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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Related quotes
Poetess
now that you have awakened from the deep slumber
you shall rise and meet this bright morning
do you see the sun rising from the thighs of the mountain?
do you hear the songs of birds from the mouths of the caves?
do you see how the trees dance to the caresses of the winds?
do you feel the coolness of the dew hanging on the blades of grass
as they all touch the soles of your feet?
they have been waiting for you
they are the images of your poetry
they are the symbols of your greatness
my dear poetess, how can you ever stop writing the words?
how can you ever stop to sing the songs of beauty?
how can you ever deny the true nature of your being?
my dear poetess, you must begin to write again
in all these, you shall not die.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Shall She Throw Then The Apple Of Discord?
out there is the calm
and the harmony of the leaves
and the grass
the silence of the ants and
the privacy of the worms
she does not like this
she needs the chaos to divert the
lulling ennui
that will soon numb and kill her
and so she climbs the only living
tree at the center of this paradise
gets the only apple
that she throws under the trees
beside the grass and flowers
and then the discord starts to unfold
now she watches all of them in their
domestic wars
the trees shake the leaves
and the worms are eating the barks
and the ants are building their empires
on sands
simply because they have turned
the blind eye the deaf ear
the gaps of communication bore
the holes of pandemonium
she sits and weaves herself a bandanna
now she is ready to go
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Your Dance My Love
you are so beautiful when you start to dance
when all the leaves fall off from your arms
naked, i have seen everything that your earth has to offer:
your hills and trees and forest, your creeks and rivers,
your clouds and seas, your grass and flowers
i have seen them all and touched them
your hills i have climbed
your trees with sweet fruits
i have gathered them all
and bit and sucked and savored each sap and juice
its flesh and fiber
i have slept on your grass
i have smelled your flowers
i have gazed on your clouds and have taken the dive
on your seas
i have sailed on your rivers
i have bathed on your creeks
i have done everything for you to please you my love
yet why are your eyes so sad tonight?
you are like a moon fading in the dark
you are like the song of a bird dissolving in distance.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Im Stepping Out
Woke up this morning blues around my head
No need to ask the reason why
Went to the kitchen and lit a cigarette
Blew my worries to the sky
Im stepping out
Im stepping out
Im stepping out
Im stepping out
If it dont feel right you dont have to do it
Just leave a message on the phone and tell them to screw it
After all is said and done you cant go pleasin everyone
So screw it...
Im stepping out
Im stepping out
Im stepping out baby
Im stepping out
Babys sleeping the cats have all been blessed
Aint nothing doing on tv (summer repeats)
Put on my space suit I got to look my best
Im going out to do the city
Im stepping out
Im stepping out
Im stepping out babe
Im stepping out (boogie)
Im stepping out (hold it down)
Im stepping out
Im stepping out
Gotta gotta gotta gotta get out
Im stepping out babe
Just awhile
Aint been out for days...
song performed by by Lennon John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Happy Soul
the happy soul thrives upon its own solitude
feeds upon its happy moments
and looks forward to the happiness
of the other days
it does not think about you and does not listen
to your woes
it has its own rhythm and rhyme
it feels the songs of the wind
it sees the colors of the sphere
layer upon layer it understands
the wisdom of the season
it smells the perfume of the red roses
it dances with the trees
and feels the cool comfort of the grass
it relates to the journey of the rivers
it knows the home of the birds
the words of the worms
the fullness of the beautiful foams
it knows where to rest its weariness
it sleeps and dreams
it does not even care if this world
speaks about an end
there is only bliss there is always nothing to miss
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Im Stepping Out
A one, a two, a one, two, three, four!
This here is the story about a househusband who, you know,
Just want to get out of the house, has been looking at you,
You, know, the kids, days and days, hes been watching the
Kitchen and screwing around or whatever it has to be till
Hes gone crazy!
Woke up this morning, blues around my head.
No need to ask the reason why.
Went to the kitchen and lit a cigarette,
Blew my worries to the sky.
Im stepping out,
Im stepping out,
Im stepping out,
Im stepping out, yeh!
If it dont feel right, you dont have to do it.
Just leave a message on the phone and tell them to screw it.
And after all is said and done,
You cant go pleasin evryone so screw it.
Uh-uh-uh,
Im stepping out,
Im stepping out,
Im stepping out, baby,
Im stepping out.
