Open Palms
morning demands
the laying of open palms
on the table
and the palms agree
and then the wind comes
and took all the lines away
the hands do not mind
this is the last day of the body
the heart is full of joy
the mind has no word
the eyes close
and the lips finally sealed
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Mistake
it was a different thing that you see
from that you feel
a war between the bulge of the eyes
and the pumps of the heart
the lines of the palms are clear
nobody wants to mind now
in the middle of too much desire
it is the heart that wins
slashing the blinks of the wondering eyes
the lines of the palms are clear
there is no doubt
the heart bleeds upon its mistake
and begins to remember the veils
and the sonorous sounds of the funeral bells of
the little town
the lines of the palms are clear
there is no doubt about it
at the end every part shall accept the fate
no regret
once again the self rides upon the wings of destiny
until the final word of the years rest
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Morning Flash
it comes as a flash.
A body.
At first it is just lines and curves.
There is no minding at all
about anything else.
Then follows the scent that
compliments
its newly acquired
existence
its desirability enhanced
by the warmth
of morning hues
by the window of the house.
The scent brings in some
memories of
youth
some places of the heart
like a grassy hill
and an
abandoned hut
faraway.
After a while it is not just
the body
but the tongue
and palms.
The mind starts to creep in
like a cloud
and sunshine from
the south.
IT demands something more
It is not just these memories
and feelings
those touches of hues
and colors and
scents
and eventually taste.
And then the movement.
It coils around you
This psyche
This soul and then you go deeper
into a form
of regret.
This is not the body that you like
But the lines and curves
of some long forgotten
circumstances that want to be
repeated
too often
but can never be
Because there is only one body
one soul
and it is not there
anymore.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Door Between Two Worlds
this the door between our two worlds
it divides the inside and the outside
the light and the darkness
the choice is yours
there is no lock
there is only the hinge that holds the door to its place
when you open it
there is no sound
and when you close it
there is only this silence of the air sealed inside our minds
my heart does not sing inside
it is muted by the darkness that moment your gentle hands
close the door
it is patient, the mind
the incompatibilities of the things outside us
are too inviting
they tempt us to step outside and promise us
the magical wonders of freedom
we feel so light like our joys like cottons and clouds
they are no different from our wishes
i am in the middle of this door between us
& you look at me like i am the last man of this earth
your heart opens with eyes too careful not to know
what i do next is the suspense of this uncertainty
your eyes close, my heart bleeds
my hands wilt, your mind wanders like a lost wind
the door closes finally
walling us in
it locks upon itself and
the world sleeps soundly curling its feet on the beds of the
heavens
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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You in your closed bleeding hands
The palm that closes
Cannot hold anything
Just like this narrow mind
Unable to grapple with
What is newly given
I see your fingers are closed
I tried to tickle you so they may open
I tried to tell you something puzzling
You closed your fingers some more
What is it that you are hiding there?
It is causing you so much pain
Your hands bleed, please open them
Is it the nail? Is it a broken glass?
You are not nodding still
Is it something so important?
That even with death you still refuse?
You are not nodding still
You shake your head, you keep mum
And numb to what I am asking
So be it, close your fingers
Hide the lines in your palms
Let your hands bleed some more
We shall wait what happens next
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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And The Grass Won't Pay No Mind (Undubbed Master)
Listen easy, you can hear God calling
Walking barefoot by the stream
Come on to me, Your hair's softly falling
On my face as in a dream
And the time will be our time
And the grass won't pay no mind
Saying nothing, lying where the sun is
Baking down upon our sides
My lips touch you, with their soft wet kisses
Your hands gentle in reply
And the time will be our time
And the grass won't pay no mind
Child, touch my soul with your cries
And the music will know what we've found
I, hear a hundred good-byes
But today I hear only one sound
The moment we're living is now
Now now now now now now now
Young bird flying, and a soft wind blowing
Cools the sweat inside my palms
Close my eyes, hear the flowers growing
As you lay sleeping in my arms
And the time will be our time
And the grass won't pay no mind
No the grass won't pay no mind
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Valediction Inside The Room
do not hate me,
for i am, this is all that i have
wind in your palms
when you close
you know what happens
when you open again
you know what is next
love me then for what i am
a rose in your lips
when you say something
like
i love you
you know what happens next
surely.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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rose on his lips by Emma z.
