Related quotes: three well covered farmers plow...

Reality...two

three well covered farmers
plow the rice fields
beating the carabao
under a drizzle of soft rain
this november

at the right side of this scenery
a herd of carabaos graze
vast expanse of grass and
beside them two children flying kites.

on the telephone wire
two finches watch

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes

A Rural View Of My Village

today the women wearing buri hats are planting rice
on the muddy rice fields of Katipunan

the sun is up
the petals of white flowers are
still holding on to their dews

the finches are flying low
and hovering on the grass

the buffaloes are grazing on the field
the children are chasing chickens
and playing with the dogs

the amor secos are growing wild still uncut
as the some men are singing songs with their old guitars

a wooden sled filled with wood is hauled by a big spotted cow
the path is covered with stones that grate their sounds in the open air....

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Giving the carabao feelings of wings

The carabaos are grazing again
It is summer and
The white herons are teeming
On the green fields

Some take the usual sight
Of friendship
The white heron on top
Of the carabao’s back

They are so close I wonder
If there is this familiarity
Between them
Their friendship has lasted
For centuries

They say the white herons
Feed on carabao's lice
And to repay the kindness
The carabao gives the bird
Its free ground ride

I disagree totally
There is no pecking that I see
And there is no distance
Whatsoever that the carabao gives

This is friendship, this is a picture
Of friendship, the heron is giving
The carabao the feel of its white wings.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Plain Citizen Juan De La Cruz

he thinks he is part of the government,
correct,
he is part of the people whom the government taxed
taking his money
and later some of his property, his chicken, his pig, his carabao
his plow,
then the government enters into war
plain juan de la cruz becomes the soldier
killing another soldier
in the killing fields in the mine fields he will soon lose his arm
if not both his feet

plain juan de la cruz
then the rebels come, the insurgents, the belligerents
juan de la cruz is not in his house
his wife and children are now the pawns
the victims
the servants
the wife cooks for the comrades the child runs to the nearby store
to buy cigarettes and liquour
then they too will ask for the chicken, the pigs, the carabao,
the rice and some vegetables and beans and
a little money to support their cause

plain juan de la cruz
plain citizen, will he survive the war on both sides?

let us have a sandwich
for a metaphor, this poem looks like it,
plain de la cruz is in between

and he has no choice.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Lonely Bird On The Electric Wire

this afternoon i take a walk leading to the farm
it is harvest time
and i see the harvesters cutting the rice stalks filled with golden grains
they would group what they gather at a certain place
mounds and mounds of rice grains this time of a bumper year

on the other side are carabaos grazing
lots of grass to graze adding the recently cut rice stalks

i look at the clouds white and blue and shades of both
my attention is however caught by a single bird perched on the electrical wire connecting two poles about 30 meters apart

it is alone there
and i move closely to see whether it is really a bird

indeed it is one of the sparrows in the ricefield
but so unlike the rest it
it is sitting there alone.

our eyes met.

and i tell my wife about this lonely bird.

she says i am just making a metaphor

i sit alone in my garden now after dining

and i wonder if the bird flew back to its nest or to some territory of its own
where their species also live
and i wonder if the bird must be also telling the other birds that it saw
a man walking alone on that path leading to the farm
and unlike other men he prefers to walk alone
and i also think that perhaps the bird would also take issue about the fact that indeed

our eyes met

and i know the other birds would say
that it is nothing but also a sort of metaphor and to the least that

it is nothing but a kind of fable.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Plow Of My Papa

today is the last day to sell the plow of my papa
it is a necessary part of his lifetime
in fact
his lifetime is the plow itself that made the lines
of his own poetry in the fields
of rice and corn
today another man shall have it
at the price we all wanted
we have sold all that he had
the land, the house, the trees he planted
when he was still alive
when he was still strong and cruel and so imposing

this is his only plow
and we have dedided to dispose it finally
to any man

we are now at the stage of reconstructing our lives
and the plow of papa must go

we shall have our own fields now of rice and corn
on a white canvass we draw

the new sun, its color shall be warm, something new really
to the feel of our skins

the darker ones shall be replaced by the flowing color
of the clouds like feathers of birds always ready to fly away

