Something That I Have Not Touched With My Hands
while in bed i am enumerating a lot of things
that i really don't know
what they are and where they come from
and what use could they be
in my emptiness i think that something fuller this time
is what i need
like hot water perhaps for a cup for an afternoon tea
but the image is too ordinary for a whim
of this imagination something's got to be better this time
something that i have not touched with my hand
that i have not tasted with my tongue
i know, i know what it is, but i know that i cannot have it
and so i just lay in bed, enumerate the other things
silly and wise, and empty and full, and paths and mountains
and labyrinths, until i am a flash in full speed of images
until i am sleepy and then i forget what is it that i know that i want and yet
i cannot have
and i begin counting sheep and ships and imagine the whole ocean blanket
to my body and
face and then
i sleep
i am tired and when this happens
i do not mind what happens next and
i do not wish about anything
i am done.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
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
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How can I empty My Mind?
Came out that emptiness,
Bored of what I was,
Looking at the atom shining somewhere in me,
I looked at wonderful world I entered,
Looking at beauties with beautiful faces,
I was only the faceless,
Wished to have a face!
Result is what I am now,
Facing problems of having a face,
Not seen by myself!
Some say look into mirror,
But mirror showed image which is not me,
How can live this is me looking at image?
In the path I met some one,
They said ' you suffered a lot,
Empty your mind, be happy, '
But how can empty my mind,
So many fill it everyday,
Hungry faces,
thirsty minds,
Needy hands fill compassion,
lusty and greedy, selfish and cruel fill
people fill pain,
Wise one fill wisdom,
Fools fill laughter,
Friends fill it with love and smile!
How can I empty my mind,
When beauty around,
Smiling kids, playing puppies,
Jumping and running kittens,
colourful fragrant flowers,
Surrounded by bees and butterflies,
Green trees with wide hands full of fruits,
All call me to enjoy with them!
Tall standing trees and stubborn mountains,
lakes and oceans full of life,
they fill my mind as much I empty, more they fill!
I emptied mind in meditation,
But the beauty of one who filled beauty in all filled my mind,
How can empty love for that beautiful one,
Who is that beauty in all that's beautiful!
Smiling and loving people,
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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Multitasking
your body finally succumbs
to sickness of multitasking
talking and listening at the same
time to two or more persons
behind and infront of you
the lack of sincerity
and full attention to a thing
a person
hurt because you have to use
not just a face
not just a hand but too many hands
doing many things
at the same time too many minds
thinking so many thoughts
all at once
after all you are no superman
you are just
the simple man trying to be
much better
than yourself
the body weakens
the mind surrenders
you need sleep
and be away for once
from this ever demanding world
of pretenses
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Think
Imagine if I said I sometimes need you
I need you to this day.
Imagine if I said I sometimes hear you call my name.
Imagine if I said I still could love you.
Imagine what youd say.
Imagine if I said I sometimes still can see your face.
Think about all the things we shared.
Think about all the times we cared.
When all of your hopes have come and gone,
Think about me and Ill be there.
Theres something in the air that feels like winter
The kind we used to know.
Yesterday can seem like such a long, long time ago.
Who could ever count the miles between us?
But now I know its true.
Imagine if I said that all my dreams were dreams of you.
Think about all the things we shared.
Think about all the times we cared.
When all of your dreams have come and gone,
Think about me and Ill be there.
Think about images weve drawn.
Think about all those empty songs.
Whenever youre sure that I wont dare,
Think about me and Ill be gone.
It took me a long, long time to learn
That love is a thing you have to earn
I finally realized its true
I just cant make it without you
Think about all the things we shared
Think about all the times we cared
When all of your dreams have come and gone
Think about me and Ill be there
Think about images weve drawn
Think about all those empty songs
Whenver youre sure that I wont dare
Think about me and Ill be gone
song performed by by Information Society
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Brand New Day....