do not hate me,
for i am, this is all that i have
wind in your palms
when you close
you know what happens
when you open again
you know what is next
love me then for what i am
a rose in your lips
when you say something
like
i love you
you know what happens next
surely
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Me the instrument
Music is in my mind
Iam full of glee
My fingers tapping the table
While my palms beat as a drum
My lips pucker and being to whistle
Iam really feeling this souful strum
My feet tapping the floor
It is really fun
Allowing my body to be an instrument
As I gaze at sun
For there is music on the inside
A harmonic hum
If I gave this instrument a name
Iam not quiet sure what it would be
Therefore to keep things simple and
From becoming complicate
I shall simply term this authentic instrument as Me
poem by Angel A. Lockwood
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My Hands
my hands have ten rivers
there are furrows of sorrows in the destiny of my palms
no mountain peaks to view the world
holistically,
my hands have ten crystal clear ponds
my hands mirror my face
my hands surrender
my hands open
they are all yours too and you are so cruel
you are telling me like you detest me in the residence of your full moon
you do not need rivers, you had enough of my surrender, you are ashamed
of open hands, you touch me and then you make a plea
'please close your hands and with your ten rivers, please sail away from me! '
i know what a full moon is. I too had enough of its light and silence.
i have the nerves of the stars, and i know what sailing away means.
let me thank you for your dark skies, your clouds are too heavy for me.
i am raining tears, too salty for my ten rivers.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Life That Is Full
your palms open
your heart
some more
desire drips like
drops of
melting vanilla
ice cream
simply joys
like buds
pleasures like
palms spreading
leaves like
umbrellas under
the sun
merry, merry
dancing feet
hands holding
side by side
alleluia!
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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And The Grass Wont Pay No Mind
(words & music by neil diamond)
Listen easy, you can hear God calling
Walking barefoot by the stream
Come on to me, your hairs softly falling
On my face as in a dream
And the time will be our time
And the grass wont pay no mind
Saying nothing, lying where the sun is
Baking down upon our sides
My lips touch you, with their soft wet kisses
Your hands gentle in reply
And the time will be our time
And the grass wont pay no mind
Child, touch my soul with your cries
And the music will know what weve found
I, hear a hundred good-byes
But today I hear only one sound
The moment were living is now
Now now now now now now now
Young bird flying, and a soft wind blowing
Cools the sweat inside my palms
Close my eyes, hear the flowers growing
As you lay sleeping in my arms
And the time will be our time
And the grass wont pay no mind
No the grass wont pay no mind
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To Cut a Long Story Short
Your lips like cherries fresh
from the garden
Your breasts enough to fill
my palms
My hands tremble when I picture
your breasts
The way our lips merged together
without space between us while
our tongues played hide and seek
Your eyes i miss to drown inside
I miss your fingers caressing my body
The scent of your detailed body and
the fragrance of your smile
I miss the two of us
poem by Moffat Mbuzi
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Yours Is Too Crude
i felt the surface
yours is crude, too superficial
but i do not mind
i keep touching it and slide
my hands around
the edges of your thing
and then i reflect upon
what i have been doing
yes, yours is more like mine
crude, superficial
straightforward, and
flowing
soft like sky blue linens
and cheap for the mindless public
but we continue doing it
day by day
truly, sincerely, and
therapeutically
what we do
does not kill us anyway
in any way
we have found expression
in words
and pity (and love perhaps?)
yet look at us
we do not appear as beggars
wearing dark glasses
and holding a tin can on our hands
we are here
to speak but i guess
we never beg
for ears
we have legs to stand
throughout this agony
and then the children
come around us
wondering if we are humans
confused if they too shall be like us
everyday we keep repeating
what we are
and then the world knows
but keeps on spinning
the morning light still lands
on the lines of our open palms
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Turn-Off
i remember
the two of us
under the thick
palms
we are alone
and you touch me
begging
you want me to
show you
my naked body
under the palms
beside the
river
i declined.
i left
i shudder about
that fact.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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About You (how Disappointed I Was)
what happened to me
you never predicted
it was like the story of
the ugly duckling
despite the weakness of
my past
the hardness of the stones
(the unfeeling body)
and the shortness of the
vision of that horizon
i have remained
more than what i am
i must have disappointed you
who never think that
success may come to someone
without the royalty of
the lines of the palms
it is i
who is severely disappointed
for you never changed
your mind has always
been a door closed
your heart
a stone house without windows
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Patteran
From over the leagues of ice and snow, and the miles of scorching sand;
From back of the days of long ago, and the lonely sea and land—
To the end of the world and our Gipsy race, to the death of our dark-eyed line,
I have set the lines on my children’s palms as my fathers did on mine,
That the world shall know and my name shall glow in the light of the aftershine—
I have set the lines on my children’s palms as my fathers did on mine.
