Sigh Of The Returnee
it is not the fullness that
overflows
it is the emptiness
of the house when you arrive
when the door that feigns the abundance within the room
finally surrenders
to the brokenness of the hinges
it is the fullness that spreads
too quickly like an ink of the squid
from the previous paths
of its escapades
from the threats of the predating ell
it is the silence that fills
the nothingness that sings
the unmoving furniture dressed in dust
the tempura that is left uneaten
and now
filled with
molds.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Remember The Jar In The Yard Praying To The Moon
if you remember me
you must remember too the
empty earthen jar
places at the middle of
the garden
it has no water
it has only air
but the flowers in the garden
adore its
invisible fullness
even when it rains
it feels the emptiness
of the waters
and even when the sun shines
all day
it fills the fullness
of the light
for in truth
there is always reason
for one
who never ceases to live
to crave for
even, death, to know
the beauty of
what is there
and is there not.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
To be filled with God is a great thing, to be filled with the fullness of God is still greater; to be filled with all the fullness of God is greatest of all.
quote by Adam Clarke
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Emptiness
Emptiness can't be filled
until the heart is at rest.
Fullness can't be alleviated
until the heart is blessed
with the sweetness of a springtime day
that you find has come your way.
Emptiness has left a line
running from my breast
to my waist.
The only way to remove it
is to have you taste
my sadness.
Then it will be taken away.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Yogic...
searching for clarity
the best of which is an empty slate
that which we mistake sometimes
for clarity actually is one that contains nothing
as though
emptiness is one of those that has
nothing inside it
as though when things are in their fullness
like a flower in full bloom
as though
fullness is mess and must be
avoided
as though fullness is pain and emptiness
is unloading and must heretofore
be marked as the
ballroom
happiness so to speak
messy is noise and the empty window is clear
but the pool of water without the disturbance of the wind
is full and yet
mirrors some clarifications
that you can see your face unadulterated by grief
undiluted by any dropp of lamentation
one dives farther to see what is real and perhaps
sleep for a while
drowsiness of reality
illusion is a little bit tipsy because of so much thoughts
unthink, undream,
unmind.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Hand Me Downs
Ive taken so many down
Ive helped them all to dismount
Ive followed so many down
I take their hand me downs
All with hope
All with hope
That emptiness brings fullness
And loss of love brings wholeness
All with hope
All with hope
That emptiness brings fullness
And loss of love brings wholeness
To us all
Everything that I believe
Crawls from underneath the streets
Everything I truly love
Comes from somewhere far above
Everything that I believe
Is wrong with you is wrong with me
Everything I truly love
I love in you and I love in me
So give me hope
Give me hope
That emptiness brings fullness
And loss of love brings wholeness
To us all
You swear you cant swim the river
(Ive become the beggar now)
(youve become the saint somehow)
But I saw you running to jump in
(Ive become the beggar now)
(youve become the saint somehow)
I swore Id never be your sinner
(Ive become the beggar now)
(youve become the saint somehow)
Til I held your sin
Hand me downs
Now you ask me why Im here
The same as you
Im scared - its fear
Ive become the beggar now
And youve become the saint somehow
Twist the words and place the blame
And tell me now arent we the same
Tripping in our yellow feet
Checking underneath our sheets
For some hope
Give me hope
That emptiness brings fullness
And loss of love brings wholeness
Give me hope
Give me hope
That emptiness brings fullness
And loss of love brings wholeness
To us all
song performed by by Indigo Girls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Time For Light Away From The Shadows And Dark Corners
it is time for light
shine, shine
and take away the little dark corners
drive away the shadows
on the fullness of your day
and then we will dance
and sing and make merry
under the fullness of your grace
and your loving warmth
come light, come
take away everything
that we are not
and we are not supposed to be
come light, come
light our paths so we will see
the truth
that as children of God
we are meant to be happy.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Circuitous Route Of Existence
i should have stopped
a long time ago, i should have ceased
like a light feeding upon itself
a candle eating all its
body of wax,
i should have done it earlier, quit and leave
and not look back,
i never did it, and there must be a reason
an explanation for this addiction,
a justification for moving on,
i am not saying that it is you,
neither myself,
perhaps it is this emptiness that is seeking
fullness
this fullness that empties itself because it is not at comfortable
when things are heavy
on a journey,
perhaps it is a circle,
and there is no knowing where to start where to end
nothing marked,
all the same, dance of life, monotonous, consuming,
and yet never knowing....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Was It Something Wrong?
and so the moon
in its fullness finally kissed
the face
of the river
and the river
shimmered
as though it felt the coldness
of the rain
the moon asks the wind
if there is something wrong
with love
the winds hushed
as though something happened
as though
kissing is shameful
when it is done with the fullness
of desire
the grasses
who buries everything
past and future
as usual, are as silent
as though
nothing is memorable
like the indifference of the stones.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Stillness
Stillness
This room, dirty windows and
pale squares
were pictures hung,
has no furniture,
dust on floorboards
dance to a tune unheard by man;
the beauty here is that of
eternal nothingness,
the essence of happiness is less,
yet many fill their
space with futile objects
because they can’t bear
the intrusive silence of bareness.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Without fullness of experience, length of days is nothing. When fullness of life has been achieved, shortness of days is nothing. That is perhaps why the young have usually so little fear of death; they live by intensities that the elderly have forgotten.
