On The Island Of Lilitao
THE boatman says we will be here only for a short while
why? because this island of Lilitao shall soon disappear
we are not scared we think that the boatman is just joking
and so we take time stepping upon the golden sands
pit-patted on its green blue waters
wading our bodies feeling the salt and silt in our hands
soon, a huge cloud comes, bringing with it the rain and thunder
and then it becomes dark and the boatman serious as a man with the hood
of death signaled that we must rush to the boat at once and save ourselves
for indeed the island as predicted disappeared
the sea has swallowed it, but as the boatman says,
in the next hour, it too shall spit it out.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Stormy Sea
that boat was too small
for this trip to the other island
the ladies sat next to me
and they were all silent
to the sounds of the waves
just beside us and i knew
that with just one mistake,
one mistake from the boatman
that boat would have sunk
but lo, how the boatman took
the boat was kind of a very
skilled skipper of the waves
of the stormy sea like he was one
surfer in California taking sides
with each wave with so much
art and beauty carefully scaling
where safety lied and where
danger waited for an ambush
i was looking at each side
of the huge waves until
we reached Crocodile Island
of course the ladies knew that
it was no longer a joke but
a matter of a skilled boatman
making a choice between
life and death.
we chose life and the ladies and
the boatmen very well knew it.
the waves were too big for the
small boat but our silence was
even bigger. we survived.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Greed Of The River
brown to its existence the river as usual is silent
it borrows the sound of the slashing boat and from the time to time talks
it asks. 'where to boatman? '
but the boatman does not answer
he does not know how this river works how this river feels
it has taken people away
it has taken people back to their places
it has swallowed lives
and then in silence it sleeps
its belly full
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The singing Lagoon
An Otter and a Guppy they lived in an isolated lagoon.
They are very good friends.
In a moonlit night they hear a beautiful song.
A Nymph sings while combing her tress in the mangrove.
Once in a blue moon a slim and handsome boatman comes there and joins her singing.
Otter whispered to Guppy; 'My friend are they lovers? '
'I don't think so, if they are lovers then why the boatman comes very seldom? 'Guppy replied.
'Yes, how a boatman can loves a Nymph? 'Otter explained.
They saw the boatman goes into the mangrove.
And they heard the Nymph cries. 'How long I have to wait? And you promised that you take me to your shack soon.'
'Definitely I loose my job in due course as they are making a bridge.
I have already planned to go to the sea as fishing is more profitable.
Please do not worry my sweetheart and I fish you one day when my pocket is full.'
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Waters Of Tyne
I cannot get to my love if I would die;
The water of Tyne runs between her and me
And here I must stand with a tear in my 'ee,
Both sighing and sickly, my sweetheart to see
I cannot get to my love, if I would die;
The water of Tyne runs between her and me
And here I must stand with a tear in my 'ee,
Both sighing and sickly my sweetheart to see
Oh, where is the boatman, my bonny hinny?
Oh, where is the boatman? Bring him to me
To ferry me over the Tyne to my honey,
And I will remember the boatman and thee
Oh, bring me a boatman, I'll give any money,
And you for your troubles rewarded shall be
To ferry me over the Tyne to my honey
Or scull her across the rough river to me
song performed by by Sting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Boatman In Boracay
the muscular boatman in pale red shirt waits
beside his boat
for a customer to be taken to the island
of desire tonight
whatever
sex.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Ferry Me Across The Water
‘Ferry me across the water,
Do, boatman, do.’
‘If you've a penny in your purse
I'll ferry you.’
‘I have a penny in my purse,
And my eyes are blue;
So ferry me across the water,
Do, boatman, do.’
‘Step into my ferry-boat,
Be they black or blue,
And for the penny in your purse
I'll ferry you.’
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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Boatman
Notes:
Jt on sony.com: boatman is my brother livingstons song.
Ive always assumed it was about how he and maggie saved their marriage but I never really asked. in my family we like to save the intimate stuff for the general public.
