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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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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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The Swan ~ A Villanelle
Floating upon the crystal pond
She kept wearing her diamond crown
While the other white swan was gone
Never doubting their fierce loving bond
As the leaves went from reddish to brown
Floating upon the crystal pond
Her blue eyes searching far beyond
Couldn't see that he'd recently drowned
While the other white swan was gone
So curling, becoming withdrawn
When ten suns in the sky settled down
Floating upon the crystal pond
She talked to the geese that were blond
And asked where he was with a frown
While the other white swan was gone
They cared not and didn't respond
In the reeds was a kings golden crown
Floating upon the crystal pond
While the other white swan was gone
poem by Sara Fielder
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Soft On My Eyes
Pastel colors, soft and pale
muted for my sight
express a feeling of tranquilness
and so it is I write
of baby blankets,
soft and light.
And pale pink roses
that carress my eyes
and colorful sunsets
in the skies.
Of robin's eggs
in shades of blue
and aqua waters
in a tropical view.
Of soapy bubbles
that burst in air,
leaving their colors
floating somewhere.
Of springtime lilacs
that start out dark
then lighten slowly
to leave a mark
on my memory forever
so pale and sweet,
erasing the intensity of
the colors of heat.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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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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A Picture Of Colors
A picture of colors
A purple forest of colors
A balloon of colors
A blue fantasy of colors
This is what our planet should be
A whirlwind of colors
A white world of colors
A resting place of colors
A red hideaway of colors
This is what it should look like
A ‘yes' world of colors
A yellow rainbow of colors
A graced hill of colors
A green meadow of colors
An overflowing basket of colors
An orange bowl of colors
This would be a perfect place
Pale
Pale blue clouds, in a pale blue sky,
Pale sea birds, fly every which way.
O'er the pale blue sea, they softly fly,
Throughout the pale blue day.
Pale brown grass, withering alone,
Amid the sand dunes dying.
Pale as a sun bleached animal bone,
As you hear the sea breeze sighing.
Pale grey mist upon the sea,
Slowly creeping to the shore.
Pale giant tarpons jumping free,
As the pale Atlantic, gently roars.
12/3/11 Alton Texas
poem by Juan Olivarez
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The Weight of Poetry
Poetry is core of arts
It’s not strange!
Not knowing that poetry is core of all arts
It’s not strange as well!
The many who don’t know that poetry is core of all arts
It’s not a strange at all!
Although the poets usually make foes against vulgarity
A city makes the poets wandering on the streets
Should utterly lack of the manner and style
A society brings the resentment to the poets
Should fully lack of consciousness
Solitude is the major topic in life
Solitude is poetry
Lack of poetry, art is a form of imitation
Lack of poetry, power is a presumptuous mediocrity
Lack of poetry, fortune is a wealthy poverty
Lack of poetry, love is a superficial organ
The extreme of love- solitude
The extreme of wealth- solitude
The extreme of power – solitude
The extreme of art- solitude
The extreme of climax - solitude
The extreme of world - solitude
The extreme of planets- solitude
Those who have never explored loneliness
Can write down the weight of poetry?
poem by DePen Chang
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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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for Loleng
i am afraid i have been too literal
for the main reason that i want you to understand easily
what i mean
to lighten what heavy load
you have there
i am sleepy and you expect more of those
metaphors
they have all left this place
that many have misunderstood
now Loleng
each word has its own moving meaning
a dung for a cow
something that is wet for rain
each word has its own limited reality
which you must enclose and
capture
a niche for instance
and a flower
and white curtain all for a wall
but it will not be for long Loleng
when leaving is too painful when things cannot be prevented
from happening
like birth for a start then sometimes death in the middle
instead of marriage
what words will i use Loleng to comfort you?
what metaphors can i think of
to appease you
or trick you into an exit?
perhaps only silence, only silence
perhaps even nothing at all
to comfort you because
the dark nights are getting long
storms more turbulent
and many people as indifferent as
the blank stares that you
see when they shrug their shoulders
when you ran for
them for help
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Real And Unreal...
in the imaginary garden
the real toads are croaking
in that imaginary room
a real person is
thinking
in that imaginary thought
some real things
are broken.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Marriage may often be a stormy lake, but celibacy is almost always a muddy horse pond.
quote by Thomas Love Peacock
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Marriage, A Ceremonious Celebration
Marriage is the ceremonious celebration
Of two hearts becoming one, in a serious fashion.
