at night the moon is shining on a clear, cloudless sky
And when the evening shadows fall Ill be there by your side
When the leaves come falling down
In september when the leaves, come falling down
Follow me down, follow me down, follow me down
To the place beside the garden and the wall
Follow me down, follow me down
To the space before the twilight and the dawn
Oh, the last time I saw paris in the streets, in the rain
And as I walk along the boulevards with you, once again
And the leaves come falling down
In september, when the leaves come falling down
Follow me down, follow me down, follow me down
To the place between the garden and the wall
Follow me down, follow me down
To the space between the twilight and the dawn
And as Im looking at the colour of the leaves, in your hand
As were listening to chet baker on the beach, in the sand
When the leaves come falling down,
Woe in september, when the leaves come falling down
Oh when the leaves come falling down
Yeah in september when the leaves come falling down
When the leaves come falling down
In september, when the leaves come falling down
When the leaves come falling down in september, in the rain
When the leaves come falling down
When the leaves come falting down in september, in the rain
When the leaves come falling down

song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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