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One On One With An Empty Glass

the final confrontation is finally set on the table
the mantel still pretends to be clean
the morsels are polite and the empty glass is civil

just a while ago, it was filled with water
up to the brim and now it is thirsty again
and it stares at me begging for more
but i give it silence hoping that it shall remember
what origin it has
from the department store

it stares at me and threatens me with the pain of emptiness
it does not move
giving me the semblance of an earth that stops to spin
nothing falls and the possibility of freezing is pestering me

i lay my hand on the chest telling it that i am not at all disturbed
i listen to the rhythmic beatings of my heart
i bite my lips like bread using my teeth
i close my eyes and begin my journey inward
my gut

i remember the sound of the broken glass
i recall how i sweep the shattered pieces
i still picture myself digging a hole and burying what should be forgotten

i do not sleep and i do not dream much
i breathe more air and then i awaken all my senses
the glass is empty still and it is there to manifest a surrender

i have learned to fill my lungs with air
the moments pass away taking all that i have and now
i am full.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes

An Empty Glass

an empty glass on the table
we stare at each other tonight

and i theorize on its emptiness
is it fed up with water?
was it drunk the other night and
would not take any liquor?

we stare at each other tonight
my hands holding on my chest
i bite my lips with my teeth

something seeps inside my mouth
i hesitate to swallow it
there is still this fear about substance
something that is alienating

my heart is quenched of its fire
there is only the coldness
of tranquility

something to drink from an empty glass
something that caresses

i shall take it.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Glass Of Water Please

and so the story wants to end itself with a
glass of water.

those who cry after always need
a glass of water.

those whose hearts are broken
those who sob
those who close the window of the niche
those who have nightmares
those who wake up at 3 o'clock in the morning
those who sit on bed and cannot sleep back
always go to the kitchen
open the refrigerator
get a glass and splash
a cold glass of water

this time, i am asking for a glass of water
for i could be
all of the above or you could be one of those
i have described

but who knows we are not one of those
who knows
we are but just anyone who is normally thirsty
and with nothing to ask
simply ask
for a glass of cold water.

and cheerfully, we do not forget to say
please....

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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After This Meeting

after this meeting
you must forget that we have met
whatever was said
or felt
simply disregard everything
like you have taken a bath with me
shed off each drop
to the river
let each moment pass
and float and then go back
to where they must belong
some things
some moments are better
forgotten
i do not want to remember
sweetness or pain
i do not want to feel
what was once there
let them go
for nothing belongs to me
time, words, thoughts
they all pass through me
i never own them
after this short meeting
when you think you fill me
(like a glass of water
or a cup of coffee
when you think you have
quenched my thirst
when you think that for
a time
i shall not hunger)

let me be
an empty space again
let me be another drop
of silence

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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You and I together

I see a glass
Half empty
And I see your hands
Filling an emptiness
That I have
Invented.

I am empty now
And then
You fill me
Up to the brim

I am overflowing
And here you
Are
In the full blast
Of your lust
That you
Invented
Licking me
From the
Bottom
Beyond the brim.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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446

You and I

I see a glass
Half empty
And I see your hands
Filling an emptiness
That I have
Invented.

I am empty now
And then
You fill me
Up to the brim

I am overflowing
And here you
Are
In the full blast
Of your lust
That you
Invented
Licking me
From the
Bottom
Beyond the brim.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Glass Of Wine

'What's in a glass of wine?'
There, set the glass where I can look within.
Now listen to me, friend, while I begin
And tell you what I see-
What I behold with my far-reaching eyes,
And what I know to be
Below the laughing bubbles that arise
Within this glass of wine.
There is a little spirit, night and day,
That cries one word, for ever and alway:
That single word is 'More!'
And whoso drinks a glass of wine, drinks him:
You fill the goblet full unto the brim,
And strive to silence him.

