Remembering The Simpler Days Of Your Life
it was when your excitement
was only the strong wind
for the ripe mango to fall for
you to pick
it was when your sadness
was only about a failing grade
on a math quiz
it was when your happiness
was the carabao ride
from your nipa hut to
the public school
it was when your sweetness
was tasted by your mama
like an icing from a cake
it was when your escape
was the plunge in the river
with your naked friends
it was when your conversations
are about fairies and princesses
and frogs and lost shoes
it was when the coolness was
the thick grasses spreading
on the plains
it was when joy was the playing
and bathing under the rain
on the month of November
now these changes have made
things more complicated
people hard to deal with and
a self that is deeper, darker
and difficult to really understand.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Gloom And Doom
it was when your excitement was only the strong wind from the forest
the ripe mangoes fall for
you to pick them up
you run for excitement, the thrill of ripe fruits falling to your hands
it was when your sadness was only about a failing grade
on a math quiz
it was when your happiness was the carabao ride
from your nipa hut to the public school
it was when your sweet face was kissed by your mama
your hair caressed by a friend
simple memories
it was when your escape was the plunge in the river
with your naked friends
it was when your conversations are about fairies and princesses
and frogs and lost shoes
it was when the coolness was the thick grasses spreading
on the plains
it was when joy was the playing and bathing under the rain
on the month of November
now these changes have made things more complicated
people are hard to deal with and
a self that is deeper, darker
and difficult to really understand
now there are more severances, dreams that do not come true
failures keep coming, alienation of the self, the soul from the body
reverses, and uncertainties, longer nights,
without the stars,
a moon covered by thick clouds,
the heavy rain promising another big flood
gloomy crystal balls, smokes of fire, and
misfortunes of the mind
that earthquake is not the last.
when will this bad karma ever end?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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To A Woman That I Think I Know
tonight
i shall climb the old mango tree
that papa planted
when i was still too young
to understand
the fading of the moon
i shall cling to one of its strong branches
but due to my weight
it shall crack and given in and fall
i shall fall with it
straight to the mud hole
where papa's carabao
is wallowing
then i shall ride upon its back
hold its tail
and it shall run towards
a creek
where i shall plunge
and clean myself and
then rise
from its waters
and then i shall meet you again
and you shall tell me
how interesting things
have been
i shall ask from you
which has been so interesting?
is it me? or my falling?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Getting Through
School, school, the golden rule.
It can be tough, it can be cruel.
Sometimes I like it,
Sometimes I hate it.
Playing with friends is great fun,
but it's a bummer when there's homework to be done.
Every once in a while I fall asleep,
but then there are consequences I must reap.
So I must stay awake and focus hard,
or from school I will be barred.
If I pass this grade that I am in,
then next year, another grade I will begin.
poem by Cheryl Wilson
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Home Sweet Home
sunday on a home sweet home
from the city
to this little nipa hut
on top of a hill
that father built
where the guava trees are filled
with ripe fruits
where i climb and gather and taste
the sweetness of its pink flesh
where the carabaos rest
in the coolness of mudholes
where i take my ride on them
in the river nearby
on crystal clear waters
where some fish swim on shallow waters
inviting me to fish and catch them
for lunch of pearl white glutenous rice
and with banana leaves as plates
and some wild chicken's barbecued breast
and with my bare hands and
some childhood friends
we shall take this simple feast
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Lovely, Lovely, Lovely Memories
By an old river beside a bamboo grove
She bathes herself
Only the bamboo leaves hinder
Your view of her long black hair
As she splashes naked in the
Clear River.
Lovely 2
There is a nipa hut on the side of a hill
You meet her when it is dark
She lights your cigar
As you get near her
You decided to smoke later
Lovely 3
You are rocking yourself on a rattan hammock
On a late afternoon when the rest go home
It is Saturday
She stays
You watch her come near you giving you something
She says it is the key to her room and she is all alone tonight.
Lovely 4
The cogon grasses have grown tall & thick on the hillside
Both of you hide in there
Nobody sees you
The tall cogon grasses dance wildly to the slow wind
Lovely 5
Four years in the university studying chemistry
You return home finally
You embrace your old mother meeting you by the door
Outside you see the guava tree filled with its ripe yellow fruit odor
So heavily laden like a big Christmas tree
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Where Do The Fairies Go?
I was eating a fairy cake the other morn, when I thought I wonder if it's true that for every baby born, a fairy god mother is sworn.
Well now I have grown up, can I still speak to the fairies or am I just away with?
I seem to think I know they are there, but where have they gone?
I don't remember ever seeing one, what do they look like, are they pixies, elves or just plain sprite?
I have heard is possible to see, but that is only by those who believe, or is it just for those inclined spiritually?
Well my fairy cake tasted just nice. Maybe the cake is blessed by fairies, hence their name, or maybe fairies are just another bed-time story again?
poem by Steven Robinson
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Defending my Insanity
I’ve had conversations with the rain
Both night and day we talk
It told me how things will be
When I’m sitting naked in the rain
Nothing feels the same
The people that see me whisper
“he must be insane just sitting there
naked in the rain”
But what does anybody else know?
