On Clear Pond
ON a clear pond
not far away from the house
there live two
frogs
who blend well in their
croaking
during the rainy season
contented on a lotus leaf
for a home
and few moths,
bugs and
flies for their
meals
they are happier on this
simple terms
together
there is no marriage
for them to
boast
but it is still death
that does them part
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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182
On the rainy season
I see some tadpoles
On the pond
Near the house
When mother-in-law arrives
I hear all of them croaking
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Poem For Mother-in-law
On the rainy season
I see some tadpoles
On the pond
Near the house
When mother-in-law arrives
I hear all of them croaking
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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P.
in the same manner
i never expect you to take me
to you,
lighten my load
and please me
with your ways
swan-like and
peacock colors
there is the solitude of
your pond
the pale blue in your
clouds
there is the reality
of the croaking of your
frogs
the imaginary place
has welcomed me
like i am a part of you
since
no regrets i take
you as you take me
in this marriage
of our arts.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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On The Pond
if i were to choose
whether
i be this flowering lotus
or the croaking toad
on the pond
i will choose
as a matter of compromise
both
a croaking flowering lotus
sitting like a toad then
splashing on the pond
pleasing everybody
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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To The Frog Clan
This shall be the symbol of my clan
The slime of my ancestors
For those whose claim for life and prosperity
Is as prolonged as the length of the list found in the clan’s tree
This frog is your frog
It is part of the multitude
Taking the power of the ten rivers
Its croaking
Is the uproar against the loudest blur of the reigning rains
You are the frog like us
From water to land to grasses to marshes to trenches
Of this earth
We shall remain as the true descendants of the great frog
By our nature
We shall not go hungry
By the power of the longest tongue
By the secret poisons of our skins
By our rounded views
By our slime
By the strong clinging of our ties
We shall all be saved
From the great flood
May our dead ancestors
May the great frogs
Lead us to the most secure pond of our future lives
And may the frog in us
Give us the great leap
The great jump
Taking us to our dream
Our clear cool waters
Teeming with mashing marshes
And there
Dear loving frogs of this clan
Let all our croaking be one.
Let all our croaking be true.
Let our croaking be love.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I Could Have Told You
THAT YELLOW
SOLO LEAF floating on a very clear pond,
was it last summer?
will it really matter when someone is finally gone?
will the wind remember?
will the deep water of the pond be always true to its clarity and peace?
that yellow leaf that sank on the very clear pond on one peaceful day
will someone still remember?
i think, i will,
if i, too, shall live
longer than
you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Yellow Frogs
On this rainy day
The yellow frogs are croaking
To find their playmates.
poem by Asif Andalib
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Do Not Give Poetry A Bad Name
The frogs should not have croaked a lot
when everyone is fast asleep
Aristophanes after all is right
These frogs should not live like the Clouds.
On the other hand
THe Philosophers should cling to being
Philosophers
Stay with the embrace of Reason and Not
Embrace the Strong Arms of Emotions
For Emotions belong to nothing but the
Realm of Poetry
aH! Lysistrata shall now wage her own
War against the Men
Claiming as she does
Her sole right to Eroticism
Honestly, i still love to hear the frogs croaking
In the Pond
I for the meantime loves to Keep
The Philosophers dwell in their Own
Cloud Point of view.
If Lysistrata obliges
One night with Her would be enough
After which, I shall work hard to
Give Poetry its Own Right Name.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A toad
why cry all alone?
get out and meet somebody
the frogs are croaking
for companion, why arent you?
get out, and get to know somebody
anybody is better than nobody
even a toad waddling in the pond
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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For Mama
i never believe them
about the story. about the clinic and the
handsome doctor.
it was a remote possibility
that i could have been
born there
because i have always loved
the mountain and the sea
and i have always the feeling
that the dove
still hovers in my heart
how can a scalpel
be the source of my name
when i am but a seed
of the rice thrown
in the muddy fields?
they have destroyed your
face and your eyes bleed
some tears.the damage cannot
be repaired. when the coffee
spilt its hot liquid on the carpet
the aroma has escaped
our senses.
the stain hides on the dark
blue colors of its thickness.
there are new flowers
that i have planted in your
old garden. the rocks are kept.
and the pebbles. and the
little pond and the tadpoles
swim to be croaking frogs
this coming rainy season
for you mama. and i have
began to learn to love the
songs of the rain.to dance
under them. and be all wet.
i don't mind anymore.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Its Croaking Shows Its Presence! !
The croaking echoes through the neighborhood,
the blasting croaking echoes as braying,
sometimes as barking, another time as whistling,
the sounds of croaking may crack our heads,
in the tropical region where it rains,
every other day and musical begins,
with the mono syllabic cricket,
house lizards join them occasionally,
The frogs repeats one day and one night,
as the Native American folklore says,
brother sun agreed and the bear hibernated,
the frogs repeat one day and one night,
it may not be alive the next day,
unnecessary croaking,
is being heard by something,
that slithers and hungry,
its croaking showed its presence,
right to the mouth of that reptile.