Glass after glass you drain to quench his thirst,
Each glass contains a spirit like the first;
And all their voices cry
Until they shriek and clamor, howl and rave,
And shout 'More!' noisily,
Till welcome death prepares the drunkard's grave,
And stills the imps that rave.

That see I in the wine:
And tears so many that I cannot guess;
And all these drops are labelled with 'Distress.'
I know you cannot see.
And at the bottom are the dregs of shame:
Oh! it is plain to me.
And there are woes too terrible to name:
Now drink your glass of wine.

poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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The Insomniac Who Drew The Head Of A Sheep Wildly On A White Paper

the insomniac's heart is bleeding. she is in pain tonight like the other past night.
she thinks she is dying right on her own bed. changing positions. finding the right way to sleep. she could not find it. she is lost in the darkness of this loneliness. she goes naked towards the refrigerator to get a cold glass of water.
ice cubes. water rushing to the glass. clicking sound of glass and another glass.
coldness rushing to her esophagus. Coldness multiplying in her burning heart. her blankets burning. She could not sleep tonight. She gets a white paper, a pen and begings to scribble her life: wildly, some lines run. Shaping the head of a sheep. one. two. three. four. five. Five eyes. She stops. She needs five eyes to see everything. Awake. The ceiling where the lizards grow to become alligators on the plywood swamp. No grasses but cobwebs of sleepy spiders.
Five Jacks are hidden on the ears. On the ears are hairs of corn. Blonde. On the nose are paper clips. With them, she is cruel. Then she hides a bull inside her pharynx, the one that shits inside her mouth. She stinks. The bull makes a call for desire. For lust. She closes it with the prison wall of her teeth and gums and lips. Her lips are sealed now. All the five eyes are open throughout the night. Looking for love. Love is not found. Her heart bleeds. Stains of blood penetrate the white paper.
She had not slept for five nights. She will add another five eyes. She knows
if this happens again and again, she will die. She pretends that she is strong.
She will not forget these nights. Preludes to her death. She writes some hieroglyphics all over the empty spaces of the white paper. She will not forget
what each line and curve and sharp edges mean. She codes them. She writes the date 9.2.2008.

She does not put her name. It is enough that no one knows and remembers.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I Dont Remember

I got no means to show identification
I got no papers show you what I am
Youll have to take me just the way that you find me
Whats gone is gone and I do not give a damn
Empty stomach, empty head
I got empty heart and empty bed
I dont remember
I dont remember
I dont remember, I dont recall
I got no memory of anything at all
I dont remember, I dont recall
I got no memory of anything
-anything at all
Strange is your language and I have no decoder
Why dont you make your intentions clear
With eyes to the sun and your mouth to the soda
Saying, tell me the truth, you got nothing to fear
Stop staring at me like a bird of prey
Im all mixed up, I got nothing to say
I dont remember
I dont remember
I dont remember, I dont recall
I got no memory of anything at all
I dont remember, I dont recall
I got no memory of anything
Anything at all
I dont remember, I dont recall
I got no memory of anything at all
I dont remember, I dont recall
I got no memory of anything
Absolutely anything at all
I dont remember

song performed by by Peter Gabriel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Full Of You

Cardboard boxes on the floor
They contain memories and so much more
Black and white photographs
Faded now but I remember how we laughed
Theres nothing left for me to do
Ive an empty house, full of you
Pour myself a glass of wine
Let it breathe but I dont give it too much time
Take another and set it down
I kid myself theres nobody else around
Theres nothing left for me to do
Ive an empty glass, full of you
But let me tell you baby
I cant fight the feeling
I never stopped believing
You were coming back to me
I hear footsteps by the door
Could it be theres nothing else that I want more
There you stand in front of me
I see your face my heart has wings you set me free
Theres nothing left for me to do
Now my empty heart, is full of you
But let me tell you baby
I cant fight the feeling
I never stopped believing
You were coming back to me
Let me tell you darling
Never did I doubt you
I cant live without you
Its so good youre back with me

