Reflection 0.3
when loneliness is overwhelming
miracles happen
tables speak to chairs and
chairs are amazed to their
new actions
the roof cannot be stopped
telling something to the floor
and the garden too and the fence
and the stair and all of them here
entangled in a relationship of such closeness
that you begin to stop thinking about how to end
and lose yourself
presences are born and they begin to speak
and it is you who has become one inanimate human figure
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
Walking Tables
How do tables walk as one?
And why do chairs seem to run?
How my rest is desired, and how
Do I kick in the air for relaxation?
My chimney is found with the soot
Of a black utterance, as seemly as light;
The light travels up and down the world,
With smoke, crime is committed, like walking
Chairs and turning tables, this world is one.
With this house may I live alone,
Where wolves like criminals detest you.
Anyone walked a long distance, anyway,
Justice must be allowed, and searched
By the home and heaven.
How do tables and chairs move?
poem by Naveed Akram
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Speak A Bit Of That Moment
Speak a bit of that moment,
A moment that contains centuries,
A moment that halts time,
A moment when someone sees
A route leading beyond the cosmos.
Speak a bit of that moment
When water and clay mingle,
And in a moment of union,
Sprouts a bud of flower.
Speak a bit of that moment,
When eyes become a heart,
When heart becomes eyes,
A star of dream, a rain-bow
Dither on the lashes.
Speak a bit of that moment,
When the Sun places its fire
On the bank of a lake,
And water becomes gold,
Miracles begin to happen.
Speak a bit of that moment,
When Love begins to blather metaphysics
When chest becomes hollow,
And heart dwells in each particle.
Speak a bit of that moment,
When sunbeams begin to fade,
The sights become vague,
The Sun dives down into puddle,
And the forms begins to muddle,
The earth beckons,
The desire of long sleep places her fingers
On the lids of eyes,
Speak a bit of that moment,
Speak a bit of that moment.
Written By Qayyum Tahir
Translated By Muhammad Shanazar
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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When Poems Begin To Speak/Only Of Themselves
WHEN POEMS BEGIN TO SPEAK / ONLY OF THEMSELVES
When poems begin to speak
Only of themselves
They die of their loneliness
Of loving nothing else.
To be loved
We need to love
What is other than our selves.
A poem as a person
Thrives
By embracing
Someone else.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Speak With Kindness (Or Do Not Speak At All)
speak with kindness,
or do not speak at all.
speak not of judgement,
you are not the judge.
speak not of salvation,
let your living be your scriptures.
speak not of scriptures,
let your actions be your holy book.
speak not as apostle or teacher,
speak as a human being.
speak not of god,
then god will speak through you!
speak not as a man,
for you are woman too.
speak not with hateful malice,
for love does not work that way.
speak not as a prophet or seer,
speak as compassion made flesh.
speak not of morality,
speak of connection.
speak not of authority,
the tree and the leaf have just as much.
speak not of holiness,
for all that lives be holy.
speak with kindness...
or do not speak at all!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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A Pledge Of The Heart....
i am sworn to the
flocks of
silence
only my hands
speak for me
i bleed
but my mouth is cursed
when i begin to speak
the world trembles
the storms begin
to rage like a mad dog
the rain pours heavily
on the roof
and the paths
camouflage as thick grass
there is only one way
back
through the silent flocks of
the heart
nature has done
what is best
to keep the order
sun and moon must not meet
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Broken Silence
My silence is now broken.
I can speak the words.
I can Just begin to speak the words.
But painfull it still is.
At least I can.
Now begin to speak.
I was silent for so long.
never could brake the barrier.
To allow me to speak.
Now my silence is broken.
I can speak about it very little.
But at least the
Door is open.
The journey
I can take.
But can I face it?
Soon I shall no.
poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
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Possessions
They spent my life plotting against me.
With nothing to do but cultivate themselves,
but to be there, aligning their shadows,
they were planning to undo me,
wanting to own me completely.
They have marched through the rooms,
their presences litter the surfaces
close at my elbow calling attention.
When I sleep they begin with their meetings,
when I leave home they hold a convention.
The minutes, the notes, the chairman
calls order, the lamps signal aye. When I die
they'll start in on another,
easy at first, learning his ways.
Now they're gone, taken from me, good luck.
If I kept them I'd never be free. I'd die
and have to begin picking everything up,
all the waste paper, baby teeth, beards,
I'd have to go back for the fingernails.
So I'm shut of them, all the gossip and malice,
the tables, the chairs with their jokes on me.
All the prying. the scandals. The telephone
stored it all up. the books lied to me.
That's why I came here, bringing nothing.
