One Day You Stop By A Bridge And Just Sit There
and gaze at the rage of the water
under
the brown river gathering all the nuts
from the mountain
after the flood
murky, all murky
you sit there staring blankly
down
under
and you get carried away
floating
like one of the coconuts
not minding
direction
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Our Way At Giving Poetry A Contemporary Name
poetry is just a flow of the river, taking away what is floating there
everything, from the heart to the vastness of the sea,
you get carried, not just by the substance of the river in-itself,
but also of the sound of the flow so uniquely yours, unequaled even
by the perfection of those who were here ahead of you,
you get carried away, you become the river itself, the leaf, the sand,
the bubble, the fish, the twigs, the paper boat, the shadow of the clouds
the mirror of the sky, clear so clear, murky and so murky, you flow
to be one with the sea, the horizon, you become more and less,
you get carried away both with the bulk and the bulge and the budge,
you get carried away, you lose yourself with the wind, you hear all the
sounds, you talk and walk, and then you feel the happiness of the earth
and the sky and the whole of the galaxy.
There exists no borders of time. It is all space. Bliss.
There are no lessons, not even visions, there is only the universal lull.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Dead Fish Speaking For İtself
the best evidence
of that dead fish
is its body bloating
and stinking
floating on the
murky river
the rage of the river
tries to report the sad story
to the deep
blue sea
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Scarred People
one rainy day
the scarred people
decide to take the plunge
on the murky river
they go naked
not for anything else
but to simply see who got
most of the scars
from their faces
to their feet
someone wins of course
his scars look like snakes and
centipedes
practically naked he looks like
a leopard
yet he is the most gentle person
of them all
they take their plunge into the murky river
following where the flood
may finally hide.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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198
From the mountain
I will throw this stone
To the nearby river
Try to see if the
River gets murky
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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To Honesto In Going to the City
as you pack
your jute sack
containing your
personal belongings:
a pair of pants
an old dirty white shirt
a pair of rubber slippers
a hat
(leave your bolo
you can't use it there)
do not promise me
that you will not
be coming back
to this poor little
town which has not
given you the
opportunity for
a higher wage
as a houseboy
ah, Honesto the city
if you only know
has no pity
it had long forgotten
feelings
and those who
cannot adapt to
its cruelty
may simply die
beside the sidewalk
of its cold streets
and when the flood
comes to clean
its waste
you may be lucky
carried for free
by the big water
to be finally eaten
by the wild fishes
in the murky river
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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In Any Form Of Endearment
The river in you moves
Taking the least resistance
You shall be the murky one
That seeks your own level of murkiness
In calm and still moments
Let me fish for once
In your moments of rage
I shall be the rocky gauge
In the moment of your dryness
I shall be the river bank nearby
We shall be always here in any form
I shall be the bamboo grove one day
And you shall be the cool river again
gently flowing by
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Nature's Suicide
even the sight of the moon
hanging upon
a tree
or the river murky with
the flood of the mud from the
mountains
like running blood
like a rope tied at the beam of the house
all, at first glance,
makes this goose-flesh in my body
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sometimes I Ponder
sometimes i ponder on the useless
things that i think i have done with so much importance
for the day:
1.stopping on a white bridge in Dikayo
and seeing the flood of the brown river
seeing the floating coconuts and
some drift woods
stopping the car.
2. standing beside a bay window
seeing the sea torn into halves
brown on the shore and blue on the
upper portion
stop the reading.
3. setting aside the curtain to
let in the light from the morning sun
turning off the lights and getting
away from the hazards of the
computer screen
stopping, stopping.
stooping.
4. looking over the road from
this two-storey building left by
the Spaniards that once ruled
this old town
aimlessly.
5. stopping for a while. wanting
this world to stop revolving.
wishing.
sometimes i wonder, if all these useless
things that i do can change the world
or just my small world.
I am doing all these. Without thinking much
if the time is wasted.
i sit back on my chair. Staring on a blank wall
that is painted with the color of
the chalk.