song performed by by Rick Astley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Suffering Is Always Personal and Better Left Unshared and Unspoken

my words are waking me up
my hand is ready, the computer beeps
i like to write an email for you

how many times shall this happen?
this urge to let you know

this morning, i again blame myself
because i can't

i am thinking of the consequences
i know how painful is it to fall
how empty can the house become
how a night without a stars can make us cry
sometimes

how the sound of the river when you walk alone
gives you the sound of the cry of the pebbles
they break their silence
they scream

for truths still untold
to rules that cannot be broken

when you enter that empty room again
a ball of silence meets you
you sit beside it
it speaks to you

this is the first time that you have seen
its nature
it is dressed with lips
and when they begin to open to about to speak to you
you close your hands
turning them into fists
and you hit your chest

and the ball of silence moves away from you
it is respect for pain
when silence pretends again that it is just a ball
and that it can go away

for men suffer all alone
on unsaid proportion
with that ability to embrace no
description

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Tumbler Of Glass

Take it my daughter
this tumbler of glass
fill it with the flame from the hearth
close to your being
in a tight clasp
Keep my daughter
this tumbler of glass

Even if its glow, tenderly
seeps out
let no one ever know what it was
the glass must'nt crack
your gait mustn't flag
filled to the brim
don't let it overflow
don't let your thirst
spill across

Take it my daughter
this tumbler of glass

poem by Harbhajan Singh
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Water On Glass

Written by ricky & marty wilde
Cascading down
Theres a sound vaporising into vision
Its a sound in my head
That I feel and it shuts me in a prison
Say it wont last
Say it will pass
Always the sound in my brain
Can you hear it
Water on glass running down again
Water on glass that sound
Water on glass running round again
Help me, the sound of running waters
Coming down
Dancing away
Like the lights on a moving coloured river
Sounds in my head seem to run
And again I feel a shiver
Say it wont last
Pray it will pass
Always that sound in my brain
Can you hear it (can you hear it)
Water on glass running down again
Water on glass that sound
Water on glass running round again
Help me, the sound of running waters
Coming down
Water on glass running down again
Water on glass that sound
Water on glass running round again
Help me, the sound of running waters
Coming down

song performed by by Kim Wilde
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bottom Of The Glass

You think that you have found a way to ease your troubled mind
You fill a glass, then drink it down and fill it one more time
Well, the wine will flow and the pain will go but the spell will never last
Youll never find the answer in the bottom of the glass
Youll never find the answer in the bottom of the glass
Well, the bottom of the glass is just as empty as your life
You know it holds no secret way to help you in your strife
But for a while youre in another world and you wake up in the past
Youll never find the answer in the bottom of the glass
Youll never find the answer in the bottom of the glass
...glass
That bottle there is not your friend when its gone it leaves you cold
The strength it gives you slips away for its something you cant hold
Your hands will shanke and then youll take another from the flask
But youll never find the answer in the bottom of the glass
Youll never find the answer in the bottom of the glass
Youll never find the answer in the bottom of the glass
Youll never find the answer in the bottom of the glass

song performed by by Whiskeytown
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bottom Of The Glass

song performed by by Whiskeytown
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I'll Sleep My Life Away

When dying tomorrow
is no worse than dying today,
I'll sleep my life away;
no hunger unbearable,
no pain so lacerating -
no lie to make up...
no human defamed.
The world shuts down,
the avenues sleep.
The body forgotten,
the heart stops to weep.
With clouds as my roof,
darkness, my covers...
I hover in nothingness
for nothingness is life.
Death is waking up in obscene streets
begging for food that could not satisfy -
for hunger, pain and sorrow meet
under that same old sky.
Death is waking up in misery
and remember you still breathe
the filthy air and you still see
everything obscure;
nowhere to avert to, everyone's averse.
When mirrors are horrible,
no brighter side to look upon...
when dream is but a worn-out lie,
when children's cries linger on
and there are no lullabies
but cars that hover on.
Death is waking up in agony
and remember you still breathe...
weak hands raised up, palms to the heavens
for coins to purchase bread.
Oh the cruel life you have to live,
with filthy water you just but drink -
I'll sleep my life away.
Life to me is when I close my eyes
and everything falls into place.