Hearts were exploding around us
As we drifted south down the bay
The gray up above and gray down below
Left us with nothing to say
So we drifted along in silence
til the tickle of life trickled in
And the rhythm began in the hiss of the sand
We were catching fire again
Chorus:
Oh boatman, I am the river
I am the mountain and the sea
Oh boatman, taker and giver
Can you deliver me
I would forever run free
Yeah we finally caught up with legends
We were walking along side by side
We worked out a plan
To go out hand in hand
But the long trail just wasnt that wide
The water around us was freezing
We just laughed and threw ourselves in
And although we were old
The sting of that cold
Pumped up the feeling, here it is again
Repeat chorus
Oh Im a message in a bottle
Drifting along on a deep blue sea
Waiting for some foreign shore
Ready for something to be
No longer afraid of falling
We cut the strings to the sky
We found level ground
And we put ourselves down
Amazing we all didnt die
We took each moment as given
By second by second they came
The ice and the sun and the thundering guns
Good God I was finally sane
Repeat chorus
song performed by by James Taylor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lime Tree Arbour
The boatman calls from the lake
A lone dives upon the water
I put my hand over hers
Down in the lime tree arbour
The wind in the trees is whispering
Whispering low that I love her
She puts her hand over mine
Down in the lime tree arbour
Through every breath that I breathe
And every place I go
There is a hand that protects me
And I do love her so
There will always be suffering
It flows through life like water
I put my hand over hers
Down in the lime tree arbour
The boatman he has gone
And the loons have flown for cover
She puts her hand over mine
Down in the lime tree arbour
Through every word that I speak
And every thing I know
There is hand that protects me
And I do love her so
song performed by by Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds from The Boatman's Call
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Further Bank
I long to go over there to the further bank of the river.
Where those boats are tied to the bamboo poles in a line;
Where men cross over in their boats in the morning with
ploughs on their shoulders to till their far-away fields;
Where the cowherds make their lowing cattle swim across to the
riverside pasture;
Whence they all come back home in the evening, leaving the
jackals to howl in the island overgrown with weeds.
Mother, if you don't mind, I should like to become the boatman
of the ferry when I am grown up.
They say there are strange pools hidden behind that high bank.
Where flocks of wild ducks come when the rains are over, and
thick reeds grow round the margins where water-birds lay their
eggs;
Where snipes with their dancing tails stamp their tiny
footprints upon the clean soft mud;
Where in the evening the tall grasses crested with while
flowers invite the moonbeam to float upon their waves.
Mother, if you don't mind, I should like to become the boatman
of the ferryboat when I am grown up.
I shall cross and cross back from bank to bank, and all the
boys and girls of the village will wonder at me while they are
bathing.
When the sun climbs the mid sky and morning wears on to noon,
I shall come running to you, saying, "Mother, I am hungry."
When the day is done and the shadows cower under the trees,
I shall come back in the dust.
I shall never go away from you into the town to work like
father.
Mother, if you don't mind, I should like to become the boatman
of the ferryboat when I am grown up.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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I Yearn For A Tranquil Moment
I yearn for a tranquil moment
To be out upon the sea of harmony,
In that enchanted boat.
Oh, boatman, do you know my heart?
poem by Sugawara Takesue no Musume
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A Boat-ride, Surreal
there, there...down there
through a thicket of fog
beckoned a vacant boat
i fought through the fog
and reached a zone, misty
the boat pulled me as if
i were a piece of iron
i hastened through
the layers and layers...
there i was, at last
assured that it would
take me to the other bank
it wasn't to be
the gently rocking boat
began on an erratic sail
down down the stream
in its womb of deception
hid many a whirlpool
the waters jerky...
hey, what was i doing
sitting in a boat with no oars
nor knowing how to swim...!
'you're the boatman
you're the oars...
row row...
the other bank
a distant dream
row row...'
a song filled the stream...