I ask my weather friend
I ask the rain advice
Some direction for this life
And I listen…
It answers without reply
So get dressed and go inside
I’ve had conversations with the rain
It chooses not to speak to me
But I’ll talk with it again
poem by Nicolas 'Kokonutz' Kokonas
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the Filipino Poem 1
As written by Bimboy a grade two pupil in
Olingan elementary school section sampaguita:
The sun comes to my barrio this morning
It peeps between two hills and on the side
Is our nipa hut and on the ricefield my father
Pasturing the carabao while mother cooks the
Mudfish in the kitchen while my sister looks
Out the window and waives at me who is
Holding this pen writing this poem on paper.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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an unhappy childhood of this man who names himself 'I'.....
i've seen this picture of you
on that far corner of the world
land of snow and you are inside that very thick
winter clothes
there is that smile in your face
and i am taking a closer look
it is sour.
i know what sour is. I've been one for forty years
wearing that
sour smile, and i have many reasons why a smile must be sour
for forty years
the reasons are sour
very sour
beyond those tastes of a hundred green lemons
or a green mango with some disturbing gums on its mouth
i burned all my pictures in college
except those when i was yet a boy beside my mama and our white dog
i was in grade one and i did not like school and mama forced me into it
i was selling chocolates and i ate them all and mama was mad at me and beat me with a stick
papa did not like me reading books as he does not know how to read
i climb trees and hide on the leaves and read stories
in our dialect and draw some pictures of women without their dresses on
you see i still have this picture of myself riding a carabao and hauling some wood and coconut palms
i take a close look of my own smile, It is very sour
and it tastes like yours, but perhaps mine is the worst
but i am happy now, i know how to suppress sour smiles, i know how to manage and project myself
i smile like a cow now, and laugh like a horse
because all of them are dead.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Fantasy: Seven Baby Dragonlets, Cake-and-Icing
Woke up this morning in pizza-pain, combating
it by reading how the dragon Alberic came to
stay with kids who were sad when he left, he
came back with seven baby dragonlets, leaving
one behind to take his place, thus the friendship
chain would go on - the pizza forgotten, I got up
with a feeling of bright expectation – all thanks
to Alberic – I took him along to the shops
staring in delight at chocolate cake with thick
chocolate icing, you said no, pizza’s enough, I said
if I had only three months to live, I’d go on a cake-
with-icing diet, never touching broccoli and spinach
again, I’d eat all the cake and icing I could find,
chocolate, vanilla, mocca, granadilla, with the
icing spread as thick as can be- that’s when
Alberic left me, he couldn’t stand the idea
of so many scrumptious cakes without tasting
some himself, off he went, hunting for cake;
I sought comfort in the tabloids, read with
dismay Britney had a horrible youth, Cat Woman
had been operated upon once too much - deeply
affected, I went to Alberic in a land of magic
where flying dragons love their dragonlets –
then send them forth to befriend
lonely humans…
poem by Margaret Alice
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The little Kid
The little kid
Unaware of the social rules
Does whatever he likes
For him nothing is a rise and nothing is a fall
He does all
- The little kid -
Has an open mind
Lives with the rules of his own kind
Whenever he needs help
Does not ask but demand
If request does not work then with command
- The little kid -
Eating and sleeping are his foes
Mama and Papa are the friends of his foes
Papa diverts his mind
Mama makes him feed
Eating or sleeping is over
He forgives the mother and the father
- The little kid -
He gets up in the morning
Says to all 'good morning'
Looks at the toys that Mama cares and he plays
Looks at the shelves that Mama arranges
Remembers they were spread all over the floor last night
Brings back to the same orientation without wasting a minute
- The little Kid -
Its time for his play school
Mama struggles to get him ready
School dresses are bad
Forced dress up is sad
Somehow puts on the school shoes
Gets ready and goes
- The little Kid -
Comes back from school
Holds his toy gun and doll
Mama wants him to eat
Mama's success comes after a fight
- The little Kid -
Little away the little kid
All are concerned
All are bored
Struggle and fight gives happiness
Away the kid proves
- Thats the power of The little Kid -
poem by Tapan Brahma
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Who Let In The Rain
Things like this
can always take a little time
I always thought
we'd be together down the line
we start to fight
and can't get over what was said
'cause you see black and white
and I see red
And I wonder who let in the rain
you know without you
I'm not the same
when love gets strong
people get weak
sometimes they lose control
and wind up in too deep
they fall like rain
who let in the rain
I make the bed and cover
where you used to sleep
I'm smoothing over promises
made in these sheets
I envy lovers passing by
out on the street
'cause what they have
I couldn't keep
And I wonder who let in the rain
you know without you
I'm not the same
when love gets strong
people get weak
sometimes they lose control
and wind up in too deep
they fall like rain
who let in the rain.
song performed by by Cyndi Lauper from Hat Full Of Stars
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sadness
Why you that they call you sdaness
Why you have been my destiny forever
Why you are chasing me like my shadow all these years
What can I do to escape free even one moment
To taste the happiness that never had found my way
To smile
To laugh
To run under the summer rain
To be in love with the happiness
To laugh till my eyes tear
For once from the happiness
To chase away all those years
That made me cry and never knew the smile
Tell me why you are so unfair
How some people's destiny could be to have a perfect life?