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Rain On A Scarecrow

Scarecrow on a wooden cross Blackbird in the barn
Four hundred empty acres that used to be my farm
I grew up like my daddy did My grandpa cleared this land
When I was five I walked the fence while grandpa held my hand
Rain on the scarecrow Blood on the plow
This land fed a nation This land made me proud
And Son I'm just sorry there's no legacy for you now
Rain on the scarecrow Blood on the plow
Rain on the scarecrow Blood on the plow
The crops we grew last summer weren't enough to pay the loans
Couldn't buy the seed to plant this spring and the Farmers Bank foreclosed
Called my old friend Schepman up to auction off the land
He said John it's just my job and I hope you understand
Hey calling it your job ol' hoss sure don't make it right
But if you want me to I'll say a prayer for your soul tonight
And grandma's on the front porch swing with a Bible in her hand
Sometimes I hear her singing "Take me to the Promised Land"
When you take away a man's dignity he can't work his fields and cows
There'll be blood on the scarecrow Blood on the plow
Blood on the scarecrow Blood on the plow
Well there's ninety-seven crosses planted in the courthouse yard
Ninety-seven families who lost ninety-seven farms
I think about my grandpa and my neighbors and my name
And some nights I feel like dyin' Like that scarecrow in the rain
Rain on the scarecrow Blood on the plow
This land fed a nation This land made me proud
And Son I'm just sorry they're just memories for you now
Rain on the scarecrow Blood on the plow
Rain on the scarecrow Blood on the plow
Rain on the scarecrow Blood on the plow
This land fed a nation This land made me proud
And Son I'm just sorry they're just memories for you now
Rain on the scarecrow Blood on the plow
Rain on the scarecrow Blood on the plow

song performed by by John Mellencamp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Paco De Lucia In Guitar Strings

the guitar strings of paco de lucia
are not new to me
the sound of his spanish guitar
strumming on my mind
they were with me
in my childhood
with my friends
we get a smooth
long and strong
coconut palm
take it on top
of a hill
covered with green
carabao grass
and we ride
on the palm
slide it
on the hill
and

yehey
yehehey
yehey yehey

we laugh
so hard
my little
brown friends
that
the foreign
white visitors
call monkeys

we take
the coconut palm
on top of the hill
we ride on it
and we slide
on the
hill
green
with
carabao grass
grass

yehey
yehehey
yehey

we tumble
and roll
when we
reach the
foot of the hill
covered with
green
carabao
grass
we
crash

there may
be some bruises
on our arms
and
legs
but we
laugh
we enjoy
the sliding
the falling
the crashing
on the green
green
carabao
grass
we
crash

yehey
yehehey
yehehey

we are
the happy
little brown
monkeys

yehey
yehehey
yehey

we are
happy.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Rain On The Scarecrow

Scarecrow on a wooden cross blackbird in the barn
Four hundred empty acres that used to be my farm
I grew up like my daddy did my grandpa cleared this land
When I was five I walked the fence while grandpa held my hand
Chorus:
Rain on the scarecrow blood on the plow
This land fed a nation this land made me proud
And son Im just sorry theres no legacy for you now
Rain on the scarecrow blood on the plow
Rain on the scarecrow blood on the plow
The crops we grew last summer werent enough to pay the loans
Couldnt buy the seed to plant this spring and the farmers bank foreclosed
Called my old friend schepman up to auction off the land
He said john its just my job and I hope you understand
Hey calling it your job ol hoss sure dont make it right
But if you want me to Ill say a prayer for your soul tonight
And grandmas on the front porch swing with a Bible in her hand
Sometimes I hear her singing take me to the promised land
When you take away a mans dignity he cant work his fields and cows
Therell be blood on the scarecrow blood on the plow
Blood on the scarecrow blood on the plow
Well theres ninety-seven crosses planted in the courthouse yard
Ninety-seven families who lost ninety-seven farms
I think about my grandpa and my neighbors and my name
And some nights I feel like dyin like that scarecrow in the rain
Chorus:
Rain on the scarecrow blood on the plow
This land fed a nation this land made me proud
And son Im just sorry theyre just memories for you now
Rain on the scarecrow blood on the plow
Rain on the scarecrow blood on the plow
Rain on the scarecrow blood on the plow
This land fed a nation this land made me so proud
And son Im just sorry theyre just memories for you now
Rain on the scarecrow blood on the plow
Rain on the scarecrow blood on the plow

