Paghubad Sa Balak Ni Candice #2
Aging
A calm afternoon
Sudden wind touching the pond
Wrinkling reflection
Agi
Kalmado nga japon
Kalit nga hanging mitats sa pond’s cream
Kunitz nga samin
(pwede pud)
hapon nga kalmado
kalit nga nagtsansing ang hangin sa sapa
nangunot na saon na lang
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Hunahunaon Lang Sa
karong kalmado na ko sa akong kaugalingon
ako lang sang hunahunaon
pag-ayo ang gihunghong nimo nako
sa hangin gikan
sa baybay
lisod na
kon motoo ta dayon karon
daghang mga makalanag nga botete
diha sa Oslob
mamatay nya tag kalit
kanang dili na gani
kapanamilit
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Fishes' Message, Poet: Sohrab Sepehri
I went to the pond
Hoping to see the reflection of my loneliness in the water
There was no water in the pond.
The fishes were saying:
'"It is not the trees' fault at all.
It was a sultry summer noon,
The bright son of water, sat by the pond's edge
And the eagle of the sun dived down and lifted him up & up in the air.
To hell with our not reaching any oxygen from water.
And the glitter has left our scales all together.
Instead, that big light,
The reflection of that red carnation in the water
Whose heart, if the wind was blowing, would beat behind the layers of neglect,
was our eyes.
It was a window to the confession of paradise.
If you see God in the palpitations of the garden,
Make an effort and tell him that the fishes'' pond is dry.'"
The wind was going to visit the plane tree,
I was going to visit God.
poem by Mehraneh Hosseini
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Water so Deep and Profound
Water so sinuous and devious,
And as mystifying as you.
Water is always hiding its true self,
Never in one form.
Water can be the shimmer,
Reflecting off the light of the pond,
Making the pond seem magnificent.
Water can be the rushing sound,
As it escapes the secretive pond,
And runes down into the vast ocean,
Seeking adventure and unfound dreams.
Water can be the feeling of calmness,
As it sits there, overlooking the pond,
With wonder and seeing how it made it what it is.
Water so supple and wondrous,
The pond is born from the water.
Water so deep and profound,
Just like you,
The pond so incomplete without water,
Just like your family.
poem by Music Galore
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Sa Mga Sagbot Nga Haskang Hiloma
kahibawong motago ang mga kasakit
og kahiubos sa usa ka dapit diin dili na
sila makit-an
morag mga tagolilong
morag aso
morag mga hinungaw sa init
kaayo nga yuta nga kalit lang
giulan sa usa ka kaudtohon
sa Marso
ang imong makita mao na lamang
ang pahiyom sa adlaw
nga mihalok sa yuta nga
kaganiha nag-alburoto
ang imong mabati mao na lamang
ang huyohoy sa hangin
ang awit sa usa ka tamsi nga mibatog
sa punoan sa bayabas
ang imong makita mao na lamang
ang mga pungpong sa mga hinog
nga bunga nga andam na nga mahulog
diha sa kasagbotan
nga haskang hiloma
diha sa imong pahiyom
nga haskang hilawa
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I Could Have Told You
THAT YELLOW
SOLO LEAF floating on a very clear pond,
was it last summer?
will it really matter when someone is finally gone?
will the wind remember?
will the deep water of the pond be always true to its clarity and peace?
that yellow leaf that sank on the very clear pond on one peaceful day
will someone still remember?
i think, i will,
if i, too, shall live
longer than
you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Your mind is like water in a pond
Observe the water in a pond
Keep it still and particles will sediment to ground
Only then the surface becomes transparent and clear
Our reflections we can view without a blur
When wind blows and creates waves on the surface
Those sediments will be stirred up and make the water opaque
Then the water surface is no longer transparent and clear
And our reflections in it will become just blurs
Our mind is like water in that pond
Only when still and calm it can be clear and strong
If we let external forces disturb our still and calm mind
By those things we will be controlled and beguiled.
poem by Henry Chen
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Today
Once many walked behind me on
The same path while
Nobody has ever walked before me-
Every time I look behind
Someone is approaching me-
I could see my reflection in a pond nearby or perhaps, in a mirror-
Yesterday is gone and
Nobody knows what tomorrow shall bring-
I tell myself that
Whatever lurks behind is none but a
Memory of yesterday and
I must not look behind because
All that happened yesterday is none but a threat to me.
I shall keep looking at my reflection
Whether it be in a pond, a mirror or
Perhaps I may see none but a shadow-
But these are all the same.as
I have learned to believe in myself,
And to live only for today-
Yesterday shall soon be forgotten-
Shadows always disappear but
I shall always be true to my reflection-
Only because my reflection always reveals the present moment-
I have lost many a shadow along the paths I have walked and
I can only fantasize of how I would like tomorrow to be;
Some memories of yesterday
Are entertaining but beyond my ability to grasp-
Today I call a branch upon a tree-
Which I can always hold onto and perceive, while
My shadow has once again slipped through my fingertips-
That path before me is never ending-
I can only dream of what tomorrow may bring, but
Today is a blossoming flower or a rainbow on the horizon-
Today I have nothing to fear as
My reflection belongs to me alone and nobody can ever take away
What I can clearly see before me-
poem by Claudia Krizay
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Kon Pwede Lang Unta Nga I-simplify Ang Tanan
kon pwede lang unta ang akong kalibotan
usa lang ka lata sa sardinas
abrihan ug kan-on ang sulod
daginoton ang sauce dayon pagkahuman
ilabay ang lata sa basurahan
ug dayon manug-ab ko sa kabusog
ug dayon moharay-haray sa duyanan
nga gisab-itsa tunga sa duha ka punoan
sa lubi sa daplin sa baybayon
apan dili diay pwede kay ang kalibotan ko
nga lata usahay mataparan man sa hait
nga sundang ug lapad nga tadtaran
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Paghubad Sa Balak Ni Candice # 10
a chasm in time
buried in my thoughts-
a leaf sinking deeper and
deeper...in the pond
Liki sa panahon
Nahulog nga dahon
Sa champaca
Mitusak sa nawong
Sa linaw nga
sapa
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Maya
little brown birds with grey beaks and a patch of black
on their heads
three of them
drinking water on a pond of water created
by the little rain this morning
as i go near them
they all look at me and then in a sudden
they all fly away leaving some ripples in the
muddled pond
i never think of them as my enemies
they all leave at once
i do not have a gun
or a club or a slingshot
what i have in my hands are rice grains, nothing but rice grains
yes, rice grains for all of them
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Duck Pond
There's a pond at the centre of the village green,
Where ducks, moorhen and coot can be seen.
