Second Sunday...
february is fickle
one gets inside a room, closes the door,
and spreads the mat and
turns off the light, but february does not
sleep, it boasts of love
till dawn,
there is an exit door at the left side
of the room
covered by a waterfall and
the sound of
birds mating, you know, calls, like that,
somehow, february is fun,
funny, makes the hearts of lonely people beat again,
dances under the moon,
begins to love again the rain at midnight
plucking rusty guitar strings
and kissing moonbeams
passionate as the
night blanketing the tall trees
erect to the
cold.
i like february, but i have none
for now.
the second sunday may prove
myself wrong,
she is coming, literally.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
February Has Returned To Normal
After a week of summer sun
February returned to normal.
Grey skies to the horizon
and a light falling rain.
It is the February
that we all know so well,
and the sunshine
while it lasted
was an unexpected bonus to us all.
15 February 2008
poem by David Harris
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This Fabruary
This February took me to the frosts,
Experienced me by heavy snowstorms,
Wanted to know how much my love costs.
But…I was laughing boldly.
Happiness can't live lonely.
I warmed myself by this verity.
This February tried to cool my heart,
It wanted us to live forever apart.
But…it forgot: March will be a start.
It tried to ice-bound my feelings,
To reveal my longings and likings
Drawing its beautiful paintings.
It tried to show me the ring,
It cried: Forget the spring!
I am the only one! Your king!
It showed me the pictures of the past,
It wanted to say: Love do not last!
All events finish so fast!
I thought: Dear February, you are strange!
The spring will take its revenge!
The whole world will be changed!
You can frighten me, you cold month!
But I will always dance, having a chance!
In Spain under the rain and even in France.
At last this February took Mersey on me.
Tomorrow it promised to let me free.
It was also tired showing minus degree.
©Larisa Rzhepishevska (Odessa, Ukraine)
The 14th of February,2012
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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Hooray February!
I love February
because it’s a brewery
of chilly winter
and sunny warmth.
I love February
because it isn’t a cocky first;
but only a modest next
like how I always prefer
taking a second row chair.
Likewise my car, hello,
is not a Uno, but an Alto!
I love February
because it’s the baby
of the promising January.
And with that promise
February bears March
with all its vernal vibrancy.
I love water, aqua:
It’s the spring of life.
I love February
because I am an Aquarian.
I love February
because the holy water eponymous
purifies me and makes me vigorous
a la
Februa
the great Roman festival.
I love February
because it’s doughty,
has the will to survive:
From a long monthless limbo
to the twelfth place
then to the second
in the calendar -
it was a saga of freedom fight
in the hoary history of time.
I love February
because it’s a month of lovely violets
of diverse hues and scents galore
and
of amethysts that keep you sober.
I love February
because it’s the one month
that determines the leap
or otherwise of a year
shortie it is though.
They malign February as ‘hollow’ and ominous.
Don’t fib, I reply, it is ‘full’ and luminous:
I work for twenty eight
and get paid for thirty one.
Then isn’t it ‘full’?
No triskaidekaphobe,
I love the thirteenth
for it symbolises
the eternal crusade
against superstition
and discrimination.
God loves it too
for He has made the date
a rendezvous
of countless events
no less happy than any other.
I love Feb thirteenth
because I came into this world
on that unique date.
For me it’s always the first.
In their nineties and seventies
still going strong
on me shower my parents
a golden pot of blessings full.
Long live Februarians!
Long live humanitarians!
[Feb 11,2009: : Hyderabad - 500 056]
poem by AtreyaSarma Uppaluri
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Red Roses
Red roses for a lady blue
just to show her
that your love is true,
that you will never wander
with the setting of the sun
and that she will be at your side
for a long, long time to come.
Red roses are a symbol
of love eternally
when you give them to someone blue.
It spells out love for eternity
and the month of February,
when winter begins recede
comes a day of flowers, Valentines Day.
Special cards with hearts
printed all over them,
red roses for love true
just to stop the lady
feeling sad and blue.
Red roses to say a simple thing,
darling I love you.
1 February 2008
poem by David Harris
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Piazza Liberta
[Piazza Liberta]
Trieste. Of my February foggy white dense
a student, to expect this term to finish
You kept me in your spiritual shrine's sense
first year in the University, time to diminish.
I am waiting! Even if I knew you 'll never be
of my exclusion in this fog's heart wedges
My margin of this February will write, maybe
of your beloved one, the waves of souls edges.