song performed by by John Mellencamp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The White Herons And The Black Buffaloes

the harvest season is over
the women had gone to their homes
with their men and children
around the table of wood
dinner of fish and rice
the family eats as one

how close can a family be
in love and friendship

last night the rain poured heavily again
flooding the rice fields
this early morning before the sun rises
the black buffaloes graze and
then wade in the muddy waters
above their heads the white herons are flying low
gracefully hovering and landing
at their backs
some stand beside their thick skins
pecking for lice

how close can these creatures be
on friendship consistently
symbiotically designed
by nature's hands

sometimes i wish
we can be like all these
on a friendship without vested interest
on love platonic
in sickness and in health
......

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Come, Come Stay With Us, This Is Our Paradise

on the other side is the coastal beauty
of sky blue clear seas and coconut palms
at the opposite of the other side one takes
the road leading to the green mountains
the forest trees are nest of birds and
the branches are playthings for monkeys
below the mountains are villages
sleepy and peaceful and cooler with
fresh air and flowery gardens
a vast expanse of rice and corn fields
rivers still teeming with fish
the people still opting for peace

this is our paradise. Come, stay with us.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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What Mother Tells Me

she is always the first to wake up in the house
as she prays the rosary
and father follows to check the carabao on the side
of the hill and transfer it to a greener pasture

while we their children are still asleep
always wanting more sleep on those cold days
curled in our bed covered with thick blankets
and soft pillows on our heads and our ears all covered up
against the sound of the kitchen
our eyes hiding from the light of the morning sun

and mother pulls my blanket
and takes my arm and hugs me and tells me

wake up! wake up! the night is over
go to the river and take your bath

there is no one on your side now
the rest have gone to their respective tasks

wake up! wake up! my son
go and clean yourself and face the day because
the night is over

and these words still cling to my ears:
the night is over
and another one will be coming

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Farmers Daughter

Written by brian wilson.
I could come from miles away
Aint got (aint got, aint got)
No place to stay (place to stay, place to stay)
Glad to (glad to, glad to)
Help you plow your fields (help you plow, help you plow)
Farmers daughter (farmers daughter, farmers daughter)
Might be (might be, might be)
Just a couple of days (couple of days, couple of days)
Clean up (clean up, clean up)
Rest and on my way (on my way, on my way)
Thank you (thank you, thank you)
And Im must obliged (much obliged, much obliged)
Farmers daughter (farmers daughter, farmers daughter)
Mmmm-mmm-mmm-mmm-mmmmm
Mmmm-mmm-mmm-mmm-mmmmm
So long (so long, so long)
Better leave your land (leave your land, leave your land)
Many thanks (many thanks, many thanks)
It was mighty grand (mighty grand, mighty grand)
I do (hope to, hope to)
Hope to see you again (see you again see you again)
Farmers daughter (farmers daughter, farmers daughter)
Oh oh
Farmers daughter (farmers daughter, farmers daughter)
Oh oh
Farmers daughter (farmers daughter, farmers daughter)

song performed by by Fleetwood Mac
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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November Rain

November rain washed away my guilt
November rain washed away my pain
November rain - so tired I felt
November rain was not just any rain

Long I longed with deep torment
For so long my body waited
November rain, , , , Oh, sweet friend
November rain- slowly I faded.

