Of Things Not Words
a puppy
beside a door
on a rag
a dung of
termites
outside
magnolias
are blooming
a snake escapes
from summer
heat
on the thicket
of moist grass
the green turtle
nothing depends
on someone
else
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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My Turtle Use to Rush!
You taught my turtle how to walk on a leash.
When you babysat my turtle.
But now my turtle's mood,
Has become distant and cranky.
My beloved turtle now gives me shifty looks.
And I know with me it's angry.
Since the babysitter I picked and booked.
When my turtle use to hear me turn the key,
At the front door.
My turtle use to rush to me.
But no more!
You've got my turtle trained to believe,
It needs a leash...
To eat with me Chinese.
And I use to love how my turtle ate Wonton.
But from within its shell...
All it does is just peek on.
When my turtle use to hear me turn the key,
At the front door.
My turtle use to rush to me.
But no more!
My turtle use to rush!
But!
No,
More!
My turtle use to rush!
But!
No,
More!
My turtle use to rush!
But!
No,
More to me.
My turtle use to rush!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Green Thicket
All in a green thicket I heard a bird sing,
And blithe though his song was it made the tears spring,
To hear a bird sing as he swung on his spray,
All in a green thicket at break of the day.
All in a green thicket his song it did pour
That told of the Springs that shall come nevermore,
That sang of sweet blossoms, now faded and dry,
All in a green thicket in Aprils gone by.
All in a green thicket that morning in Spring,
I smelt the sharp scent of each young growing thing,
I smelt the sweet herbage all drowned with the dew,
And the time that's gone from me was with me anew.
All in a green thicket at break of the day
It was like the dear voice of a friend far away,
It was like the kind touch of a hand that I know,
And the smile and the tears of dead Aprils ago,
All in a green thicket one morning in Spring,
For to smell the young woodland and hear the bird sing,
Oh, long did I loiter and dream by the way,
All in a green thicket at break of the day.
poem by Cicely Fox Smith
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Heat Of Summer, Heated Love.
Summer's heat can swelter and melt...
As summer's heat may simmer as weld.
Some summer's heat can burn as long...
This summer's heat can impel a song.
Summer's heat can cook and bake...
Summer's heat of life can take.
Boil and broil a heart so hot...
A summer's heat can break that romanceful knot.
This heat of summer can smoulder and rot.
Anger's heat, heats up my libido's furnace...
This love of summer can invoke to heart, a loving furnish.
Love of summer brings to mind, a resurgance of love...
Summer's sun may bathe one and all with heat fro' above.
Summer's heat can bring to beaches and swimming pools...
Visions of women in bikinied thongs, these things my eyes do love.
poem by Michael Gale
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Power
power has built itself
permanently on citadels
you, an ant, cannot take
the place of
their monuments,
look for wood, conspire
with the friendship of the
termites,
the timid worms,
live on dungs, and
begin the song of sorrow
time listens
the storm comes,
tsunamis multiply,
earthquakes, and
floods,
you, the ant, takes only a leaf
to survive,
a grain of rice
will be too much,
a dew for survival,
soon the citadels of power
crushes to the ground
including the king and queen
and their servants,
they all rot,
and you, the ant,
and termites long hiding
on rotten wood,
and worms surviving
on the humus of dung
shall build
for a beginning,
a hill, a path,
a throne of dung.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Puppy In A Cup
Have a cup of puppy,
Puppy in a cup.
Brown and slightly sugary,
Puppy in a cup.
Warm, soft and cuddly,
Puppy in a cup.
Don't drink the puppy, silly,
Just pick the puppy up!
In the summer heat
In the summer heat
a dry mouth i got seeking for your lips
In the summer heat
death silence surrounds my heart beat
In the summer heat
a song of love i whistle just for you
In the summer heat
i let my hopes to see the sun
In the summer heat
i see your eyes like never before
sparkling in the sun
calling to be adored again
by your crazy poet.
poem by George Tzouvaras
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The Cause of Enmity between Snake and Man
Snake, the first owner of fire.
Dog, the robber of fire.
Man the last owner of fire.
The snake gave birth first to fire.
Thus fire, the first born of snake.