I have given them health and strength, pure blood, clear skins for a glorious youth;
I have set in their souls contempt for sham, and a deathless regard for truth;
I have bequeathed the spirit to fight, I have given the will to rise,
And the slumbering fires of Hate and Love in their dreaming, dreaming eyes.
That the world shall know and my name shall glow in the light of the aftershine,
I have set the lines on my children’s palms as my fathers did on mine.
I have given the love for their native land, wherever that land may be
(My children came from the East, my friends, and round by the Northern Sea),
And a son of a son of mine enemy, to the end of his treacherous line,
Shall be stricken to earth, if he dare but speak, by a son of a son of mine.
That the world shall know and my name shall glow in the light of the aftershine,
I have set the lines on my children’s palms as my fathers did on mine.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Open Palms (Kissing You Goodbye)
I've been here so long
That I've forgotten
Where I am
Trapped
Suffocating
Straight-jacketed
Clasped
So tightly
In your hands
Don't get me wrong
These prison walls
Are more lovely than most
And I wouldn't mind
Being held
If it wasn't for the host
You keep me here
With no hope of
Being set free
And if I'll ever
Climb from your
Hands to your heart
There is no guarantee
That you'll even let me stay
And now I've caught a draft
And I'm not sure if with you
I want to play
So I believe its
Time for you
To let me have reprieve
And I'll softly kiss goodbye
Your open palms
Before I take
My leave
poem by Aria Siren
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Heart And Minf Fight
My mind says,
Stay in the room
My heart says,
See the universe
My mind says,
She has only a body
My heart says,
She has a beautiful soul
My mind says,
Get the degree
My heart says,
Get the knowledge
My mind says,
Kill the neighbor
My heart says,
Love the neighbor
My mind says,
Plunder the entire world
My heart says,
Give to the world
My mind says,
God is not here
My heart says,
God is here
My mind says,
Rule on the earth
My heart says,
Live equal on the earth
My mind says,
Invent new weapons
My heart says,
Keep the peace
My mind says,
He is a small man
My heart says,
He is a big man
My mind says
He is ignorant
My heart says,
He is wise
My mind says,
Live for money
My heart says,
Live in love
My mind says,
He heart you
My heart says,
Forget his mistake
My mind says,
Don’t agree with his opinion
My heart says,
I respect his opinion
My mind says,
You are great poet
My heart says,
You are nothing
poem by Aroon George
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Confessions Before the 'I DO
So many words i wanna say
Yet only few find its way out
Oh God its hard. Funny huh?
No, don't stop, keep smiling
I am gonna say it now, infront of God, the priest, and everyone
And just one look in your eyes
Its all the strength Imma need to tell you this
In my head, I have seen myself scoring goals in a cup final
And imagined playing golf on the moon
But, never in my wildest dream did i ever think
I had the guts to tell you this, right here, right now
But this has been burried in my heart for too long
And it is time it came out, and you heard it as an individual
For after this, we are no longer different people, but one person
I know I don't have the fancy lines of a poet
Or the creativity of an artist
To deeply express the joy my heart feels
But what I do have are eyes that worship every part of your being
And hands that are blessed to touch you
And i know right here, right now
That you are my better half
You are way better than playing golf on the moon
Or scoring an injury time goal
I know these words are not lines you dream of
Or might probably be the corniest you ever heard
But anytime i try to describe the way i feel
My mind and heart never seem to agree
For what my heart feels, the mind only understands
But cannot find the words for the tongue to express
All I wanna say now is I do
I do want you to make me whole
I do want to see that lips smile each day
I do want to smell the scent of your hair
I do want your face to be the first thing I see each morning
I do respect you
I do appreciate you
I do love you
I truely do
poem by Ronald Doku
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Those moments
as you begin
you make decisions that end
a certain moment
something escapes like a bird from your hand
but that is what it is going to be
wings are always wings
and the hands and palms are but what you claim you have
there is a satisfaction
of flight for those destined to fly
in the same manner there is more to a home
as it is too destined to stay
there is no gauge to all these but the heart that sings
during those moments of cold rain
there is no point of return
for one who has finally decided to be just oneself
a home a sofa and a window that you close
because finally it is dark ....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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