Paradox (edited)
the gods of the little nook
universe have cursed me not to be happy and not to be able
to say what i really want in order to live fully.
i know my hands
i know the significance of each line in my palm
but the words are like forceps
that are pulling my nerves
the pains are indescribable
but it is only my silence that is the clue to my redemption
i am put in a box where i am fed some trickles of light from leaks
like pores of my skin
i know what to say but when i say the first word
the box starts to tremble it is forbidden
i tried it once and some of my roots were cut
fate is treating me like a tree without leaves
out there in the fields i see images that please me
shadows of love and bliss and immeasurable joy
the immensity of my humanity
i am sure if i touch one of those little things
sands of diamonds
my back shall grow its own eagle
wings
i have never done the things that i did in dreams
my immense joy immeasurable
i am powerless as an ant whose legs are cut
when i wake up
i boast to those who follow me that i am a black bird with shiny feathers and that i have flown both edges of the world
that i am bringing with me all sorts & songs of happiness
they have never seen my heart they only heard how it sings so well
i am glad
sometimes i wish that i have a mastery of who i really am
i am free i am chained i am at war with what i was.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
A Little Paradox Spoken Tonight Aroused By Extreme Pressure
the gods of the little nook
universe
has cursed me
not to be happy and not to be able
to say
what i really want in order to live fully.
i know my hands
i know the significance of each line in my palm
but the words are like forceps
that are pulling my nerves
the pains are indescribable
but it only my silence that is the clue
to my redemption
i am put in a box
where i am fed some trickles of light from leaks
like pores
of my skin
i know what to say but when i say the first word
the box starts to tremble
it is forbidden
i tried it once and some of my roots were cut
fate is treating me like a tree without leaves
out there in the fields
i see images that please me
shadows of love and bliss and
immeasurable joy
i am sure if i touch one of those
my back shall grow its wings
i have never done the things i did in dreams
i am powerless as an ant whose legs are cut
i boast to those who follow me
that i am a black bird with shiny feathers and that i have flown
both edges of the world
that i am bringing with me
all songs of happiness
they have never seen my heart
they only heard how it sings so well
i am glad
sometimes i wish that i have a mastery of who i really am
i am free i am chained.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Last Night About The Black Bird
last night this black bird
arrived in your house
bringing you the news
from its master
your hands and feet
tremble
for this was something
very terrible
last night you went
down from your room
and reflected upon the
roots of that old
big tree on the
yard of your house
the black bird had
already flown away
like a stone
thrown in the middle
of a dark night
things always disappear
from you
you ponder
about yourself
the first hello
the happiest moment
the past passes
like a film strip
in your mind
things always tell you about
some unhappy endings
the news about a
certain blackout is inevitable
the blackbird, yes,
the blackbird, now you are pretty sure about it
it was a crow bringing you
about a sad news
the color of which is
as black as the color
of midnight.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Kindness
Things are destined to be lost
To be broken
The leaves fall and rot
At the foot of the tree
The roots soon shrink
And become part
Of the indifference of the
Rocks and the soil
Things move out
And up
Like vapor and then
Change their forms to air
But there are those that weep
And keep
Whatever was lost and destroyed
The leaves they take with their hands
And the roots
They stroke with the toes of their feet
Caress and
Kindness their virtues
That humanity has soon discarded
They grow the seeds in their hearts
They keep the fire of love
Burning
And the earth and the sun and stars
All smile at them
They too grow and scatter and travel
To all the places of this earth
Their forms too many
The gods know
They too must grow and get the world
Of the grass of sorrow
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The dawning of first light
Before the beginning was the Word
and in the emptiness God was heard.
'Let there be light, ' the Almighty said,
as newborn light shone and off it sped.
In the nothingness light exploded
each photon with God's power loaded.
Creating the vastness of space
as it shot forth at a colossal pace
Then the universe began to grow
filling the great void as it did so.
Stretching through the darkness of the night
filling the universe with virgin light.
Gods' omnipotence was there displayed
as stars and great galaxies were made.
These things immeasurable by man
The Almighty measures with a span.
Based on Genesis 1 and John 1
The Tame Bird Was In A Cage
THE tame bird was in a cage, the free bird was in the forest.
They met when the time came, it was a decree of fate.
The free bird cries, 'O my love, let us fly to the wood.'