Thus snake, only owner of fire long ago.
One cold evening
The man dying of coldness
The dog seen it master dying of coldness
It went to snake house and begged
The snake, the mother of fire to let
It tail get warm of fire
The snake cordially welcomed the dog
The dog twisted it tail on fire
The tail caught the fire
The dog jumped over the snake in door
Ran quickly to it master, the man
The man took the grass and wood
And lit up the fire
The fire lit up in man’s house
And it extinguished in snake’s house
The snake come to get fire back
But the man attack the snake
The hostility between man and snake
Began then
poem by David Aoloch Bion
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Journey With Animals
Child: Lion, Lion, do you know
Where is your den?
Lion: Yes, I know
My den is straight to the jungle
Child: Deer, Deer, what you
Eat for dinner?
Deer: I eat grass,
Green grass
Child: Rabbit, Rabbit,
What do you do?
Rabbit: I jump and jump
Till my house reach
Child: Turtle, Turtle, when enemy comes
What you will do?
Turtle: I will keep my head
Inside the shell
Child: Thank you animal friends
For answering my questions.
--------
By: Sansita Ramachandran
poem by Sansita Ramachandran
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The Mountain And The Snake
a long black yellow snake with stripes
arrives hissing
looking for a prey
a rat perhaps
but there is none
not even an ant for a snack
and so the long black yellow snake with stripes of green
slides its way to a dark, moist cave
tight on its door
pushing its long slimy body
to the tip of the
cave's orifice to the end of its
intestine
it was a good tickle
and the whole body of the mountain
gives a tremble
a moan and from the slits of its sides
to the tip of its feet
and toes and trees
the whole body of the mountain
moans
happy with the long slimy body of the
snake's skin and bone.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Plaything
The black snake
Hiding in the grass
The black snake
So frightening
The black snake
That wouldn’t let me pass
Was a toy snake
Of a little boy
A toy snake
That was all it was
A toy snake
Left there in the grass
A small toy
Of a little boy
That a little girl
Should have enjoyed
© 2009 Sonya Florentino
poem by Sonya Florentino
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Stinging Reply - 1915 - to Ogden Nash The Termite, Harry Graham Ruthless Rhymes and Hilaire Belloc
When termites knocked upon ants' door
they thought to conquer larval store;
how lucky vicious fire ant queen
nested above poor Auntie Jean,
for when upon the latter's bed
it fell and stung her quick and dead.
Her Will, found sound, Judge Jonas swore
that I'd inherit more and more!
From this one may gay moral glean,
auspicious chance and pastures green
fall to man mean who plans ahead,
blind termites leads to where ants bred.
(9 September 2009)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Little green turtle
You are fed up
of being A little green turtle,
Wanting to fly
Seeing the clouds in the skies
Drifting,
Pray for nature to change you
Extend your tail much longer like
The braided hair of Rapunzel,
Get off the house
above you
And be a little bigger than
what turtles are supposed to be
And nothing greenish now,
Little green turtle
You can be white & flimsy
and even taller
On some cellophane wings
On longer swinging paper tails
On a proposed compromise
Of becoming a summer kite
Inanimate
But steadily flying by a strong string
Wherever the boy is pulling
That is where you are going
Do You still like it?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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51
You are fed up
of being A little green turtle,
Wanting to fly
Seeing the clouds in the skies
Drifting,
Pray for nature to change you
Extend your tail much longer like
The braided hair Of rapunzel,
Get off the house
above you
And be a little bigger than
what turtles are supposed to be
And nothing greenish now,
Little green turtle
You can be white & flimsy
and even taller
On some cellophane wings
On a longer paper swinging tail
On a proposed compromise
Of become a summer kite
Inanimate
but steadily flying by a strong string
with a boy pulling
wherever you go
You still want it?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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So Much Depends As I Once Remember It Then
so much depends
upon a swirl
of paints
of yellow
and green
and violet
so much depends
upon the silence
of the plow
so much depends
upon the farmer
still
so much depends
upon your
vanishment.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Animal Funerals, 1964
That summer, we did not simply walk through
the valley of the shadow of death; we set up camp there,
orchestrating funerals for the anonymous,
found dead: a drowned mole—its small, naked palms
still pink—a crushed box turtle, green snake, even
a lowly toad. The last and most elaborate
of the burials was for a common jay,
identifiable but light and dry,
its eyes vacant orbits. We built a delicate
lichgate of willow fronds, supple, green—laced
through with chains of clover. Straggling congregation,
we recited what we could of the psalm
about green pastures as we lowered the shoebox
and its wilted pall of dandelions into the shallow
grave one of us had dug with a serving spoon.