Babys sleeping, the cats have all been blessed,
Aint nothing doing on tv. (some old repeat!)
Put on my spacesuit, I got to look my best,
Im going out to do the city.
Im stepping out,
Im stepping out,
Im stepping out, babe,
Im stepping out.
Boogie!
One more!
Im stepping out, hold it down,
Im stepping out,
Im stepping out,
Gotta, gotta, gotta, gotta get out!
Im stepping out, babe, just for a while.
Aint been out for days! got to do it tonight!
Give me a break! give me a break! gotta get out!
Gotta get out!
Just for a while, just for the night.
Ill be in before one, or two, or three.
Goodbye.
song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Im Stepping Out
A one, a two, a one, two, three, four!
This here is the story about a househusband who, you know,
Just want to get out of the house, has been looking at you,
You, know, the kids, days and days, hes been watching the
Kitchen and screwing around or whatever it has to be till
Hes gone crazy!
Woke up this morning, blues around my head.
No need to ask the reason why.
Went to the kitchen and lit a cigarette,
Blew my worries to the sky.
Im stepping out,
Im stepping out,
Im stepping out,
Im stepping out, yeh!
If it dont feel right, you dont have to do it.
Just leave a message on the phone and tell them to screw it.
And after all is said and done,
You cant go pleasin evryone so screw it.
Uh-uh-uh,
Im stepping out,
Im stepping out,
Im stepping out, baby,
Im stepping out.
Babys sleeping, the cats have all been blessed,
Aint nothing doing on tv. (some old repeat!)
Put on my spacesuit, I got to look my best,
Im going out to do the city.
Im stepping out,
Im stepping out,
Im stepping out, babe,
Im stepping out.
Boogie!
One more!
Im stepping out, hold it down,
Im stepping out,
Im stepping out,
Gotta, gotta, gotta, gotta get out!
Im stepping out, babe, just for a while.
Aint been out for days! got to do it tonight!
Give me a break! give me a break! gotta get out!
Gotta get out!
Just for a while, just for the night.
Ill be in before one, or two, or three.
Goodbye.
song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When We Meet Again Sometime This Summer
i tell you, i do not like winters, and i do not wish
to go where winter lies. I am intolerant of anything
that freezes me, that thaws, that gives me frost,
that bites like an ant, that solidifies me like
refrigerator ice.
i like summers. Flowers blooming. Green grass
spreading. Butterflies in different colors in the garden.
Bees just enough for the buzz. I love trees. I love
rivers, and springs and creeks.
Bamboo trees beside the rocks beside the pebbles
beside the river. I like the songs of the rivers. Lots of rivers.
Gentle rains. Hush winds. Cool shades. Shadows of mountains.
When we meet again, i like it to be this summer.
Lots of sun. Warmth., Sweat. Perspirations. Palpitations
of the hearts of the young on summer time.
Under the cool shades of the trees on summer nights.
I always remember summer nights.Strong summer winds.
Flown hair. Drying pants and underwears. My legs exposed
Beside the brook. I like being naked. I like being on top of
everything.
With you, on you, by you, within you, in your mouth all over your face.
Oh summer breeze. See you. Feel you. Love you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A lonely man's monologue
So many false hopes like the stars of a moonless night
Show me the way to survive in this dreary life
I bury so many dreams like a grave digger
And give birth to new ones like a queen bee
My heart has broken into so many pieces
It has become the sands of a desert
My sighs have become super storms
My tears have become the clouds of rainy season
My smiles have become the lightning
And my laughter has become the thunderbolts
My days have become months
And my nights have become years
My poems have lost rhyme like the hot summer days
My songs losing all softness have become hard rock
poem by Asif Andalib
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On Wasted Mornings
the trees are waiting
and the paths are smooth
the flowers start
to bloom
and the sun peeps
with gladness
between the mountains
the ants are busy
and the grasshoppers
sing
the rivers flow
happily to the sea
and here i am
on this wasted morning
composing verses
that no one
reads.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Magic Lies In Silence Of Grass and In Your Voice
I am barefoot walking in the grass of morning,
The dew drops are comforting my feet,
I felt relieved by my stress and grief,
When i heard your voice in the grass rustling.
I lie down on grass and i could feel its silence,
I close my eyes and i enjoyed your voice,
The smell of grass was taken on the wings of wind,
Magic lies in silence of grass and in your voice.
