Some Images That I Want To Remember
my little brown dog
bringing back
the black stick
that i have thrown
to the yard
the gray gravel
and purple pebbles
scattered
on a pathway
to her garden
the ylang-ylang tree
still blossoming
on this hot
month of november
a parked maroon
pick-up
some leaves
falling on the
hood
glass jalousies
still closed
some dusts
on the computer
keyboard
opening something
closed
and
dusting off
some unwanted
memories
my hands
shall caress the
letters
and i shall start
thinking again
what now?
where to?
and where
and why?
i am empty
and i am now ready
to fill myself again.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
Little Child
when you have learned how to climb
the ylang-ylang tree
you finally find the nest of the brown sparrow
and you come to me
bringing four tiny eggs
do you not see two sparrows perched
on a branch?
do you not hear them singing their own
funeral hymn?
sorry, i am out of touch.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Worms Climbing The Ylang-ylang Tree
this is the season
for the worms to
climb the ylang-ylang tree
rain or shine
the seemingly endless
quest begins
i sometimes i think
do they ever believe
that somewhere
at the top of the
tree is the largest
and the greenest
of all the leaves?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Then The Tears Shall Start To Fall
Another year has ended
Summer has come for us to bask in the sun
In sandy white beaches with friends,
But I must now take leave
My time has come
Alas, the ylang-ylang trees in our garden
Without me
Shall still bloom and spread its scents
When the wind comes again
Tonight
Then the tears shall start
To fall
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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242
then the tears shall start to fall
Another year has ended
Summer has come for us to bask in the sun
In sandy white beaches with friends,
But I must now take leave
My time has come
Alas, the ylang-ylang trees in our garden
Without me
Shall still bloom and spread its scents
When the wind comes again
Tonight
Then the tears shall start
To fall
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Early Morning
the rain just stops showering.
the leaves are wet and some dews are staying.
the sun peeps.the petals of the flowers open up.
some buds follow. some fruits hang heavily on the mango tree.
a pig is tied under and starts burrowing the muddy ground.
some leaves fall. orange in color.
soft winds from the sea come.
the twigs sway. a ripe papaya falls.
a stone receives it.
a cat comes to check if there is any fish.
a dog barks.a bystander runs to the other side of the road.
the canal is full of rainwater. some leaves clog.
moss thickens on the side of the cemented drainage.
a cockcroach runs away and hides on a crevice.
a rat looks over a railing on the roof of the camarin.
an ylang-ylang flower gets caught on the tin roof.
the white sampaguita opens up finally to the
sunny sky. a butterfly hovers. a bee buzzes near my forehead.
my hand makes a snap. it escapes away.
some fruitflies find a new territory on the rotten apple
which i threw last night in the garbage can.
i start the engine of my car. and then to the office i am gone.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Dusts
she is a woman fond of cleaning
dust and dirt and
almost everything that
makes this house dirty
or herself, her hands
her clothes and the
furniture that she keeps
on dusting
almost everyday
she slides her fingers
on the table and screens
the surface for dusts
and she thinks
this world must
be free
from dusts
she keeps dusting and dusting
and tonight
she sleeps
deep into
a slumber where
she does not wake up
anymore
she turns to dust
and the wind blows her away at last
poem by Antonio Liao
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I Have Seen Your Picture With Your Daughters In Kimono
i have seen a long time ago
you and your daughters in their colorfol kimonos
then there was this guitar that you play
and the english language that you teach
and the education you are giving them
there are other many people in this world
not just us,
we are not living inside walls and fences
there are other playgrounds out there
where you my children can
play
beyond colors beyond chinky eyes
are other possibilities with us
the firetrees here burn with loneliness
this summer
forgetting the color of your memories
Japan, the city of the sun
where you now live
has claimed the name of your soul
but i know
under the blooms of cherry blossoms
this spring your heart still beats for the fire trees here
you still love the scent of the champaca
miss the yellow ylang-ylang on the hill
and the dama de noche has more love stories
to tell for the dark nights