The cage bird whispers, 'Come hither, let us both live in the cage.'
Says the free bird, 'Among bars, where is there room to spread one's wings?'
'Alas,' cries the caged bird, 'I should not know where to sit perched in the sky.'
The free bird cries, 'My darling, sing the songs of the woodlands.'
The cage bird sings, 'Sit by my side, I'll teach you the speech of the learned.'
The forest bird cries, 'No, ah no! songs can never be taught.'
The cage bird says, 'Alas for me, I know not the songs of the woodlands.'
There love is intense with longing, but they never can fly wing to wing.
Through the bars of the cage they look, and vain is their wish to know each other.
They flutter their wings in yearning, and sing, 'Come closer, my love!'
The free bird cries, 'It cannot be, I fear the closed doors of the cage.'
The cage bird whispers, 'Alas, my wings are powerless and dead.'
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Before the beginning
Before the beginning was the Word
and in the emptiness God was heard.
'Let there be light', the Almighty said,
as firstlight was born and off it sped.
Into nothingness light exploded
Each photon with God's power loaded
Creating the vastness of space
light shot forward at a colossal pace.
Then the universe began to grow
filling the vacuum as it did so.
Stretching through the darkness of the night
igniting the void with firstborn light.
Gods' omnipotence was there displayed
as stars and great galaxies were made.
These things immeasurable by man
The Almighty measures with a span.
A Story To Tell....
the images of light
like needles from the sun this morning
actually, there are no threads
and nothing to sew
actually, there are no significances
except some few
every word must have a story for you
and you may ask me
but always i agree to disagree with you
words have their own lives their own existence
i am only a vehicle
i am only a body to this ghost
for we are nothing but wings of some black birds
that hover on our backs
when they are through they all leave us
and they take all the wings they have given us in our imagination
we fall asleep and when when we wake up
we check if we are still us mirrored in the pond of still waters
our hands touch our faces
sliding through our smooth bodies
then we say, goodbye black bird
and thank you for making us live all over again.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
March Mornings
It sings to me
- the tree, the window tree.
Its leaves open as melodies
to the sheen of Spring.
It speaks to me
its words of green,
says now is the time
for everything.
It fills my dreams
with hopes and things,
making me believe
in what is yet to be.
The tree, the window tree,
brings the birds to me.
Songs come fluttering,
sliding on sun beams.
It dances the breeze,
smiles for me
on mornings like these
- absolutely free.
It sings to me
- the tree, the sweetgum tree.
Its leaves open as memories,
like love to me.
poem by W.I. Stoneberger
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
To A Silvereye
I see you almost every day you fly from tree to tree
And I envy you your happiness for you are wholly free
You tiny insect eating bird in olive fawn and gray
And I feel glad so very glad to see you every day.
No boss to order you around to tell you what to do
Wish you were me dear tiny bird and wish that I were you
For you have freedom in your wings the freedom of the sky
And I envy you your happiness dear tiny silvereye.
On garden tree and green hedgerow close to the homes of men
I see you almost every day you and your tiny kin
From garden tree to garden tree and to and fro you wing
And midst the leaves the sunlit leaves you preen and chirp and sing.
I see you almost every day from tree to tree you fly
And I envy you your happiness the freedom of the sky
And I've a wish a secret wish when my turn come to die
That I will come to life again a tiny silvereye.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Invisible Strings
(ian hunter)
One, two, three
Well I woke up this morning - theres a girl in my bed.
How did she get there? was it something I said?
I dont understand it but somehow it seems
She visits me in invisible dreams.
Over and over I try to explain
How did that girl get into my veins?
Did somebody send her - was it my velvet wings?
And how does she touch my invisible strings?
Invisible strings - invisible strings
These are a few of my favorite things
Now its all over when the fat lady sings
Ill still be playing my invisible strings
Well maybe she dont have a world of her own
Maybe shes using me just like a phone
And sometimes shes cool and sometimes she stings
And Im all tangled up in invisible strings
Invisible strings - invisible strings
These are a few of my favorite things
When youre wearing black and Im wearing wings,
Well still be playing those invisible strings
Well she never leaves - Im never alone
I aint in the book but shes still calling home
I tried to lose her - watch the tv
But that womans always picking on me
Well, theres strings round my body, strings round my heart
Id like to know where the string-pulling starts
Id give anything to meet the angel who sends
Invisible ink to my invisible pen
Invisible strings - invisible strings
These are a few of my favorite things
When youre wearing black and Im wearing wings,
Well still be playing our invisible strings
Invisible strings - invisible strings
These are a few of my favorite things
Now its all over when the fat lady sings
Well still be playing our invisible strings
Invisible strings - invisible strings
Oh yeah
song performed by by Ian Hunter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
VI
The tame bird was in a cage, the free bird was in the forest.
