Shaking My Head...
on this month of
June
the mango tree fronting our office
is bearing so many
fruits
the children are happy
hitting it with
sticks and
some who have the money
use
the slingshots
i can imagine myself
being hit with
round stones
i shake my head
many time from
this glass window.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Mango Tree And The Children
the mango tree
blooms on the month
of May
fruits are heavy
soon
on all its branches
is opulence
Comes June
the children come
with their sticks
and slings
and stones
the mango tree is
hit once again
and all the fruits
fall to the
ground
the children
have all the fun
saliva flows from
tongues
dipping in
salt
as early as that
they know what fun is
by hurting those
that fruit so well
by taking the fruits
beyond
what they actually
need
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Like A Mango Tree
like a mango tree bearing so many fruits
this month of May
the unruly children gather around
with stones and sticks
and beat each branch
and both the young and
mature fruits fall
without a careful
segregation
what a waste!
the moral lesson is:
do not be too fruitful, just be leaves and twigs.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Under The Mango Tree
i like the idea
of doing many things under the mango tree
like
watching time go by like it is a stranger
and i
am a stranger too watching time pass by
like i am so interested
with what time
can do to me
making me old
making the mango tree bloom and flower and have fruits
and they are so many
that the mango tree bends
to the ground
and time stays for a while and ripens the fruits
and make all of them
in time
fall one by one to the ground
like some kind
of withered flowers
luscious, sweet, fruits of the mango tree
falling
by the slightest passing of the wind
and then the children
come and with all joy
pick them one by one
putting what they can
under
their shirts and still rushing
to keep
and take some more
under the mango tree
all the people
are so much alike
the rushing, the taking, the joy
of always having more
and it will never stop
as i watch time slowly go by
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Red Motorcycle With Least Meaning
it is raining.
this is the first rain for the month of June
in Katipunan
i sit facing a screen
i press words
i look through a glass window
much older than my being here,
out there
the mango tree is heavy with its fruits
under its shade is
a red motorcycle beside a hollow block fence
which separates a dilapidated house
from the public market
a woman holds a blue umbrella
walks slowly along the pavement
it is still raining
cats and dogs, and the red motorcycle is wet all over.
it is inanimate and everyone
takes it for granted.
among those that i have enumerated
perhaps it must be the one with the least meaning.
the day is crying
and the woman with the blue umbrella is unaffected.
inside this room
with a glass window as protection
i am sifting
what meaning is there
for this rainy day.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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What We Write Sometimes Strike Us
after a day
i read what has been written
it shocks me sometimes to see
a different picture
bearing another interpretation
of these realities
it is like a tree bearing new surprises
of leaves and flowers
not on its proper season yet
June is usually the month of its fruits
there must be error for the month of May
something strikes me
things pop out, a word a phrase
losing their meanings
faded, and scratched
sometimes i ask, what is this?
this is not it, not me,
how come that it is here?
i drag it in a socket of the bone
to keep it
it protrudes as a fracture
a story with a plot of its own
a poem whose metaphor
anymore, i cannot decipher.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Poetics 8....
early morning
i am confronted with
a choir of
black birds
crowning the fruitless
mango tree
fronting my window
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Simplest Joy...
one day
i gaze upon the window
it is raining
outside
and the Santol tree fronting our house
is laden with ripe fruits
like one
Christmas tree...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Fatso & His Lady!
That mango tree was no normal
It got immense love so mortal
From dawn to dusk he watered
Hoping it is never left shattered
Plucking the fruits in noon
He sat by it with all bloom.
That mango tree is no normal
It got immense love so mortal
What is it that brings that bloom
In this man so fat & hair so white
Was the thought that always rung
When I usually see him sing.
That mango tree is no normal
It got immense love so mortal
My lady love sowed this seed
& fed to it her life
I cried cried & I cried
And one day she grew up
Through ground & this is it
He told with a whisper.