18dec2009
0540hra
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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19
when i get to be an old man
i shall not speak of any regret
about the past that i buried
in the silent city of my ancestors
i carry with me a poem in my heart
as i look forward to the coming of the black horse
that will carry me to the shore
and i shall wait for the boatman
to carry me to another island
my heart is expectant like a child
waiting for mother from the market
like a man in love waiting for his woman
under the trees beside a silvery river
under the moon kissing and knowing
beforehand destined eternity.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Having Crossed The River
Having crossed the river,
where will you go, O friend?
There's no road to tread,
No traveler ahead,
Neither a beginning, nor an end.
There's no water, no boat, no boatman, no cord;
No earth is there, no sky, no time, no bank, no ford.
You have forgotten the Self within,
Your search in the void will be in vain;
In a moment the life will ebb
And in this body you won't remain.
Be ever conscious of this, O friend,
You've to immerse within your Self;
Kabir says, salvation you won't then need,
For what you are, you would be indeed.
Lord William
No eye beheld when William plunged
Young Edmund in the stream,
No human ear but William's heard
Young Edmund's drowning scream.
Submissive all the vassals own'd
The murderer for their Lord,
And he, the rightful heir, possessed
The house of Erlingford.
The ancient house of Erlingford
Stood midst a fair domain,
And Severn's ample waters near
Roll'd through the fertile plain.
And often the way-faring man
Would love to linger there,
Forgetful of his onward road
To gaze on scenes so fair.
But never could Lord William dare
To gaze on Severn's stream;
In every wind that swept its waves
He heard young Edmund scream.
In vain at midnight's silent hour
Sleep closed the murderer's eyes,
In every dream the murderer saw
Young Edmund's form arise.
In vain by restless conscience driven
Lord William left his home,
Far from the scenes that saw his guilt,
In pilgrimage to roam.
To other climes the pilgrim fled,
But could not fly despair,
He sought his home again, but peace
Was still a stranger there.
Each hour was tedious long, yet swift
The months appear'd to roll;
And now the day return'd that shook
With terror William's soul.
A day that William never felt
Return without dismay,
For well had conscience kalendered
Young Edmund's dying day.
A fearful day was that! the rains
Fell fast, with tempest roar,
And the swoln tide of Severn spread
Far on the level shore.
In vain Lord William sought the feast
In vain he quaff'd the bowl,
And strove with noisy mirth to drown
The anguish of his soul.
The tempest as its sudden swell
In gusty howlings came,
With cold and death-like feelings seem'd
To thrill his shuddering frame.
Reluctant now, as night came on,
His lonely couch he prest,
And wearied out, he sunk to sleep,
To sleep, but not to rest.
Beside that couch his brother's form
Lord Edmund seem'd to stand,
Such and so pale as when in death
He grasp'd his brother's hand;
Such and so pale his face as when
With faint and faltering tongue,
To William's care, a dying charge
He left his orphan son.
'I bade thee with a father's love
My orphan Edmund guard--
Well William hast thou kept thy charge!
Now take thy due reward.'
He started up, each limb convuls'd
With agonizing fear,
He only heard the storm of night--
'Twas music to his ear.
When lo! the voice of loud alarm
His inmost soul appals,
What ho! Lord William rise in haste!
The water saps thy walls!
He rose in haste, beneath the walls
He saw the flood appear,
It hemm'd him round, 'twas midnight now,
No human aid was near.
He heard the shout of joy, for now
A boat approach'd the wall,
And eager to the welcome aid
They crowd for safety all.
My boat is small, the boatman cried,
This dangerous haste forbear!
Wait other aid, this little bark
But one from hence can bear.
Lord William leap'd into the boat,
Haste--haste to yonder shore!
And ample wealth shall well reward,
Ply swift and strong the oar.
The boatman plied the oar, the boat
Went light along the stream,
Sudden Lord William heard a cry
Like Edmund's drowning scream.
The boatman paus'd, methought I heard
A child's distressful cry!
'Twas but the howling wind of night
Lord William made reply.
Haste haste--ply swift and strong the oar!
Haste haste across the stream!
Again Lord William heard a cry
Like Edmund's drowning scream.