quote by Lewis Mumford
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Abandoned House And The Man Who Drags His Shoes To Make The Necessary Sound
when you arrive in the house
(the house that both of you built 17 years ago)
no one is there
not even the three white dogs
you have accepted this face of loneliness
without a mouth
it is its nature now
gentle in silence
there is nothing to talk about with someone else
when someone else is far away and seemingly taking all the hearts out
the door and the hinges have to keep things for themselves
for in truth, those who left the stairs
they still love
you have the key to the door of the kitchen
and that is where you start the journey towards the living room
you scurry on some little memories
it is like putting some words in your notes
in here and there beyond the margins
but it is not that endless really
for whatever it be
joy or death there's got to be an end
that is the truth of the meaning of
this word
it could be a dead-end
a street of walls
& then actually you are caught
in flagrante
where your only choice
is to go back,
retrace,
remember,
refresh
refrains, refrains
of a
love song
you go back to the room look longingly at the bed
the blankets are dusty and the pillows are stained with so much emptiness
or guilt
scruples
Freudian analysis
Carl Jung's other possibilities
of reconciliation
this is a very soundless world and
every part here is keeping its mouth shut
their layers of concealment are thick
and their canopies of
self-defenses are hard
you feel like this is one kind of a giant shell
and you are inside it
its flesh
all blistering
flesh
you decide to wear your shoes all throughout this scrutiny
this journey into marriage
into childlessness
into what if's
you drag your feet with your shoes on
as though someone is suffering and wanting to die
and you hold the collar
and you hurt the backbone
and in that open window
you imagine that someone may finally
jump like a scared cat
nine lives
thirty-six softest feet
you purposely make a sound with your shoes
tapping and tapping
and tapping
to create those sounds
of the past dances
just to fill an empty room
some thoughts jump out of the window
dressed in euphemisms
as the ceiling creates its own crankiness
its cloudiness
nine cats in you jump out that window
falling softly on the grass below
all thirty-six
dreams
it is nice to see of course
nine unharmed cats like fluffy cotton blown by the wind and gently
softly land on the grass
it is no wonder
why men sometimes invoke the sound of their whistling
indeed it is by this time
very relaxing
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
An ode to silence
unmoving untold
beguiling and bold
in the depths of my meandering drifts
lie the silence of times
unmoving with permanence
undeterred with resonance
in the unshed tears of my heavy heart
lie the silence of times
unmoving and brilliant
surreal and insistent
in the quest of the kaafir within
lie the silence of times
unmoving yet increasing
hazy, misty and fading
in the crimson light of my throbbing veins
lie the silence of times
poem by Sheena Datta
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Happy Moments
inside your room i keep some peelings
of ripe oranges, and i squeeze them when you finally
take your rest,
at the top of the cabinet i keep a glass of blended strawberries
less the yogurt, and i keep the window open for you
to see the fullness of the moon tonight
and the calmness of the lake,
silvery and shiny and shining
the view is just perfect for the two of us and then
we do what we really want to do
we kiss, we intertwine, we make love, we become one
with the stars and the silence of the spaces of this beautiful universe.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Challenging The Rules Of The Game...
birds fly away from us
because we had always been in
different, some wings are clipped
from the cables of those
bridges,
the cold waters, even,
slip from the emptiness of our fingers,
between us,
some departures are numb
they will be chanting all the possible excuses
those who are left wave their hands
pretending
that they understand the meaning of boats leaving
i stop thinking
i discover that there is no use for the arrangement of
the furniture in the living room
where our bones clutter
when i enter a room
i ignore the door
i am bothered about my constancy for other journeys
i have been looking for apertures
where a part of me must have been hiding
feeling always
incomplete
i arrive at the conclusions like train stations
only to embark
rush, go down the floor, touching the railings
waiting
to cross another busy road
not on
pedestrian lanes....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A New Door
i remember
this door was made
12 years ago
the day when i married you.
we chose clear lacquer
to keep its original
mahogany grain
we keep the gloss
and we were never
at loss.
there were loud slams
oh, i hate to remember
but there were also gentler closes
of this door
with all the tender intents
of not having to disturb
a single soul.
then the hinges begin to rust
and the door creaks and
screams getting louder
like the madness of the one
who fears
that love is finally gone.
the termites came
and the frames get hollow as
time pierces it
showing the emptiness
inside it as though
it was mere kind
of a seashell
the knob is finally broken
and the key to open it again
was lost
then we come back to our senses
after twelve years
the door has to be replaced
with a new one
this time white in paint
the hinges glossy copper
the knob in shining silver
and the key fits in without any sound
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Allegory Of The Cycle Of Doors
and so there is this door that appears before you
and you open it
and then when you enter the room
another door appears
this is the cycle of doors that keep on appearing and you
keep on opening
but the room still appears from a distance
always distant
from your eager feet to enter
you say to enter the room i must please the door
but the room moves away just the same
and the door tells you
to keep the room
you have to burn it and when the room is burned
the door finally disappears
and then both the door and the room shall tell you
now be happy
for you now have a house of your own
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Grief And Sorrow
grief and sorrow one day
in the life of a man
bathe under the light of
golden silence
together they walk and move
towards the place where patience lives
in the house of simplicity and
forgiveness
under the nooks of forgetting
hope is touched but there are no tears
there is only the dimple of freshness
to start anew
a map unfolds showing the path to tread
on the hills of contentment lies
the new born baby of
happiness
the stars glitter and even the moon which had kept
its silence
slides away from the comfort of the darkness of the
night's embrace
it sings the most beautiful song of solitude
then rests its fullness on the edge of the pond of bliss
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Unthinks-balloon
Ask a saint
or ask a balloon
how fullness
can be emptiness;
how joyful they both are!
*
[leaning on Rumi]
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
You pray in your distress and in your need; would that you might also pray in the fullness of your joy and in your days of abundance.
quote by Kahlil Gibran
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Door Of The House Of My Ancestors
this morning i am
confronted with an old door
of the old house of my
ancestors,
the rust that eats the hinges
finally frees the door
at last!
it was enslaved by the haunting
sounds of the sudden
slam
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!