That afternoon, just before September and school,
when we would again become children, and blind
to all but the blackboard's chalky lessons, the back
of someone's head, and what was, for a while longer,
the rarer, human death—there, in the heat-shimmered
trees, in the matted grasses where we stood,
even in the slant of humid shade—
we heard wingbeat, slither, buzz, and birdsong—
a green racket rising to fall as though
in a joyous dirge that was real,
and not part of our many, necessary rehearsals
poem by Claudia Emerson
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Green, green and green
I want a holiday with a scene
Of green, green and green
A summer of green trees
A landscape of green grass
A view full of green vegetables
The colour green
Is a beauty that must be seen!
From a moving vehicles screen
And while we hold onto those machines
That deprives us of the colour green
Remember they provide us vaccines
As well as help the air to be clean
So for green, green and green
I will travel continents across and in-between
And also to any place that I have never been
I will make it routine
Just to see green, green and green
Copyright 2006 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Collected Verses On Summer
1 Summer is hot all around
Trilling on a grass tip
A bit of breeze snared
2 So so is even tasty food
Sour turns even fresh milk
To summer-scorch all abound
3 Ring of fire east to west
On bon voyage set ablaze
Ice-cream, soda all cool blest
4 Summer heat is prickling heat
Rashing salving prickles all
Sunscreen on scene clean and neat
5 Tonsured, shortened..summer style
Summer-cut to head's convenience
Ruling head's power cut..ruling style
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Grass
The world is all one smother of grass,
Waves of it rolling deep and green,
Clothing the paddocks’ gentle slope,
Laughing the brown tree-trunks between.
And some are praising the brilliant flowers,
The beauty of foliage as they pass,
But I am drinking its glory in
And thanking the Lord for grass, for grass!
The air is a-murmur with rippling sound
From jubilant creeks long fed with rain,
Singing of drought and travail past
And a bounteous earth drown young again-
An earth that is telling its thankfulness
With passionate rapture too deep for words
In acres and acres of waving grass,
Haven of promise to starving herds.
There’s a tangle of bloom in its moist green shade,
Mottled yam-flowers and gentians blue,
Small white stars that are honey sweet,
And nodding bluebells all drenched with dew.
And oh! The breath of its incense rare
As the summer breezes over it pass,
My heart is thrilling with voiceless prayer
And thanking the Giver of things for grass.
poem by Alice Guerin Crist
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Loneliness
Have you seen
How loneliness
Gnaws at you
Like termites
In a wooden
Body…
You are
Not an
Old piece
Of furniture
That can be
Replaced -
With a body
New.
So,
Helplessly
Hopelessly
You let the
Termites…
Chew into you.
On second thoughts
Even if you had -
A body refreshed
And new, wouldn't
Those termites…
Still find you?
After all,
As long as
You live,
Loneliness
Lives with you.
It's only those
In between
Fillers of
*Joyous*
Excitement
That come
Visiting you,
But they soon
Bid you adieu.
Loneliness
Stays.
It's your
Lifelong
Enemy.
It whips you
Haunts you…
Threatens you
Bullies you.
You try
Scaring it away.
It never
Leaves you.
It thrives
Within you
Like a termites'
Colony and keeps
Eating into you…
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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Mountain Tops
sunrise in the moutain tops
green grass all over the place
and the trees are not just green
but they glitter under the rays
wind blows and coldness in the skin
there is joy
there is pain
in the eyes, but
it is thy happiness still that shows
for a moment
forgetting the world
which is more real
that is not a question
no rain or snow
weather may change
but not withered leaf
can stop flowers from blooming
sunrise in the mountain tops
green grass all over the place
poem by Princess Kathleene Gabunales
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