Is amazing how much miracle stays in a blade of grass,
Opening my eyes i saw above the sky,
There was your face among the clouds smiling,
I had the feeling that i want to hug the sky.
I'm gonna miss you all the days of life,
And even when death will take my last breath,
Last thing i'll do passing to eternity,
I'm gonna miss you.
Winter will come, grass will fall asleep,
I 'll not hear the grass rustling anymore,
Only my memories with you will be always alive,
Rustling in my mind as grass did.
poem by Cristina Teodor
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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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At The Seaside, A Solitude
the seaside is peaceful
the sky is blue with white cumulus clouds hanging there
slowly they move and change shapes
like the air is painting and mixing the colors in space
gentle hues graceful strokes
the white sands extend to some miles
the coconut trees are like handshakes
their shadows restive and steady
i lay my body weary of the years
i look at all these lines and circles and spheres
i like to give up thinking and just be a spectator
i let them talk and i merely listen
the seaside, the seagull, the clouds, the coconut trees, the white sands,
the circles and spheres and lines extending
to nowhere.
i cover my eyes with a straw hat. I cease.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Last Season
i now welcome the last season
it is not winter, it is the season of
forgetting, and next to it is spring
not really spring in the manner that
flowers bloom again
but it is the season for us who divided
by a very distant silence
shall begin a new journey
alone, because we want to think some more
without us together
a pair of tracks, crossing a river
a new slate of water erasing what
we have gone through
for we rise from the river and
approach another plain
it is the grass now that conceals
what our feet tread upon
it is the sound of softness
that greenness of
undiscovered ways
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Invitation Of The Earth To Hear Its Songs....
the earth
if you listen enough
ears on those walls
buried
to each fiber of wood
has composed a lot of songs
for the goodness
of our
souls: the songs of the sea waves
against the sands, such a shushing sound
the thin air that kisses those daffodils
the soft feet of rain tiptoeing on the grass
the whispers of the flowing waters
from your fingers to the
skins on your belly
the lips that kiss
the bodies that meet in desire
rubbing against each
other on
lonelier nights
the flights of bird wings
above the treetops
the fluttering butterflies landing on the petals of a rose
sad is the man who does not hear all these
and love life
sadder is the man who hears all these
but shuts his heart
like slamming doors
locked
without keys
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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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Joy, Forever
I know not why my mind feels gay
with the trees, I want to sway
in the midst of flowers, I want to play
I feel some joy, I've found today
Joy, it feels, like a candle lit,
fairies of hope surrounding it
It feels to me like the glowing Sun,
like a yarn of happiness unspun
It feels like a top, swerving around
on its tip, dancing, along the ground
Joy, it seems, like a dropp in an ocean,
It feels like the drink of a magic potion
Joy, I hope, you forever remain
always ready to relieve my pain,
To let life see me smile always
Through out the nights, and my days.
poem by Vishnu Sampoorn
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A Butterflies Beauty
Butterfly with beautiful wings,
Glides through the summer
breeze,
As the sun shines upon the wings,
Fluttering oh so silently,
Colors of the rainbow begin to
show brightly,
Like the beautiful colors of
the flowers,
Butterflies blend in so perfect,
Making nature look pretty,
Unique patterns on every wing
has its beautiful story,
Just like nature has its own
story,
Where beauty never ends,
Butterflies will always blend in
with almost anything,
Blending in with flowers, grass,
even trees tall and small,
Including a rest on a fawns little
nose,
It is only to say hi and thank you,
for letting me rest my wings,
Now I must be on my way to enjoy
the summer breeze,
Soon it will be winter and I will
have to leave,
No worries I will return when the grass
is green and trees grow their leaves,
When rivers flow with the sunshine warmth,
Animals tall and small roam again from
slumber,
Flowers blossom beautifully,
that is how you know I will return
again,
Fluttering upon the spring and summer
breeze,
All my family will also return to fill
nature with colorful beauty.
poem by Derek James
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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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The City
the city was once
a forest of trees
when the pioneers
arrive with their axes
and each tree fell
and the river swollen
mothers had to have
more children
and fathers had to
plow more fields
and plant the rows and
rows of corn
as monkeys on top
of the remaining trees
tease
the grasshoppers
find enough sleep
and the ants keep
on building their
empire on mounds
and mounds of
dry land
that was how
a city was formed
my father said
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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