(I made an acquaintance with sailors
of a cargo-boat, they tell me stories
about terrible typhoons, wild sharks
of Indian Ocean, routes upon maps.)
In three months I learned the language well
And every night, February's visitor you were
Ideally solitaire of my life's kind dream
keeping me company, a light that will never beam.
February, fog, people walk in Piazza Liberta
a trattoria, company of students, of you I think
I am writing this letter; you, of my words trace,
inside the fog, are calling me, with an embrace.
-
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Another February
It's a non month
that takes me from winter
to early spring.
It sneaks in,
like a mousey spinster,
barren and lonely,
mostly ignored
and then hurries
back to whence it came.
It is the worst month,
dark and dismal,
neither here nor there,
never thought about,
except for its rain.
February, poor February,
its only redemption
is it is swift
and goes quickly on its way.
poem by Ruth Walters
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Valentine Comp Poem 2
The heart shaped card with pretty words
Be my Valentine, my dear
Is there because the poor old man
Knows if the old lady doesn’t get one
She’ll box his blinkin’ ears
9 February 1992
Author’s Note:
This little poem was read out on radio between 10 February and 13 February and won a box of heart shaped chocolates for my lady fair.
poem by David Harris
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Rain Water
Morning of 21st, I am 34.
The rain outside my window drizzles a rhythm of February dawn.
Rain water flows from the early morning sane—
Rain water washes the yesterday’s pain.
Rain water and I have loved you dear—
Rain water and you come close to me near.
Rain water taps my fingertips, and I love you more than yearning—
Rain water runs deeper into our skins of longing.
Morning of 21st, I am happier.
The rain won’t stop until I melt as a better person.
(written on February 21,2008 Marikina City, Philippines)
poem by Chester Maynes
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A Sunny Day In February
I stood by my car and looked down
at the still waters of the small lake below.
Several anglers with their rods cast
sat on small chairs along the lake bank.
Sheep grazed in a field
with not a care in the world,
on a sunny day in February.
The blue sky seemed
to stretch forever everywhere.
Peace drifted across everything
that was there
on this sunny day in February
at the farm I go to.
9 February 2008
poem by David Harris
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Locked Doors
For the angels who inhabit this town,
although their shape constantly changes,
each night we leave some cold potatoes
and a bowl of milk on the windowsill.
Usually they inhabit heaven where,
by the way, no tears are allowed.
They push the moon around like
a boiled yam.
The Milky Way is their hen
with her many children.
When it is night the cows lie down
but the moon, that big bull,
stands up.
However, there is a locked room up there
with an iron door that can't be opened.
It has all your bad dreams in it.
It is hell.
Some say the devil locks the door
from the inside.
Some say the angels lock it from the outside.
The people inside have no water
and are never allowed to touch.
They crack like macadam.
They are mute.
They do not cry help
except inside
where their hearts are covered with grubs.
I would like to unlock that door,
turn the rusty key
and hold each fallen one in my arms
but I cannot, I cannot.
I can only sit here on earth
at my place at the table.
poem by Anne Sexton
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February
February’s time is short,
But it’s my first resort.
Filled with chocolates, flowers and cheer,
It’s my favorite month of the year.
I love how each day shines
As they spread forth with valentines.
It’s a month dedicated to love
In this world of push and shove.
So stop and think of what really counts,
Like people and times that are small amounts,
But give your life meaning like February...
Fill your days with love so make them merry.
poem by Gregory Huyette
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The Room
(chris waters/tom shapiro)
When I pull in the drive where your car used to be
It doesnt hurt me like it used to
I can walk through the door, and not wonder anymore
Where you are, like I used to
I can go down the hall, see the pictures on the wall
And not miss you
But I just cant bring myself to go into..
The room
Where I spent every night with you
And the light of the moon
Came through the window
And I held you
We were so close
And its just too soon
For me to go into the room
Id remember too much if I opened that door
And Im not sure if I could face it
The beds emptiness would remind me youre with
Someone else, and I couldnt take it
So, I sleep on the couch in our living room now
Since our love died
cause Im still not ready yet to go inside...