There was nothing to do but leave things.
I saved only a few: smells of tobacco
and blankets, a dream of a waterfall,
a length of ribbon, my name, my number,
the holes in my suitcase.
Dying of non-expression
discuss me flat
carpets and a doormat
fill me fridge
buy me chairs
fix all repairs
love me so much
take me to lunch
let me get it straight
i am not great
not grateful at all
regardless of chairs
repairs and all the cares
when my hosts are gone
i just want to be alone
guess i'm my best
household guest
deep in the night
turning on the light
and finally begin
to write
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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My Happy Heart
i
there are table
specially made for our kind
and some chairs too
they are made for
solo settings
ii
i sit on one of those
chairs
most often
and i eat on such
tables
more than what is
necessary
iii
sometimes people
stare at me
i eat alone, i sip my own cup of tea
alone
and it does not
really bother me
i am familiar with such
feeling
i am at home
and my heart is still a happy
place
for my dwelling
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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To Let You Know
it is raining tonight
there is light inside my room
i sit and watch the darkness outside
there is no moon
there are no stars
there are shadows of trees borrowing light from street lamps
they keep on moving
there are winds coming from the sea
they are blowing a while ago
they just subsided
and then i close the glass windows
i sit and watch and listen like i still want to learn
despite my 48 years here
i still do not know what in essence
is loneliness
how to cope with its grip how to set my self free
the chairs and tables are dusty
outside there is this contrast of coldness and darkness
i read some poems and i begin to write my own
nothing new not that old either
the same feelings the same flow of thoughts like a chain of steel
a rope, a big rope, a long rope
i bind myself again and i look at my side
just near me
there is this brown dog
native and too loyal like your own dog
or any dog for that matter
it is sleeping peacefully as though the world is safe
there is this rain
it does not seem to stop
to let you know, there are also tears.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Romance In The Plain...
the plateau
exists too in a relationship
since it is plain
we begin to play our
usual games
not the hide and seek
but
the trip to Jerusalem
under the sun
we haggle for chairs
like all forms of reality
others must
stand and
be left out
when the sun goes out
we play the serious game we know
so intimate
and so private
that romantic night that we
never forget
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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You Begin Again
Sometimes it's hard to believe
How simple life can be
Just when you think
You'll never reach the end
You're finally round the bend and see
There's no need to cry anymore
Life's better than before
Yesterday fades away into the past
The pain you thought would last
Is gone
[Chorus:]
And you begin again
Sometimes you lose, sometimes you win
But you begin again
Even though you're heart is breaking
In time, the sun will shine
And you'll begin again
You'll begin again
Life's bittersweet mystery
Never tells what will be
You can create your own reality
And make your dreams come true
It's really up to you
If you begin again
Sometimes you lose, sometimes you win
But you begin again
Even though your heart is breaking
In time, the sun will shine
And you'll begin again
You'll begin again
When you begin again
[Chorus]
song performed by by Barry Manilow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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That Element Of Trust...
our foundation is respect
in the house, it is the floor
we all sleep on it, out tables and chairs
are placed on it,
in fact, what we eat, to include the appetizers
and desserts is all based on
that menu of respect
it's when i told you that we may grow
together in this
but you can always take a different
direction perhaps another
point of view another perspective
to see the same object that i hold
and cherish
we go smoothly on this
we appreciated different flowers
on the same glass vase
assuming much that
the fragility may break
and we can still collect the pieces
in one wedding
the mother speaks about trust
as she gives away her
daughter for the man of the hour
and when it was my turn to speak
i speak the same about
respect and she added trust
which honestly i cannot even
mention
because all the while
a life lived in mistrust
from my point of view
always learns
how to survive
find a way when things go wrong
when betrayal as a
common instinct like a tiger
eats the pawn
i have told you
i always doubt and recalling Descartes
i think, therefore, i still exist
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Morning Fog
The light
Begin to bleed,
Begin to breathe,
Begin to speak.
Dyou know what?
I love you better now.
I am falling
Like a stone,
Like a storm,
Being born again
Into the sweet morning fog.
Dyou know what?
I love you better now.
Im falling,
And Id love to hold you know.
Ill kiss the ground.