They met when the time came, it was a decree of fate.
The free bird cries, "O my love, let us fly to wood."
The cage bird whispers, "Come hither, let us both live in the
cage."
Says the free bird, "Among bars, where is there room to spread
one's wings?"
"Alas," cries the cage bird, "I should not know where to sit
perched in the sky."
The free bird cries, "My darling, sing the songs of the
woodlands."
The cage bird says, "Sit by my side, I'll teach you the speech of
the learned."
The forest bird cries, "No, ah no! songs can never be taught."
The cage bird says, "Alas for me, I know not the songs of the
woodlands."
Their love is intense with longing, but they never can fly wing
to wing.
Through the bars of the cage they look, and vain is their wish to
know each other.
They flutter their wings in yearning, and sing, "Come closer, my
love!"
The free bird cries, "It cannot be, I fear the closed doors of
the cage."
The cage bird whispers, "Alas, my wings are powerless and dead."
poem by Rabindranath Tagore from The Gardener (1913)
Submitted by Silvia Velea
Vote! | Copy! | In Romanian
The Wood-Nymph
-After a picture by Burne Jones-
The green leaves, ah, the green leaves cover me:
Would I might lose this unloved human life
And share the happy being of the leaves!
For lo, they live and grow and drink the sun
And sip the nectar of the heavenly showers
And have no sorrow with it; but they grow
Happily, and Pan at even blesses them.
While I, alas me hapless, I am joined
Part to their life, and all in longing to them;
Part to the gods, the bright gods whom I see
Flash through the woods at even or morn, and make
The beautiful familiar trees seem strange;
And part to mortals and their little life.
Green leaves that cover me, to you I mourn,
My sisters, my more happy sisters, ye
Rustle, rustle in the summer air,
With happy cries of birds among your boughs:
Be happy, though I am not happy. Nay,
I am not all unhappy, evermore.
One while a bird sings on the topmost bough
And my heart sings, forgetting life and death
And sorrow: so forgetting I were blest,
And bliss the gods deny me. When they walk
The forest before sundawn--Artemis,
Girt for the chase and followed by her hounds,
Queen Herê or another, ere the dawn,
Or Aphrodite with the rosy dawn--
I may not speak my longings, but they pass,
Pass unregardful to their happy heaven.
They see me not--not me, akin to Gods!
These tears are vain.--When mortals pass at eve,
Treading a delicate path between the trees,
Pale mortal men and women, with their loves--
It pains me that I see them, for I know
I am not as they are, and cannot share
The little love that fills their little life--
Vain, vain; and they too pass and see me not.
Ah me, dear leaves, forsaken of gods and men,
And sad because I cannot live their life,
Will you not love me whom none others love?
Will you not teach me how to live your life,
My sisters, my more happy sisters?--live
In peace and quietness and still content,
And freshen and fade and freshen and have no care
And have no longing, full of peace to live,
Forgetting thus for ever life and death
And Gods and men and sorrow and delight.
poem by Arthur Symons
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Today... 'The Creator of heaven and earth
Each sub atomic particle
sprang into being at your call.
You formed the greatest galaxy
when You spoke the words 'Let there be'
All things You have created Lord
by Your powerful spoken word.
In You all things are kept in harmony
Without You Lord, nothing would be.
Creator of the universe
Your creation is so diverse
Things immeasurable to man
are measured by You in a span
In this scale of diversity
such smallness and immensity.
Somewhere in between them fits man
who is central in Your great plan.
When You created man Oh Lord
it was not by Your spoken word.
Instead You knelt upon the ground
gathered the dust into a mound.
Atoms knitted together there
forming man with such tender care.
There as the lips of God met his
life then entered him with a kiss.