Back to writing. The chalk reminds.
The chalk that resembles
the pen.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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4a
tongue-tied winds
on sturdy trees
sea weaving waves
log-rolling on the shores
moon floating weakly
on the murky river
nights without neon lights
brokenhearted
rivers on their usual journeys
towards the sea of options
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Bed On The Water
a bed floats in the middle of the river
you swim
to catch sleep
the bed is taken by the rage of the river
on a flood that rises
up to your chin
you sleep on the water
the cruel bed is gone
the rage of the river subsides
there is peace now
among the lilies
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Murky Matters
Murky matters solidify to fight a year,
Years pass for the people who care;
Cleansing the fastened rope with water
We raise the subject of a rarity.
When the yesterday has arrived
Then we mutter so that corridors
Speak like halls, and halls speak points
Of conduct, that shrivel afterwards.
Especially the murky matters astound us
In the end.
Rope has gained weight on this world
And we have arguments for the whole of Us.
poem by Naveed Akram
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As We Fall
as we fall into the water
let us clasp our hands together
bright day is done,
black night has come
washing over our heads
an icy wind is blowing
grasp the liferaft we are throwing
we'll make it through, with one another
though our minds may start to sever
and float off into space
keep your head above black water
keep it steady, do not falter
we'll help you float, if you try to try
if we help each other, we cannot die
I know it seems absurd now
as we fall through frigid water
see the surf is getting harder
see the sad vieled moon that is not glowing
if we must survive, we must keep rowing
through the murky water
shadowed creatures grap our legs
wieghing them down, sinking like kegs
gasping for a breath of air
splashing in the witch's lair
NO! keep your head above the water
the sandy shore is not in sight
a sky, and in it, no shining light
this world we must survive
stay together as we dive
into dark & murky waters
poem by Gina Prettybrowneyes
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Where Is The River?
Where is the river?
Is it here
Or somewhere else
Where is the river?
Is it here
Or hidden under the ground
Where is the river?
Is it here
Or safe inside the cave
Where is the river?
Is it here
Or still far away
Where is the river?
Is it here
Or up above the cloud
Where is the river?
Is it here
Or out of our reach
Where is the river?
Is it here
Or trickling on the rock
Where is the river?
Is it here
Or gathering in the pool
Where is the river?
Is it here
Or down over the cliff
Where is the river?
Is it here
Or just sight of illusion
Where is the river?
Is it here
Running in your eyes
Where is the river?
Is it here
Or sudden flood in the road
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Take The Water To The Mountain
Take the water to the mountain;
Take the river to the sea.
Let the forest be salvation
Long before it needs to be.
Take the water to the mountain;
Let your body flow upstream.
Let it cascade off your shoulders;
Be the body of your dreams.
Take the water to the mountain;
Let the sun shine on your ground.
You decide your every movement;
Let the water to the land.
Take the water to the mountain;
Cross the great divide of love.
Give to nature all you can give;
Let the mother know your heart.
Take the water to the mountain;
Lets become alive again.
Holy water, holy mountain,
Holy river, holy tree.
Pica!
song performed by by Yes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Take The Water To The Mountain
Take the water to the mountain;
Take the river to the sea.
Let the forest be salvation
Long before it needs to be.
Take the water to the mountain;
Let your body flow upstream.
Let it cascade off your shoulders;
Be the body of your dreams.
Take the water to the mountain;
Let the sun shine on your ground.
You decide your every movement;
Let the water to the land.
Take the water to the mountain;
Cross the great divide of love.
Give to nature all you can give;
Let the mother know your heart.
Take the water to the mountain;
Lets become alive again.
Holy water, holy mountain,
Holy river, holy tree.