I heard a child's distressful scream
The boatman cried again.
Nay hasten on--the night is dark--
And we should search in vain.
Oh God! Lord William dost thou know
How dreadful 'tis to die?
And can'st thou without pity hear
A child's expiring cry?
How horrible it is to sink
Beneath the chilly stream,
To stretch the powerless arms in vain,
In vain for help to scream?
The shriek again was heard. It came
More deep, more piercing loud,
That instant o'er the flood the moon
Shone through a broken cloud.
And near them they beheld a child,
Upon a crag he stood,
A little crag, and all around
Was spread the rising flood.
The boatman plied the oar, the boat
Approach'd his resting place,
The moon-beam shone upon the child
And show'd how pale his face.
Now reach thine hand! the boatman cried
Lord William reach and save!
The child stretch'd forth his little hands
To grasp the hand he gave.
Then William shriek'd; the hand he touch'd
Was cold and damp and dead!
He felt young Edmund in his arms
A heavier weight than lead.
The boat sunk down, the murderer sunk
Beneath the avenging stream;
He rose, he scream'd, no human ear
Heard William's drowning scream.
poem by Robert Southey
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To what shore would you cross
To what shore would you cross,
O my heart?
there is no traveller before you,
there is no road:
Where is the movement,
where is the rest,
on that shore?
There is no water; no boat, no boatman, is there;
There is not so much as a rope to tow the boat, nor a man to draw it.
No earth, no sky, no time, no thing, is there: no shore, no ford!
There, there is neither body nor mind:
and where is the place that shall still the thirst of the soul?
You shall find naught in that emptiness.
Be strong, and enter into your own body:
for there your foothold is firm.
Consider it well,
O my heart!
go not elsewhere,
Kabîr says: 'Put all imaginations away,
and stand fast in that which you are.'
The Beach
Louder than gulls the little children scream
Whom fathers haul into the jovial foam;
But others fearlessly rush in, breast high,
Laughing the salty water from their mouthes--
Heroes of the nursery.
The horny boatman, who has seen whales
And flying fishes, who has sailed as far
As Demerara and the Ivory Coast,
Will warn them, when they crowd to hear his tales,
That every ocean smells of tar.
poem by Robert Graves
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Hallucinations of Floating Corpses
We had no words, on seeing
the confluence of the holy Ganges
and the overflowing Yamuna at Alahabad.
The priests pestered us
to do rites for our parents dead.
Two floating corpses soon we found
and thoughts of life brief haunted our minds.
When the boatman rowed us up
I had hallucinations
and the vast surface of the rivers
seemed to be full of bodies around.
We came home but those ‘inert things’
were at the crest of our thoughts.
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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The Diabetic
she's actually 40
but she looks like 50
at the party
she is taking a case of
beer
drinks like a drum
and eats like there is no more food
for tomorrow
on a frothy mouth
she says she is hopeless
and would not hesitate
if she dies tomorrow
or even today
her husband is younger
by six years
and she swears he loves her even
if she is broke
she drinks more beer
and had more steak
more rice
more spaghetti
at 4 p.m. the waves of the sea
in this island
start to grow bigger
the wind starts to blow
and she rushes the boatman
to take her back
to the city
after all i guess
she is still afraid of the coming
typhoon
is she afraid of drowning?
i guess not
she says she is not afraid to die.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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In The Corridors Of My Senses
On the corridor of my senses
I have lost the shape of
My shadows
Serrated leaves have fallen
On a bed of broken limbs
Muted the sound of my bones
Appearing in another dimension
This morning
I have seen the wilting of
Red roses
Tears drying from the blue
Lovers ‘ eyes
I hear the song
Of a boatman
Rowing and falling
To the edge of the sunless sea
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Alone iam alone in alone island
Alone iam alone in alone island
Alone mew on alone palm tree in alone island
Alone shark surrounding alone island
Alone boat far away from alone island
Alone iam dying alone in alone island
Alone iam alone in alone island
poem by Mohammed AlBalushi
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