They never know anything about the bad destiny
They never tasted the horror of poorness
They know nothing about the loneliness
They never ever had felt on their own skins how it hurts
Sure they never felt how it hurts when you fall
All those people around you at once disappear
And how hard is to be in need of even to a smile to survive your life...!
poem by Sossi Khachadourian
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A Digital Photo Of The Ricefields
ripe ricefields early one morning
as i take my walk
it is a wide rectangular field
and on its tip on the right side
from this gravelled road
is an island of banana shrubs
bamboo grasses
and mahogany trees
and there is an old well there
that survives the past droughts
for scores of years
a little focusing will show
that there are bathers
there and one of them
is lovely.
Zoom in.
Never mind, she is too shy
and she is just for me.
Her eyes are soft
not like the almonds
her skin is smooth
like a ripe mango.
Zoom in.
She is bathing now.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Poem After A Walk This Afternoon
dust on my feet on my rubber shoes
stamp a mound of mud drying itself
the afternoon sun so hot
this little boy follows me with his gaze
did i appear so big to his attention
or the world is too small for him to play ball?
we look amazed to the same birds
too playing in the skies chasing the ones
not having the same feathers
the sun sets spreading orange colors
waning and now sprinkles some gray hues
the boys playing basketball sweat like they
were bathing on the rain, their bodies gleaming
like some barbecue on spiced oil
time to go home, it is dark, i have no reason to stay
the little boy follows me towards the road
where the flourescent light is turned on by the guards
then i look back, the boy was gone
the whole block is lost eaten by this night
and on the island of light on this road
i stand, waiting for my ride back home
then i look back again, i smile a while
that little boy was me, i got lost somehow
i touch my head, i am setting a new perspective
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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New Perspective
dust on my feet on my rubber shoes
stamp a mound of mud drying itself
the afternoon sun so hot
this little boy follows me with his gaze
did I appear so big to his attention
or the world is too small for him to play ball?
we look amazed to the same birds
too playing in the skies chasing the ones
not having the same feathers
the sun sets spreading orange colors
waning and now sprinkles some gray hues
the boys playing basketball sweat like they
were bathing on the rain, their bodies gleaming
like some barbecue on spiced oil
time to go home, it is dark, I have no reason to stay
the little boy follows me towards the road
where the fluorescent light is turned on by the guards
then I look back, the boy was gone
the whole block is lost eaten by this night
and on the island of light on this road
I stand, waiting for my ride back home
then I look back again, I smile a while
that little boy was me, I got lost somehow
I touch my head, I am setting a new perspective
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Turning 15
My life hasn't changed, but only teenager things, friends, guys, romance, lust, looks, school, doing those bad stuff, school is easy, friends complicated to understand drama, guys like me for all the wrong reasons, except one show far, lust and romance are two different things, but only get one, my looks make me look like a woman, fully developed, now doing those bad things, i try not to do it, but being reckless is who i am, wanting excitement, show me a good time, drink my pain away, having sex isn't safe anymore, drugs to hard to quiet when your life is all screwed up, turning 15 isn't like the old days, men i look for maturity, not how big you are, or how good you can pleasure me, trying new things a little scary, sneaking out to see the stars that brighten up the sky, sipping on that can of beer, crying about what you wish you could of changed sooner, get in the backseat of your car, undress to let the breeze touch my bare skin, what happened to that innocent girl i use to be, now i'm some stranger.
poem by Julietta Isla
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In School
in school,
when i saw you
i intuited i have found
my lost world in you
i wish i could act
to be appreciated
by you in school.
in school,
it would be too sad
to narrate the ordeal
i have been through
i wonder if its best
i had met you
in the school.
in school,
though i had not said it
there has been so many ways
that i have shown it
my actions had done
whatever i wanted to say
at school.
in school,
i never thought
being in love
could take me to madness
well, it is better than
leaving me in sadness
in the school.
in school,
when i approached you
i knew i was silly
it was because
suddenly,
i forgot who i was
in school
in school,
why do you sneer
when i am near
it really breaks me
just tell me what to do
to get a room from you
in and out of school.
in school,
sometimes though it is hard
i guess i must let go
some things i wish to have
though good things also
could be found elsewhere
as it has been in school.
poem by Elorm Dogbo
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Double Edged Pleasures
naked children
bathing under the rain
girls stamping their
feet on the water
scattered pleasures
in the rising waters of the river
the boys are at it again
cliff jumping
there are no stones
the rain keeps on pouring
the bamboo raft floats
seeking a strap for home
naked boys and girls
they bathe in the river
long ago there was no malice at all
pure pleasure of angels
the rain keeps pouring
the waters still rising
there is a flood of happiness
at what price tonight?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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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