where fireflies still flicker
those that we have long forgotten
still exist
we shall meet somehow filled with stories those left untold
when we have busied ourselves
with what could have been so unnecessary
those that we see only after they have been taken away
and time shall sit in one corner of the garden's wooden benches
and ponder
was there something wrong with the past?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Falling Short Of Words
from this window
glass i see narra trees
the leaves had fallen
it is cold
i am alone looking carefully at the details
of leafless twigs
branches are dry
barks are cracked
the grasses below are brown
beside the fence two boys are playing hide and seek
cars blue and white and black are parked
in one area like gossiping women
i am alone thinking about some details
falling short of words.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Lonely Filipinos
Some lonely Filipinos
Working for a living
Read poems of
Happiness
To appease their
Feelings of loneliness
Away from home
Here in a foreign land
At freezing temperatures
They wish for
Sunshine, and blue clouds
White sand beaches
And warm embraces
Of loved ones
Sometimes loneliness
Wins and they look
Inside themselves
Finding certain strengths
In old Molave trees
Flexibilities in green
Pliant bamboos
And sampaguitas scents
Or could be ylang-ylang
Perfume,
Or they resort to food,
Cook the adobo & dinuguan & puto
On wintry days perhaps,
And to really kill
This rampage of boredom
They make thin slices
Of raw mangoes
Dipped in bagoongs,
Black paste of shrimps
The taste lingers
In taste buds and
Tongues start to
Water,
To green slices of raw mangoes
Salivation is easy.
On these thin slices of
Green raw mangoes
Perhaps the Filipino
Forgets what loneliness is all about.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Closed My Eyes
I closed my eyes and went back to sleep,
thinking to get back to that bad dream
but unfortunately,
It was not this time.
I closed my eyes and went back to sleep,
hoping to wake up,
and welcome a beautiful day,
But was already caught in the darkness.
I closed my eyes and went back to sleep,
wishing to start the day,
seeing his face,
sadly that would just be in dream.
I closed my eyes and went back to sleep.
waiting for that wake up kiss,
but sadly never would be true again,
poem by Pratisha Karki
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Pop-up Adverts and how They Crush Your Soul
I sat by my screen intending to write
An ode to the woman who gives my soul flight
Start up the computer and run through my mind
To see what emotions and feelings I find
‘Your eyes make my heart beat so fast it’ll pop’
(pop) SHOOT THE DANCING BEARS HAT AND WIN A LAPTOP!
I click the advert closed and try to regroup
My thoughts and my dreams and take another swoop
‘Your smile gives me joy other people wont know’
(pop) JOIN OUR NEW ON-LINE HYPER CASINO!
My flow interrupted again by this ad
I close it and try to get back what I had
‘Without you by me the world becomes scarier’
(pop) MEET OTHER HOT SINGLES WHO LIVE IN YOUR AREA!
A scowl, a click, I growl and flick my screen back to my ode
I try again to board my train of thought back down the road
‘Your voice gives me love, all my heart will allow’
(pop) FREE SMILIES AND POINTERS FOR YOU TO OWN NOW!
---
I pick up my paper and ready my pen
To start to create my poem again
‘Your soft touch sends sparks all over my skin,
Like the sparks that fly from the computer in my bin’.
poem by Flying Lemming
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Willow Tree
Let me be your weeping willow tree
Surround you with my long limbs
My dear, let me grow in the shade
In the sands by the bank of your river
Let I drink from your streams
The cool breeze fill my leaves
We will sing together
Water over the pebbles
And Ill be by your side forever
I wish I was a weeping willow tree
I wish I was a weeping willow tree
I wish I was a weeping willow tree
Sweet river caress how softly
Stir my searching roots
Shading the sun in the summers heat
Let I cool you
We have been dancing so long
In the winters freeze and the summers drought
We survive
We belong
Let us sing together
Water over the pebbles
And Ill be by your side forever
I wish I was your weeping willow tree
I wish I was a weeping willow tree
I wish I was a weeping willow tree
Let us sing together
Water over the pebbles
And Ill be by your side forever
Let us sing together
Water over the pebbles
And Ill be by your side forever
We can sing together
Water over the pebbles
And Ill be by your side forever
Let me be
Your willow tree
Your willow tree
song performed by by G. Love & Special Sauce
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Drug Dealer
Today-
I asked myself.