Pica!
song performed by by Yes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hammock Upon The Winds
there lies sadness like patches of green moss
sticking upon a rock half covered by the clear water of the river
one may think that sadness will always be there as patches of
what we have always wanted to get rid off like peeling them off gently from
an old sharp and rugged edged rock
sometimes you become so tired planning and doing and then surrendering into the helplessness of a fallen leaf that floats and is carried slowly by the current of the river early morning on a Sunday
when people are not around spending holidays on places that they miss for the whole week
and so one lays its tired body on the side of the river's bank
wades his hands and feels the coolness of the water and then starts to flow and release what he thinks must be given away
one feels the restfulness of finally giving up
of not minding about what cares must be done in order to make
life smoother
flowing and easier like the way the brown leaf floats
like the way the blue clouds drift
like the way we let the moss grow
upon the side of the rock
having more wet times with the clear water of the river
having a clearer view of the orange fish within and the shiny pebbles
beneath them
words lull me like i were carried by the hammock upon the arms of the unseen winds....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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This River
this river is a wide and long stretch
of brown dreams
it is silent its ripples are like moving threads
it has a song of its own
that only your heart can sing
we sail this river again
this ealy morning when the sun still hides itself
in the nipa palms
we sit side by side as the boat takes its time
we hold our hands
we are still lovers throught the years
we look forward to the same direction
it will not take that long
at the end we will see again the cascades
we will hear the flow of the mountain springs
we will again remember
the harmony of what we once were
do you hear that cascading song of the water?
that is the song of the river that in my heart i always treasure
together and forever
we will cascade, my love, like this long, brown river to the sea
of our daily affections
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The River's Arms...
I Rushed Into The River’s Arms
It Carried Me Away
Within Its Strong, Swift Current
Amid Foam and Sunlit Spray
It Wetly Glossed My Skin
Dripping Diamonds … and Dipping Me
Close Down To The Riverbed
Deep and Wild and Murky
At First, Its Cold Nature
Shocked and Intimidated
Until I Learned Its Flow
Sweetly Invigorated …
Every Splash Upon My Flesh
Was Playful and Caressive
Every Plunge and Every Pull
Held Me Curiously and Possessive
My Body Buoyed and Bounced
Floating On Smooth Liquid
Every Sprinkle Was Sparkling
Each Velvet-Lapping, Vivid
Where Dreams Un-Drowned Had Mixed
With Waves Rimming O’er and Spilt …
Rippled and Spinned Around Rocks That Skipped
Were Danced Down Into Silken-Silt
I Kept Rising By Riverside
Thru Every Dunk and Every Dive …
Every Surge Felt So Alive
Every Soak So Synchronized
Like A Saturday Baptism
My Saturated Soul, Glistened
An Enraptured, Reborn Vision
Fresh-Rinsed … and Arisen
I Let The River Steer
So Symbolic and So Sure
It Carries To Something Greater
I’ll Find Out Just What Later …
“ River Long and River Wide
My River Song On Riverside
Traveling On The River Tides
River’s Arms Is One Sweet Ride ”
It Is Not A Pot Of Gold
But A Jade River That Flows
At The End Of A Rainbow
(Every Forest Creature Knows)
Now Sitting On Riverbank
Watching This Swishing Water-Tank
Don’t Know How I Didn’t Sank …
But I Do Know Who To Thank! …
“ River Long, Oh River Ride
My River Song … On Riverside
Traveling On Your River Tides
River’s Arms Was Open Wide
… I Rushed Into The River’s Arms and … “
Written & ©: 7/13/10
By: The MoonBee
poem by MoonBee Canady
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Calamity
washing the shovels
on a murky river
nearby a bloated body
of a dog
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Right Across The River Bend
Right across the river bend there’s a warm gentle breeze.
Right across the river-bend are trees with yellow leaves.
Right across the river bend the water reflects the sun.
Right across the river bend is a smell of innocence.
Right across the river bend a robin’s egg is broken.
Right across the river-bend are peaceful mountain valleys.
Right across the river bend a dandelion is carried.
Right across the river bend are fields of shiny green grass.
Right across the riverbend are memories made to last.
poem by Alicia Page
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