It's a feature which adds to the character and charm.
When sat by the pond, you feel a real sense of calm.
Pond-skaters and other small insects on the water skate:
The surface tension supporting their miniscule weight.
Waving their heads, the long, lush, green reeds,
Provide partial shelter for a fish as it feeds.
A frog pops its head up and looks around,
Then slips back under the water with a plopping sound.
Darting this way and that, are beautiful blue dragonflies:
Their motion so quick, they're gone in the blink of an eye.
There's sweet gallingale, marsh marigold and watercress,
But, for me, the pretty pink water lilies are by far the best.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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The Village Pond
Here, there, women, children and men
Talk animatedly, little water waves disrupted by scooping
Water vessels, the faded green water lilies, shoved aside.
Cows moo, the goats bleat,
School children scramble for a spill,
The edges, slippery and muddy, non of a bother.
The gold, liquid of life, simmers under the hot sun,
Though, shrinking in size, by every draw,
The earth is bare, the pond tags their hope.
Here in the pond, they see, sigh and fall
The feminine and masculine bodies attract
The gossip, filters, confirmed, a new life sees dawn.
Wild tree fruits, like monsters surround the village pond
I'm told the fruits, purify the village pond
Lives ruled, made to see day, Honor to the village pond.
poem by Charles Jagongo Ogola
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I'm Willing To Be A Pond!
O' Moon,
if I can see your reflection in me,
I am willing to be a pond!
poem by V.K. Kanniappan
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I think the art world... is a very small pond, and it's a very inbred pond. They rely on information from an elect elite sect of galleries, primarily in New York.
quote by Thomas Kinkade
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Your Catfish Friend
If I were to live my life
in catfish forms
in scaffolds of skin and whiskers
at the bottom of a pond
and you were to come by
one evening
when the moon was shining
down into my dark home
and stand there at the edge
of my affection
and think, "It's beautiful
here by this pond.I wish
somebody loved me,"
I'd love you and be your catfish
friend and drive such lonely
thoughts from your mind
and suddenly you would be
at peace,
and ask yourself, "I wonder
if there are any catfish
in this pond?It seems like
a perfect place for them."
poem by Richard Brautigan
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The Clouds Of Narcissus
the clouds of narcissus pass by today
along a clear pond by the side of a rice paddy
they stop to get a good glimpse of their faces and bodies
cottony white, shades of blue, pluffy, and soft
they stop and take a longer gaze, admiring every
beauty of its hands and fingers, a longer time
an island of grass some reeds and dry leaves
get curious about what is happening why the clouds
stop and made a longer stare over the clear reflection
of their bodies on the little pond. They talk. They are curious.
and then the clouds finally get done with what is usual.
they left. Slowly sail away from what they are seeing lovingly.
Nothing happens since then. They own no one.No one owns them.
They leave. They do not know how to love. Neither are they loved.
They are gone. The island of grass is silent. The reeds hush.
And the pond has become murky.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Twelve O'Clock
Mother, I do want to leave off my lessons now. I have been at my
book all the morning.
You say it is only twelve o'clock. Suppose it isn't any later;
can't you ever think it is afternoon when it is only twelve
o'clock?
I can easily imagine now that the sun has reached the edge of
that rice-field, and the old fisher-woman is gathering herbs for
her supper by the side of the pond.
I can just shut my eyes and think that the shadows are growing
darker under the madar tree, and the water in the pond looks shiny
black.
If twelve o'clock can come in the night, why can't the night
come when it is twelve o'clock?
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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Gaba
Sa dihang molarga na unta
Namugos nga mokuyog gayod ang bana
Walay nahimo ang asawa
Sa dihang mogawas na unta sa baba
Sa barge ang bus nga ilang
Gisakyan gikan sa tiil sa Mukas
Hunong sa agtang sa Ozamis
Kalit lang mibuto ang bomba
Nga gitanom sa terorista
Sa lubot sa Rural Transit
Nga ilang gikatulgan
Nasunog ang tanan nga wala
Moambak sa dagat sa tumang
Kahikurat ug ang ilang mga matang
Nagsulirat wala gani tagad kapiyong
Sa dihang gidali dali silag kuha
Sa limbong sa kamatayon
Ug ikaw sa way kukalooy miingon lamang
Ug “Gaba! ”
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Ripple Of That Last Leaf....
like the leaves falling from the trees
yellowed and light
blown by the wind to the ponds
like a last sigh
from the muteness of its capillaries
this last leaf
as it lands on the pond
shall make the ripples
in your calm
atmosphere....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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