Why are the oak tree’s purple?
And the grass blue?
Why is the sky green?
And the leaves hot pink?
Why is that gravel red?
And the rocks of that garden yellow?
Then I thought
and thought over again
a million times
and realized...
I’m high.
I’m up higher than the orange clouds in the green sky
My heart is as bright as the rocks of that garden
My thoughts are as eccentric as the hot pink color of the leaves
that fell from the purple tree
My eyelashes flutter flirtatiously like the way the wind
blows the blue blades of grass around.
Love is a drug,
and I’m high-
You happen to be my dealer.
poem by Breanna Schwartz
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What you ask?
A punctuation mark… Molten in wax
A shimmering flirtation within the night!
A 'dog's cock 'a flower like Devils Flax
With its yellow and orange tongue—alight!
In the Qin dynasty— the first made of whale fat.
(221-206 BC) . What you ask? O the simple earliest candle.
'And, peddled to princes not any wharf rat'
Used to compose; by George Frederick Handel.
It was an interjection a big 'bang'
Can you imagine their exclamation? !
When White ivory keys scented of ylang-ylang
Went; splat, splat, splat in golden summation.
A dazzling feat was their interjections
Now we have light let's answer many more questions.
............................... ...............
A 'dog's cock' and 'bang' are also names for a punctuation mark!
poem by Mark Heathcote
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When The Leaves Come Falling Down
I saw you standing with the wind and the rain in your face
And you were thinking bout the wisdom of the leaves and their grace
When the leaves come falling down
In september when the leaves, come falling down
And at night the moon is shining on a clear, cloudless sky
And when the evening shadows fall Ill be there by your side
When the leaves come falling down
In september when the leaves, come falling down
Follow me down, follow me down, follow me down
To the place beside the garden and the wall
Follow me down, follow me down
To the space before the twilight and the dawn
Oh, the last time I saw paris in the streets, in the rain
And as I walk along the boulevards with you, once again
And the leaves come falling down
In september, when the leaves come falling down
Follow me down, follow me down, follow me down
To the place between the garden and the wall
Follow me down, follow me down
To the space between the twilight and the dawn
And as Im looking at the colour of the leaves, in your hand
As were listening to chet baker on the beach, in the sand
When the leaves come falling down,
Woe in september, when the leaves come falling down
Oh when the leaves come falling down
Yeah in september when the leaves come falling down
When the leaves come falling down
In september, when the leaves come falling down
When the leaves come falling down in september, in the rain
When the leaves come falling down
When the leaves come falting down in september, in the rain
When the leaves come falling down
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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0195 Autumn Gardener
Gathering rosebuds with my rake;
the wooden tines scraping
over the gravel path
bringing a token of order
to the autumn of a life;
rosebuds, nipped at the neck
by frost; dead leaves
curled like begging or covetous hands,
coloured like rich memories, red, orange, brown,
dry husks, spilt seed,
now crisp, eager to surrender to the fire,
its scented smoke curling like a pyre against
a cold blue sky now welcoming
a tidy offering up;
how clean, how sharp the autumn air
darker under the trees
the leaves still wet
limp and flat as hope defeated,
pressed together as
words not meant, or
something missed;
next year the leaves
will remember innocence,
the tree broader, eager,
brown as wisdom tipped with exploratory green.
gathering rosebuds with my rake
the season with its woodsmoke, evocative,
tempting to metaphor, hovering,
a garden of lost meaning;
no longer, this cooling autumn, a construction,
but speaking its own seriousness.
how clean, how sharp the autumn air
scented by surrender
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Ballad Of Sal Villanueva
It's not that i don't trust you
i just know what you've been up to
and this dial tone is agreeing with everything i've had in mind.
and you've got your high as a kite tricks in the bag.
so as his eyes move down past your shoulders
and the shades start moving in the same direction
don't worry, i won't say a thing.
you can't blame a girl for sticking to what she knows.
i hope he takes his time
and i hope he keeps your eyes closed tight
and i hope that when he leaves,
you still smell him on your sheets
because i can, i can.
i hope he takes his time
and i hope he keeps your eyes closed tight
and i hope that when he leaves,
you still smell him on your sheets
because i can, i can.