November rain- I cried within
Steady and slowly, it kept on pouring
November rain, watered my skin
And deep inside, I heard my roaring.

November rain, it refused to quit
November rain kept on pouring
And alone outside, in the streets I wept-
dripping... dripping and falling.

poem by Amy Phillip
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A composition in a ricefield

The white herons
Are commas
The carabaos are periods

An eagle flying over my head
Is the head note

The trees are the margins
And the fences

The nipa huts
Are footnotes

The rice field is one big
Pad of paper

And so this is the composition
Of a ricefield

Commas on top of periods
Two head notes will do
Four footnotes
Can make a story of a village

My hand is always the ampersand
And I think
Like there are no carabaos on this pad of paper.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Rain On Me O' Rain Rain Rain

o' rain rain rain
come rain on me o' rain
rain on every plant that grow o' dear rain
rain on every resource o' dear rain
rain to green the plants
the plants that of nature's decor
rain on us and never let go
quench my thirst; to get so
rain on me o' rain rain rain

rain for happiness and leisure
rain for our children to play
rain on the soil for us this day
so, we plant more food to feed us this way
go to the fields and gardens; same way
rain o' beautiful rain
rain rain rain

**extract from 'patterns of life' november 2011 ebook
ntema's unique poetry (nup)

poem by Onalethuso Petruss Ntema
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Farmers Daughter

I could come from miles away
Aint got (aint got, aint got)
No place to stay (place to stay, place to stay)
Glad to (glad to, glad to)
Help you plow your fields (help you plow, help you plow)
Farmers daughter (farmers daughter, farmers daughter)
Might be (might be, might be)
Just a couple of days (couple of days, couple of days)
Clean up (clean up, clean up)
Rest and on my way (on my way, on my way)
Thank you (thank you, thank you)
And Im must obliged (much obliged, much obliged)
Farmers daughter (farmers daughter, farmers daughter)
Mmmm-mmm-mmm-mmm-mmmmm
Mmmm-mmm-mmm-mmm-mmmmm
So long (so long, so long)
Better leave your land (leave your land, leave your land)
Many thanks (many thanks, many thanks)
It was mighty grand (mighty grand, mighty grand)
I do (hope to, hope to)
Hope to see you again (see you again see you again)
Farmers daughter (farmers daughter, farmers daughter)
Oh oh
Farmers daughter (farmers daughter, farmers daughter)
Oh oh
Farmers daughter (farmers daughter, farmers daughter)

song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Covered In Rain

These days, with the world getting colder,
She spends more time sleeping over
Than I planned.
Tonight were gonna order in,
Drinking wine and watch some cnn.
Its dark I know but then again
Its the brightest thing I got
When Im covered in rain
When Im covered in rain, rain, rain, rain
No, I am covered in rain, rain
Firewoods to fire places
Summer snow and fallen places
Now were people watching other people, people watching you and i
Standing by the missing signs at the cvs by the checkout line
Put your tiny hands in mine
Cause your the brightest thing I got
When youre covered in rain
Cause Im covered in rain
Cause Im covered in rain
No Im covered in rain
And its alright
If you dont want to go on
And its alright
If you dont want to be alone
And its alright
If you dont want to go home
Come december lydia left
Mentioned something about it being for the best
And I cant say I disagree
Now Im standing facing west
Tracing my fingers round a silhouette
I havent gotten used to yet
But its the brightest thing I got
And Im covered in rain
Cus Im covered in rain
Cus Im covered in rain
You and me and everyone, covered in rain

song performed by by John Mayer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rain

Today I watched the falling rain
Rice paddies drinking droplets sweet
Heaven watering farmers' grains
As stalks shoot up their growth to meet.

The scenery shown in verdant wetness
Ushering the harvest of a season
Bountiful proof of Nature's goodness
A rich store of life's provision.

I love the feel and sight of rain
Its cool refreshing sound of falling
I like to think I am the grain
Each dropp of rain shall keep me feeding.

poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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