In the middle of the meetings,
some of us croak to show our presence,
Croak the wrong information,
out of our peanut brains,
sometimes we croak in the viva verse,
mostly something the invigilators unaware,
fail us then and there,
keeping quiet, sometimes good,
people assume that we know many things,
Politicians croak,
clergies croak,
our teachers croak,
our parents croak,
our children croak,
you and I croak,
our nature make us to croak,
most of the times we get caught,
because we croak a lot.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Take Salt Season New Meals
leaf meals taste spicy
bless mind to empty belly
spirit how leaf full briefly
transforms gift food energy
prepares meals for all souls
alone lost who homeless roam
life goes on be glad bridges
burning are not your home
take salt season new meals
for each lonely hurt traveller
pain commercial transitions
breaks breeds dream weaver
life purpose may begin in
kindness helping homeless kitten
waste rambling ways bless in
restore love in hope heart written
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Two Frogs
two frogs
agree to take shelter
on a lone leaf
under a heavy rain
they swear
to croak together
after a storm
they swear
to always live
and love
together
what is perfect
is just between them
on a very small pond
just fit for the two
of them
and they both
live happily ever after
and then
the tadpoles
come
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Ohio
Crickets are chirping
To the awakening mother Earth
Frogs are croaking again,
I am walking on the land
That I have walked long ago
As I am walking back, to Ohio.
Ohio I have missed you
My long gone friend
How good it is to be back home,
I am sorry that I left you
But now I am home again
Back to my home, of Ohio,
Ohio don't you leave me
Like I had left you
Trying to find myself a better home,
I have searched and I had prayed
But now I am home again
Back to my home of, Ohio.
Crickets are chirping
To the awakening mother Earth
Frogs are croaking once again,
Now I am walking with them
As I walk down the wooded path
Back to my home, of Ohio.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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The World Of The Silent Blooming Lotus
floating like a lotus
red concentric petals stretching
wanting to kiss the cheek of the sky
i am the monk in my own
spreading kingdom of a still pond
beside me are the frogs listening
surrounded by a soldier of tadpoles
beneath me is the stock of dirt
i keep my purity on top
the sun looks at me with pride
at night the moon smiles
such is the world of this silent lotus
calm amidst the night, clean atop the mess.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Free Frogs
Free Frogs
Hi! My name is Frannie,
Frannie Frog
I'd like to introduce you
to my three brothers
Bud
Weis
and Er
They are currently looking for a new home
They would prefer
a damp slimy pond,
with lots of bugs.
But will settle for
a nice pad in the suburbs
They love big wet kisses
But ladies don't expect
any handsome prince
So if you could just
get them off my back...
...I mean give them a good home
They are free
If I could only release them from me
20 July 2008
© 2008 (All rights reserved)
A Leaf
to a non-poet a leaf is just a leaf
and when it falls
on the ground, there is nothing but a
fall
but to us who claim this art
a leaf is not just a leaf
but it can be you or i
falling and when i reach the ground
you feel the heart of the leaf
beating
for its falling, its failure as a leaf,
its surrender to a certain death
its claiming a portion of this earth
to rest and be part of this
world, it rots, and it speaks some line
before it rots
a poem, a valediction on an anthill,
an eulogy of the other leaves that
fell before the great falling
it can be a story of humanity written
on the lines of its face, it will have flesh
on its layers, some mouths on its
seams, and it will tell too
about the tree where it comes from
how the clouds drifted so close to its stalk
how the sun kissed it on top of everything
a leaf is a world. just as a poem is.
we live inside it. Through it. Even
outside it. Even in circles.
we make understanding so complicated.
yet we are so simple as you see us.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A House Without Love
Recorded by: hank williams, sr.
Writer: hank williams, sr.
Capo: 4th fret/key: b/play: g
[g] for years we both have lived on pride, [d7] dear
And we agree that love is [g] gone
Why, oh why do we keep [d7] tryin
A house without love is not a [g] home. [g7]
The [c] lovelight in your eyes has [g] faded
And Im contented just to [d7] roam
We [g] slaved to gain a worthless [d7] treasure
A house without love is not a [g] home.
No matter where our footsteps wander
I know well both be all alone
With the pride that came between us
A house without love is not a home.
The simple things have gone forever
We wanted wealth to call our own
And now weve reached the hour of parting
A house without love is not a home.
song performed by by Hank Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Live-In Relation Leads To Solation
The courtship serves that they know each other.
The marriage entails living together.
Marriages fail from successful courtships.
Living together cuts space for movements.
Divorce is a cumbersome exercise.
Sometimes, pounds of flesh are extracted.
To circumvent the divorce from marriage,
Live-in relationships have been brought in.
In live-in relation, man and woman
Live together, having conjugal love,
And beget children with all sanctity.
It may or not lead to marriage later.
In certain cases, living-in is had
As a stop gap arrangement for marriage,
Living-in is as good as a married life.
It can serve being a good test drive test.
To end marriage is to sell a house.
To end living-in is to end a lease.
Live -in relation is easy to break
Before marriage or later from staleness
‘Till death do us part' has been outdated.
Living-in is a step before wedding,
Which is still preferred as it gives one joy
Of going public with the relationship.
With less commitment, live-in relation
Is easy to break and easy to acquire.
Change of partners drives out monotony.
After sexual life, isolation will set in.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Bad Company
Fatigued and exhausted home coming makes me restless
As if I am swallowed whole by the emptiness
Stacked famous ones whirl around, pity me
As termites start digesting me
Spider webs decorating walls
House lizards playing ball
Bed-bugs play hide & seek
Rats sprint on rugs
Mosquitoes sing
Buzzing
flies
Melodious
Cricket's chirping
Frog's croaking, all keep me
Awake whole night yet fill my emptiness
With their presence without which my life
Would have been one of emptiness and loneliness
Getting rid of them from the core threaten my existence
Yet I am bent upon driving them out to be with HIM in ONENESS
-------x----------
All rights reserved/Tribhawan Kaul
poem by Tribhawan Kaul
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