That mango tree is no normal
It got immense love so immortal
Telling his tale of love
He had the last mango from it
He bore a smile on face
A tear in each eye
The seed in his palm.
That mango tree is no normal
It got immense love so mortal
Inspite of it being watered
Although I gave utmost care
In no time it became dry
And in air remained only their love……..
poem by BhanuPrakash Singh
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As many joys as there are pains.
The mango tree gave me fruits and shades.
I was sad when I left.
The jack tree gave me fruits and shades.
I was sad when I left.
Likewise were a few more trees
That gave me different fruits and shades.
There are trees having given me shades.
I was sad when I left them in sequence.
Each sensation was punctuated by a stroke.
Each parting gave me a heart break.
Unions beget joys and partings, sorrows.
Sorrows follow because joys preceded.
The one who sticks to only one is unfortunate.
19.11.2000, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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As many joys as there are sorrows.
The mango tree gave me fruits and shades.
I was sad when I left.
The jack tree gave me fruits and shades.
I was sad when I left.
Likewise were a few more trees
That gave me different fruits and shades.
There’re trees having given me only shades.
I was sad when I left them in sequence.
Each sensation was punctuated by a stroke.
Each parting gave me a heart break.
Unions beget joys and partings, sorrows.
Sorrows follow because joys preceded.
The one who sticks to one love is unfortunate.
19.11.2000, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Imagine Angels
imagine angels.
imagine a bolt of lightning
out of the blue so blue
striking a tree
a few feet away
imagine a thunderstorm
remaining overhead all night
imagine a summer dawn arising
as if for the first time on the earth
imagine cats and dogs whimpering
as the ground trembles
with the approaching earthquake
imagine the equation for space-time
there in the mind as you wake
imagine the death of children
imagine the birth of children
imagine the first love
of your lover
imagine a joy beyond detachment
imagine a detachment beyond joy
imagine angels
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Imagine the World
Imagine the world ……………………….
Imagine the world without wars…
Imagine the world without your laws
Imagine your life without fear
Imagine your eyes without a tear
Imagine all men were real men
Imagine…imagine…imagine…
Imagine life without hate
Imagine you knew your own fate
Imagine all children were happy
Imagine all nations were free
What would life be like?
Imagine no-one were blind
Imagine all the woes behind
Imagine…….imagine……..imagine….
Imagi ne earth were flat
Imagine man without a heart
Imagine the day without light
Imagine the dark without the night
Imagine……….imagine……imagine……
Imagine faces without a smile
Imagine birds without a nightingale
Imagine …imagine…imagine
What would life be like?
poem by Bouche Cousue
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A Nice Day
bird with a yellow
feather
chirping on a branch
of a tree
fronting my glass
window
i rub doubt away
from my eyelids.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Y.. Tree of Life
The tree of life
It has a branch
A money making branch
The bigger the money making branch
The more comfortable our life
But if the money making branch
Is the only branch
On our tree of life
It is such an ugly and unstable tree.
A prayer and devotion branch
Will stabilize the tree of life
Let it be a real big branch
On your tree of life
But if only two branches on a tree
Imagine how ugly it would still be!
So let there be branches
Of Affability and Charity
Of Cheerfulness and Friendliness
Of Gentleness and Honesty
Of Humility and Compassion
Of Spirituality and Wisdom
Of Courage and Hard work
With these branches present,
It will carry soon the lush greenery
Of love and job satisfaction
And soon enough, the tree of life
Will bear the fruits
Of peace of mind and happiness.
A wonderful tree of life I wish you
with many fine branches
and lots of greenery and fruits.
poem by Aufie Zophy
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Behind the man is the Tree of Life, bearing twelve fruits, and the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil is behind the woman; the serpent is twining round it.
quote by Arthur E. Waite
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Celebration
Shake! shake!
Dont go
I believe in a celebration
I believe you set me free
I believe you can loose this chains
I believe you can dance with me
Dance with me
Shake! shake!