if i could get to sleep
then, i guess you could stop pretending.
because if i didnt think you loved him
well then i would lay alone
and you've got your high as a kite tricks in the bag.
i hope he takes his time
and i hope he keeps your eyes closed tight
and i hope that when he leaves,
you still smell him on your sheets
because i can, i can.
i hope he takes his time
and i hope he keeps your eyes closed tight
and i hope that when he leaves,
you still smell him on your sheets
because i can, i can.
you're down for selling me out
while i play dumb,
but it's cool because i let you, you thought i'd never catch you,
you said "we're only friends." yeah, real good friends, i bet. i bet.
you're down for selling me out
while i play dumb,
but it's cool because i let you, you thought i'd never catch you,
you said "we're only friends." yeah, real good friends, i bet. i bet.
you're down for selling me out
while i play dumb,
but it's cool because i let you, you thought i'd never catch you,
you said "we're only friends." yeah, real good friends, i bet. i bet.
forget your legs around my hips.
forget your hands pressed on my back.
forget all the letters that i kept.
this is another i won't send.
forget your lips, your eyes, your thighs.
forget our one last kiss goodbye.
forget me staking out your house.
forget ive got you figured out.
forget your legs around my hips.
forget your hands pressed on my back.
forget all the letters that i kept.
this is another i won't send
song performed by by Taking Back Sunday
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Her Letter Dated July 1,2008, To Me, It Is Poem By Itself
I wonder how many more poems related to me I've missed.
I also wonder if you're a mind-reader.
Every springtime when the cherries bloom,
I do think of fire trees dotting Mt. Makiling
and lining the highways of Los Banos.
When wisterias bloom here,
I think of the jade vine in Makiling forest.
The pink, red and white flowers of azalea are pretty when they bloom in April to May,
but they can't compare with the explosion of colors of bougainvillea flowers trailing over the terraces of the buildings of IRRI where I used to work years ago.
I wonder if they are still there.
I did ask my father to plant ylang-ylang or sampaguita years ago,
because in Dipolog,
I can hardly find them anymore.
But father preferred palm trees, orchids, and anthurium.
Yes, I'll always miss the land of my birth.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Autumn
(10/13/11)
The autumn leaves falling on the ground
The autumn leaves of yellow, orange and brown
The trees like a rainbow of colors
Such as this there is no other.
My friends would climb up the smallest trees
And shake the leaves down to me.
then the leaves are raked up and placed in a large pile
Children diving in and laughing all the while.
The crispy crunch that you hear
Sends the chills through your ears.
The autumn leaves reminding us
That Halloween was very near
Where we could dress up and create some fear.
But for now we would have our fun
Chasing each other with our water guns
Diving into leaves of gold and brown
Hoping that we wouldn’t be found.
The park keeper was as happy as can be
From raking the leaves he was free.
He would pick them up and putting
Them into the metal cans- and the smell
Of burning leaves would fill the air
Letting people know that autumn was here.
(memories are made of this- like the song)
poem by Louis Rams
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Colors, the Poem
Every color has a meaning for our being,
They can aggravate, give calmness or spiritual healing.
Let's start with RED, life, hunger, anger, sex and doing,
When the BLUE is for thinking, the truth, calming and healing.
The GREEN is a healer, can give great hope
In the goodness & a beautiful tomorrow to develop.
Until YELLOW means wisdom for the mind,
When BROWN is earthyness, & selfishness for human kind.
WHITE is for the angels, not for us here on Earth,
Gives great impatient, nervousness, down to the dirt.
BLACK is emptiness with boldness, but no logic,
Without knowing the consequences, almost ironic.
SILVER OR GRAY is helping to find your confidence,
Some of the gray can give fear, terror or a need to self defense
Until GOLD is materialistic on the ignorant way,
However, PINK is God's love for the Universe's play.
ORANGE is the healer with red (life) & yellow (wisdom) ,
Until MAROON (red-black) gives selfishness & not stardom.
PURPLE is red & blue, what you think you do,
VIOLET has more blue for the spirit & for you.
poem by LaSoaphia QuXazs
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