Ill tell my mother,
Ill tell my father,
Ill tell my loved one,
Ill tell my brothers
How much I love them.
song performed by by Kate Bush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Beach Chairs
Sitting on the beach chairs
watching the setting sun
holding hands and reminiscing
how it all begun
Sitting on the beach chairs
watching the ships out on the sea
holding hands and smiling
together we're meant to be
Sitting on the beach chairs
watching people walking past
holding hands and knowing
that our love will always last
Sitting on the beach chairs
watching the waves along the shore
holding hands we realize
our love is stronger than before
Sitting on the beach chairs
watching the changing tide
holding hands with happiness
to be by each others side
Sitting on the beach chairs
watching the sunrise
holding hands with tears of joy
there are no more good-byes
poem by Joyce Ebrecht
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Em 3
about you
what shall i say about you?
ah, i prefer my
silence
this is my cure about
you
yes, my silence
it shall speak about
you my silence
my very own silence
to speak about your
long silence
now we are at peace
in our silence
both shall speak about
us yes our silence
our marital silence in
the silence of our bed
the root of all our
troubles freud say is in
the silence of our beds
two beds now
four meters apart
speaking in silence
the silence of the house
and the chairs
and the staircases
and the carpets and
the ticks and the
empty glasses or those
cold coffee and
frozen butter.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A New Begin
When things is going horrible and
The way you think expect to happen
Then you need to start
A new begin
Give yourself another chance
Take one step at time
I used to be person where
I'm scared for changes,
Take a crazy risk,
A shy girl and can't stand up for herself
That's not me anymore
I have grown up and matured
I'm different Christina
I don't regret things anymore
I don't think about past and want
To reach for the goal
It brand new slate to start over and
A new begin
For you and me
I think you can do it again
Don't spend your time thinking or say what if
You are wasting your time
Just stand back up
I believe you
Don't say you are falling in
Black hole and you are trap forever
By someone you can't stop loving so much
The world is not over for you
A new begin
We should try
Don't wait too long
Take your chances
A new begin
poem by Christina Phan
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Breakdown
When the whirlwind of noise surrounds and get intense,
And when words cant hide their anger or intent.
I feel it in my bones and in my head, cant make sense of what is said.
Ready for the take down, headed for a breakdown.
Fear has me backed against these walls that I follow and pace.
Time moves in and out of phase of everything that I face.
I feel it in my bones they rattle and shake, cant find a trace of what it takes to stop this take down.
Cant stop this breakdown!
Welcome to my scene. a place thats in-between where squares fit the round.
Some affectionately call it ... my breakdown....
When I feel the pressure mounting and my hands begin to clutch, I reach my limit of pain and Ive had enough.
It feels good to pound on tables and chairs and feel the frenzy start to wear.
Breakdown this take down, gotta stop this breakdown.
Welcome to my scene. a place thats in-between where squares fit the round.
Itll never be, never be more than this. never.
song performed by by Queensryche
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Orient Express
One looks from the train
Almost as one looked as a child. In the sunlight
What I see still seems to me plain,
I am safe; but at evening
As the lands darken, a questioning
Precariousness comes over everything.
Once after a day of rain
I lay longing to be cold; after a while
I was cold again, and hunched shivering
Under the quilt's many colors, gray
With the dull ending of the winter day,
Outside me there were a few shapes
Of chairs and tables, things from a primer;
Outside the window
There were the chairs and tables of the world ...
I saw that the world
That had seemed to me the plain
Gray mask of all that was strange
Behind it -- of all that was -- was all.
But it is beyond belief.
One thinks, "Behind everything
An unforced joy, an unwilling
Sadness (a willing sadness, a forced joy)
Moves changelessly"; one looks from the train
And there is something, the same thing
Behind everything: all these little villages,
A passing woman, a field of grain,
The man who says good-bye to his wife --
A path through a wood all full of lives, and the train
Passing, after all unchangeable
And not now ever to stop, like a heart --
It is like any other work of art,
It is and never can be changed.
Behind everything there is always
The unknown unwanted life.
poem by Randall Jarrell
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Speak... Or Else Be Silent!
if you must speak,
speak not of distance or seperation!
speak without claiming identity,
without shouting, 'self'!
speak without grasping,
clawing, and holding.
keep your judgements to yourself!
i dont need to know the color of your god,
or what war you say he was born during.
i am more refugee than disciple,
i will not follow!
speak not of streets of gold
where angels play harps!
let us speak of these streets...
hard and raw, struggling and fighting,
dimly lit, stinking of urine.
littered with the trash of human lives.
speak of the exploding flash we call moment,
and the kingdom of heaven
that sweats and bleeds!
speak of the cries of the children!
speak of hunger and poverty,
injustices, and the cry for equality!
speak of the god that inhabits
the bodies of the lost and oppressed,
their faces etched by human cruelty...
scarred by apathy and indifference.
speak the truth!
bark like a dog,
meow like a cat,
chirp like a sparrow,
beat rhythm with your wings!
speak living words....
or else be silent!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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