Shake! shake!
I believe in the third world war
I believe in the atomic bomb
I believe in the powers that be
But they wont overpower me
And, and you can go there too
And, and you can go go go go
Shake! shake!
Shake! shake!
And we dont have the time
And everything goes round and round
And we dont have the time
To watch the world go tumbling down
Go! go!
I believe in the bells of christs church
Ringing for this land
I believe in the cells of mount joy
Doesnt understand
And, and you can go there too
And, and you can go go go go
I believe in the walls of jericho (and
You...)
I believe theyre coming down (can
Go there too)
I belive in this citys children (and you...
I believe the trumpets sound (can
Go go go go)
And you can go there too
And you can go go go go...
I believe in what Im doing
What am I doing here...
song performed by by U2
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Idle in June
She dares not let the world hear her speak,
She's getting thin and looking meek,
A grey hair is splitting in her widows peak
She lays idle in the month of June.
Her hands are cracked and stained from mud,
although she bathes in lathered suds
There's a little of me inside her blood
She lays idle in the month of June
She carries child at her old age,
She's stuck inside her fleshy cage,
Her father birthed her insidious rage
She lays idle in the month of June.
They locked her in a cell up high,
The crime of seeking suicide
Some women they are born only to die,
She lays idle in the month of June.
One day, I know, I'll see her soon,
How I loathe the month of June,
We'll met again come the next new moon,
I won't forget her, idle in the month of June.
poem by H.J. Shreeve
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Why We Fight pt 1 (Lock and Load)
You’ve walked out the garden and watched your hands go
From picking up berries to picking up ammo
The same sticks and twigs that build up your village
Fight off the conquers and plunders and pillage//
-Stones and sticks and sticks and stones
Gather them up to protect your home
And when needed use them on some bones
Lay them all down to outline your zone
Raise them and burn them on your throne
Monsters can’t outrun the sticks and stones-
Sharpen your spears to take down your dinner
You and the beast can’t both be the winner
It’s about time you got out of this slump
Load up your brains to outsmart the hunt
poem by P.R. Prosper
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June to July
For Junealice Pardo-Vela passed July 4th 2010**
Without the turning of a month I remained a beautiful flower
My vase of narrow glass of narrow food and narrow light
This-too-shall-passing under a sun with slight movement
Slight lines slight light through an open shudder fell
Across a counter until I was only bright in places
And in others cast in shadow where my blossom’s edge began to fall away
But by the light of your window I held myself as straight as tall hiding petals as they fell within the glass
I was bright and smiled and you passed me
While I only hoped you were not afraid
But days do pass and inevitable seeds that flower in inevitable spring are picked and taken away to sit in windows in June
Even before July they start to set like the sun and by July the heat pushes down on them so hard that all they wilt can no longer be hidden
And it is then that you do see me
As sure as you see where I once was
For it is July and I have come to fall away
In the light of your window you see the space where I should be
Keep finding each little petal that I had hid in the glass
I was bright and I smiled as you passed me
In July I am brighter and I smile as I pass away
June has come and she has gone
Within the turning of a month I remain a flower
A beautiful flower without vase or narrow glass or food or narrow light or shuddering or pain or falling down to hide
I pass with the sun
Bright light now shining through a larger window
And I only hope that you are not afraid
poem by Alizon Kiel
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Love is imagination
Love is imagination
We first imagine someone
That will be with us
Here and forever
We imagine someone
That always on our side
In sad and happy moment
We imagine someone
That gives us power
Through all difficult time
We imagine someone
That gives us dream
To fly to the wide sky
We imagine someone
That sleeps with us in the night
And still there when we open our eyes in the morning
We imagine someone
That gives us children of love
And spends his old days with us
We imagine someone
That makes us laugh
Until happiness hurts
We imagine someone
That makes us cry
Until tear becomes relief
We imagine someone
That really cares and loves us
When our imagination fits with our heart
Love continues…
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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