The room
Where I spent every night with you
And the light of the moon
Came through the window
And I held you
We were so close
And its just too soon
For me to go into the room
Where the light of the moon
Came through the window
And I held you
We were so close
And its just too soon
For me to go into the room
song performed by by Wade Hayes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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February Girl
Her leaves can not crumble
But the earth is telling her to tremble
She can not listen
And will not hear
The sickness is keeping her still
February girl
Winter comes and goes
She wonders will it kill
Flowers grow
She prays for the sun to show
That February girl
Winter is here and she hates the snow
Chilled to the bone
Oh how she hates the snow
Put on your winter coat
She wishes to be a oak and not a willow
Oh February girl
Winter will soon go.
poem by Cassanndra King
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A
“Christmas In February”
I know it’s not Christmas time,
But my wish is to now have it anyway.
So I can hear the laughter of my little ones,
Opening their gifts on my February Christmas Day.
Wonderful scents of Christmas ham with gravy and biscuits,
Along with my mother’s spicy peach cobbler recipe.
All this is what I wish to have this February,
I pray for all those most precious of past Christmas’s memories.
Children are now all grown up,
They’ve gone on their ways.
Don’t write or call of visit me much,
I never wanted them to exclude me in such a way.
For my heart still remembers their childhood days,
But now they’re all grown and in their own world it seems.
And left me with just my memories of Christmas past,
And stuck with only my old timer kind of wishful dreams.
poem by Linda Winchell
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Christmas In February
“Christmas In February”
I know it’s not Christmas time,
But my wish is to now have it anyway.
So I can hear the laughter of my little ones,
Opening their gifts on my February Christmas Day.
Wonderful scents of Christmas ham with gravy and biscuits,
Along with my mother’s spicy peach cobbler recipe.
All this is what I wish to have this February,
I pray for all those most precious of past Christmas’s memories.
Children are now all grown up,
They’ve gone on their ways.
Don’t write or call of visit me much,
I never wanted them to exclude me in such a way.
For my heart still remembers their childhood days,
But now they’re all grown and in their own world it seems.
And left me with just my memories of Christmas past,
And stuck with only my old timer kind of wishful dreams.
poem by Linda Winchell
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Music Of Love 2
The music of love
is everywhere
as spring rears its head.
Flowers start to bud;
birds in the trees
start to sing their mating call.
The world wakens every morn
to the music of love
as it sings it through the trees
inviting everything to join in
and sing its chorus strong.
21 February 2008
poem by David Harris
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Fishing Time
Hands in pockets
Pants tucked neatly in his boots
He stood looking at the river
Brown cap with earflaps down
Keeping the cold at bay
This sunny February morning
Longing by the river
His eyes measured the banks
Dreaming of fishing time
February 20,1997
poem by Marjorie DeBol DeFazio
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There Is No Forcing Oneself On The Other
love is a democracy
it does not force itself upon other people's hearts
when it is welcomed
it enters the door and expects to be cared for
when it is time to leave
love knows how to make that graceful exit
it goes out the door of mutuality
leaves the room
leaves nothing
it closes the door slowly
there is no banging of anything
the words are kind
when it says goodbye.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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It’s February And Romance Is In The Air
It’s February and romance is in the air.
Shops are filled with things to give your lady fair.
Heart shaped items to express I love you
for both men and women to confess their love is true.
Someone somewhere is making a big fat profit out of this
and certainly isn’t me.
Florist jack their prices up just for Valentines Day.
In Fact, everyone does the same,
because they know only too well
people are going to buy them of pay the consequence,
and consequence could be nasty.
Therefore, if you see someone
with a rolling pin implanted in their head,
or a frying pan with a big dent in it
you will know someone has forgotten
and paid the consequence.
12 February 2007
poem by David Harris
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Xmas In February
Sam was lyin in the jungle
Agent orange spread against the sky like marmalade
Hendrix played on some foreign jukebox
They were praying to be saved
Those gooks were fierce and fearless
Thats the price you pay when you invade
Xmas in february
Sam lost his arm in some border town
His fingers are mixed with someones crop
If he didnt have that opium to smoke
The pain would never ever stop
Half his friends are stuffed into black body bags
With their names printed at the top
Xmas in february
Sammy was a short order cook
In a short order black and blue collar town
Everybody worked the steel mill
But the steel mill got closed down
He thought if he joined the army
Hed have a future that was sound
Like no xmas in february
Sams staring at the vietnam wall
Its been a while now that hes home
His wife and kid have left, hes unemployed
Hes a reminder of the war that wasnt won
Hes the guy on the street with the sign that reads
Please help send this vet home
But he is home
And theres no xmas in february
No matter how much he saves
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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