(see also the additional information in the Poet's notes box below)
Of Mere Being
The palm at the end of the mind,
Beyond the last thought, rises
In the bronze decor,
A gold-feathered bird
Sings in the palm, without human meaning,
Without human feeling, a foreign song.
You know then that it is not the reason
That makes us happy or unhappy.
The bird sings. Its feathers shine.
The palm stands on the edge of space.
The wind moves slowly in the branches.
The bird's fire-fangled feathers dangle down.
poem by Wallace Stevens
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
Vote! | Copy! | In Romanian
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
The free bird leaps
on the back of the wind
and floats downstream
till the current ends
and dips his wings
in the orange sun rays
and dares to claim the sky.
But a bird that stalks
down his narrow cage
can seldom see through
his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and
his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.
The caged bird sings
with fearful trill
of the things unknown
but longed for still
and is tune is heard
on the distant hillfor the caged bird
sings of freedom
The free bird thinks of another breeze
an the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn
and he names the sky his own.
But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing
The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.
poem by Maya Angelou
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
My Heart Sings
My heart sings.
My heart sings the songs of happiness.
My heart sings the songs of joy.
My heart sings the songs of peace.
My heart sings the songs of the Blues.
My heart sings the songs of the Gospel.
My heart sings the songs of good news.
My heart cries a melody for all to hear.
My heart sings the harmonies of love.
My heart sings a song of beauty
that comes from the Thorne Birds
just before they die.
My heart sings songs to keep me alive.
My heart sings songs for as long as it beats.
My heart sings forever.
My heart sings haluwasa.
My heart sings.
poem by Jennifer Burns
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Caged Bird
The free bird leaps
on the back of the wind
and floats downstream
till the current ends
and dips his wings
in the orange sun rays
and dares to claim the sky.
But a bird that stalks
down his narrow cage
can seldom see through
his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and
his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.
The caged bird sings
with fearful trill
of the things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom
The free bird thinks of another breeze
and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn
and he names the sky his own.
But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing
The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.
poem by Maya Angelou (1994)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
Vote! | Copy! | In Spanish | In Romanian
My Heart Worships You (Psalm)
O Lord, this world has nothing
To offer for my happiness
I found in You my everything
My life's so wonderfully blessed.
From birth, Lord, You have known me
You wove me in my mother's womb
You care for me so faithfully-
Love from the cradle to my tomb.
All my days are in Your Book,
You know the words that leave my lips,
My heart has yearned for years to look
For You the God that I worship.
Now You have found me I will be
All Yours my God for eternity,
Your love like Fire consumes completely,
Justice, Righteousness there for me.
Why should I fear the words of man?
No weapon formed against me stands,
Your Word refutes each one of them,
And through it all You hold my hand.
You are my God, I worship You!
My heart will glorify in praise-
All works You've done and what You are:
The God of Kindness, Love and Peace.
I soar on wings like an eagle's
Oh my spirit soars in Your wings!
Of mourning there's very little
For my heart in joy and love, it sings!
Your will is all that I desire,
To follow You where You lead me
And loving You I'll never tire,
Each breath I take to worship Thee.
'Let not the wise man boast of his wisdom,
or the strong man boast of his strength,
or the rich man boast of his riches.
but let him who boasts, boast abou this:
that he understand and knows Me,
That I am the Lord, Who exercises Kindness, Justice,
and Righteousness on earth....for in these I delight.'
JEREMIAH 9: 23-24
------------------
Copyright Cynthia Buhain-Baello
April 12,2009
Philippines
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Just For Love
Just about love, like the wing of some high-flying bird,
Of the songs I will sing to you, you can hear every word,
That I ever heard come to you.
Of the people I've been, of the visions I have seen,
Of the things I think about, of situations that I can hear sometimes,
And the places I have been at times, just trying to be,
These things can only happen once in a lifetime,
These things can only matter here if you have time.
Someone will touch you softly and it will be me,
Someone will call your name and then come to me, free.
Free as the wind, free as the rain falling,
Free as the night, free as nature calling ...
song performed by by Quicksilver Messenger Service
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Because It Sings....
there is a man inside the cage
but you cannot tell that he is a man
because
by all appearances of it
it has black wings, sharp claws, it is muted
by a beak
it can only sing in syllables
it is wrapped by
shiny feathers
it is a bird, a black bird and by all means
you cannot tell
that it is angry
because it sings.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!