poem by Jessel Jane Tevar
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The Pan Within

Come with me
On a journey beneath the skin
Come with me
On a journey under the skin
We will look together
For the pan within
Close your eyes
Breathe slow well begin
Close your eyes
Breathe slow and we will begin
To look together
For the pan within
Swing your hips
Loose your head, and let it spin
Swing your hips
Loose you head, and let it spin
And we will look together
For the pan within
Close your eyes
Breathe slow and we will begin
Close your eyes
Breathe slow and we will begin
To look together
For the pan within
Put your face in my window
Breathe a night full of treasures
The wind is delicious
Sweet and wild with the promise of pleasure
The stars are alive
And nights like these
Were born to be
Sanctified by you and me
Lovers, thieves, fools and pretenders
And all we gotta do is surrender
Come with me
On a journey under the skin
Come with me
On a journey under the skin
And we will look together
For the pan within
When to be with you
Is not a sin
When to be with you, oh just to be with you
Is not a sin
We will look together
For the pan within

song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Pan Within

song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Baby Blue You've Got You

All the guests are gone
Silence on the glass brims
Their laughter will fade out
Their footsteps will be swallowed
By clear night sky

You can close the door
There they are no more

You can say ‘That’s it.’
They won’t care a bit.

All whispers are taken
Silence on the glass brims
Growing into dark
When the lights turn off
Window panes stand broken

You can close them down
They will give no sound

You’ll say ‘It’s ok.’
Try sleep for the day.

poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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A Dying Brain

Do you recall how I was once your fire –?
And we, a regal cloud of unity
Meandering through the closing blues of night,
Commanding stars to glitter;
Dawn to blush?

Your answer comes in ever-blanking stares:
A wall that blocks the know,
Damping down the glow that used to emanate
From clear and lucid eyes.
They've lost the will to recognise.

But hear! We are fifty years together –
And once we writhed in pleasure –
Drowning in emotion,
That which was our prime.

You don't recall.
You only lie as vegetation
Scattered on the ground:
A living mound of flesh,
Devoid of any neural mesh
To let you say 'I'm sound.'

Don't worry Dear,
For I'm aware with memory!
I'll tell you how we were.
We have our right of history!

If you could just concur.

Please remember, remember me, remember, remember me, remember
Please remember, remember me, remember, remember me, remember
Please remember, remember me, remember, remember me, remember
Please remember, remember me, remember, remember me, remember
Please remember, remember me, remember, remember me, remember
Please remember, remember me, remember, remember me, remember
Please remember, remember me, remember, remember me
Please remember, remember me, remember, remember
Please remember, remember me, remember
Please remember, remember me
Please remember, remember
Please remember
Please

poem by Mark R Slaughter
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At Night With The Rain

i have closed the doors
and the windows
and let go the curtains
touching the floors

i close my eyes and listen
to the rain
i dream of stars
i miss the moon

the walls close on in me
beyond the glass windows
to the sea
i hear the sad calls of the
night

outside the trees are blown
the black cat stares at me
and then some tears
begin to fall

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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En.Citatepedia®.ro

One On One With An Empty Glass

Related quotes

An Empty Glass

A Glass Of Water Please

After This Meeting

You and I together

446

A Glass Of Wine

The Insomniac Who Drew The Head Of A Sheep Wildly On A White Paper

I Dont Remember

Full Of You

Suffering Is Always Personal and Better Left Unshared and Unspoken

Tumbler Of Glass

Water On Glass

Bottom Of The Glass

Bottom Of The Glass

I'll Sleep My Life Away

The Pan Within

The Pan Within

Baby Blue You've Got You

A Dying Brain

At Night With The Rain

En.Citatepedia^®.ro