Marriage is the ultimate feast of love, where two lover birds
Pledge that they will be together forever, amidst the roaring thunders:
When the sea is calm and inviting, when the sky
Is disturbed by unfriendly clouds, when the air is dry
And suffocating, when the flowers are blooming in springtime,
And when the children are screaming at the darkest hours of time.
Marriage is the final test of love, where two lovers swear that they will never be apart,
Two amorous hearts become one, two unselfish beings turn into one giant part
Of the mystery surrounded by imaginary swans and singing parrots.
Marriage is about sharing, loving, and enjoying life like two twin mascots.
poem by Hebert Logerie
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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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Pale Blue Eyes
Sometimes I feel so happy
Sometimes I feel so sad
Sometimes I feel so happy
But mostly you just make me mad
Baby, you just make me mad
Linger on your pale blue eyes
Linger on your pale blue eyes
Thought of you as my mountain top
Thought of you as my peak
A thought of you as everything
Ive had, but couldnt keep
Ive had, but couldnt keep
Linger on your pale blue eyes
Linger on your pale blue eyes
Skip a life completely
Stuff it in a cup
They said, money is like us in time
It lies, but cant stand up
Down for you is up
Linger on your pale blue eyes
Linger on your pale blue eyes
It was good what we did yesterday
And Id do it once again
The fact that you are married
Only proves youre my best friend
But its truly, truly a sin
Linger on your pale blue eyes
Linger on your pale blue eyes
If I could make the world as pure
And strange as what I see
Id put you in a mirror
Id put in front of me
Id put in front of me
Linger on your pale blue eyes
Linger on your pale blue eyes
Linger on your pale blue eyes
Linger on your pale blue eyes
Linger on your pale blue eyes
Linger on your pale blue eyes
Linger on your pale blue eyes
Linger on your pale blue eyes
Linger on your pale blue eyes
Linger on your pale blue eyes
Linger on your pale blue eyes
Linger on your pale blue eyes
Linger on your pale blue eyes
Linger on your pale blue eyes
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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With Nothing Underneath
You should've called out,
made amends, broken hearts breathe unison.
I was trying to gather mine.
All my tragedies are my enemies,
all my enemies are mine.
And we carry on, just to lighten the load.
Never had I been such outsider,
eyes of the blamed,
while I was trying to reclaim.
All my tragedies are my enemies,
all my enemies are mine.
And we carry on,
just to lighten the load,
and silently we sleep with nothing underneath.
With weary hands and driven nails,
I begin to rebuild myself.
The bruises uncover the scene,
the taste of the clean.
And we carry on, outlasting,
just to lighten the load,
silently we sleep
with nothing underneath.
With your voice I keep you.
Never used like this gently.
song performed by by 36 Crazyfists
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Childhood’s Retreat
It’s in the perilous boughs of the tree
out of blue sky the wind
sings loudest surrounding me.
And solitude, a wild solitude
’s reveald, fearfully, high I’d climb
into the shaking uncertainties,
part out of longing, part daring my self,
part to see that
widening of the world, part
to find my own, my secret
hiding sense and place, where from afar
all voices and scenes come back
—the barking of a dog, autumnal burnings,
far calls, close calls— the boy I was
calls out to me
here the man where I am “Look!
I’ve been where you
most fear to be.”
poem by Robert Duncan
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Cast Away
Bye-bye butterfly
Like a wilted flower
Thrown away
In the bin with the trash
Cast away because you can't have your way
Say bye-bye baby
Don't look my way
What the hell!
You have a crush on me, you can't contain
It is for the best I guess to part our ways
Do not expect me to invest
Like a peacock, you strut your stuff
Take a hike mister go jump in a lake
Don't you dare come crawling back!
poem by Persian Khushi
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