THAT feeling that you are nothing
we must admit, comes in a while
like a drought in April,
you feel like a Sahara though you have never been there
but it is more real
that dryness of the river of the soul
that runs without a water
winding its way into the labyrinths of your heart
you feel like hanging yourself upon a tree and
saying: this is it
i am swallowed by the mouth of emptiness,
on the other hand, in time you come to your senses
imagining the gardens, and lakes and mountains
the youthful days with friends
as though you wake up from a deep stupor with
the sleep inducing drug
you pinch yourself, ' i am still alive
and there is still a use for my hands and
the whole body'
you open your eyes to see the morning light.
it is a brand new day. it is. it really is.
why must emptiness carry you as though you are a powerless piece
of floating paper in air?
damn it.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Pen Gone Dry
Barren fields…empty places
Mind devoid of idea and rhyme
Sterile imagination…featureless faces
Webs in memories, frozen in time
Fingers flaccid, mind unwilling
Heavy lies this heart of mine
Creative forces not fulfilling
Empty flask of poetic wine
Dried up source of poetic spring
Used up store of poetic phrases
Emptied purse with untied string
Like worn out shoes and old frayed laces
Time away… might grow the field
Time away… might fill the empty places
Perhaps time will let the emptiness yield
To imagination…and full featured faces
Now...inkwell empty
Tear in eye
Pristine paper
Pen... gone dry...
poem by David Whalen
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The Love Letter
She wonders how to begin her letter
She knows he will read each word
Greedily for any hint of love. She knows
He will sniff the paper for any scent of her
She leans an elbow on her writing desk
And clutches her pen tight. She has got
As far as, Dear John, but then the words
Stopped coming. Before she had sat down
To write, the words flowed through her
Mind like a rushing stream, now nothing
She sucks the end of the pen. Say what
You would if you were face to face, her
Mother always said. She tries to imagine
He is there before her and what she would
Say if he was, but still no words will come
He writes to her so fluently when he writes
He always seems to know what to write
And how to put it into words. She tries again
Puts the pen nib onto the paper, gripping
The pen tighter. She reads what she’s written
Dear John. The pen moves, the words begin
To flow, her hand moves across the page
The images come into her mind as she writes
The things that they said last time they met
The things they did, she blushes slightly
That almost being caught out by the maid
In a state of undress. She pauses the pen
And sits gazing at the painting on the wall.
She looks back at the paper and starts again
The words tripping over themselves to be put
Down in ink upon a page; the images open up
In her mind, the colours, the smells, the events
The pen now stops. The love letter is written
The writing done. She looks at the words
Then she seals it in an envelope and writes
His address. She pictures him reading it: in bed
In his room, sleepy, in a state of his usual undress
poem by Terry Collett
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Daddy's Bunny (2006)
The hunt is on
for Easter has begun
Many eggs to find
with candy on his mind
It's his little expedition
but assigned to a mission
enjoying the nice colors
and the insides to devour
Easter basket in shape of a car
filled with toys and candy bars
Spent his day with his mom.
with dad, tired he'd become
A visit with family members
a day full of splendor
sleepy eyes begin to show
give kiss it's time to go
Daddy's Bunny begins to sleep
with a drooling shirt as he counts sheep
poem by David Joel Rodriguez
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I can't forget
I can't forget your smile
I can't forget your laughing eyes
Your kindness causes me to cry
I ask.
I ask.
I ask myself why
Are you s much apart of my life
Our midnight conversations rang in the back of my mind.
Time after Time
I crave for your company
I cry out at night for your warmth
I can't forget the woman you are.
I can't forget you are my friend
As well as my lover.
I can't forget you waiting outside my J.O.B.
To bring me home
I can't forget your tears
When I was laid off.
I can't forget, I just can't
I can't forget the first time I saw you.
Radiant and full of life/ you are.
Your voice low and sweet,
Eyes glued to mine as we speak
I just can't forget
I can't forget how myself esteem grew
While with you.
I can't forget
The long walks and talks of encouragement
You are...You are...You are!
UN_FOR_GET_TABLE!
You are my life line
You are my door to time
I can't forget
Sinking into your womanhood
I can't forget how you cuddled my manhood
I can't forget
You have shown me un-conditional love
And passon as well as concern
I can't forget
Those things I earned
I cant forget
How you crawled into bed next to me
Slow and easy, full of strength.
Pulling me close to your warm and soft body.
Wrapping your legs around mine
As to never let me go.
I can't forget
Giving me eye to eye contact
As we introduced oursleves once again.
I can't forget
As the moon was reaching it's
Apex(so were we)
My emotions outof control
My body limp, but full.
Your scent seasoning the room
With the after glow of us
I can't forget
I can't forget
I can't forget
I love you
That is always
I can't forget
Every morning I wake to a kiss
As gentle and as strong as the mildst river
I can't forget...You...I can't foget.
poem by whisperkwane Lamb
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My Plight.
Bear with me as I tell of my plight,
I am just an old man that cannot sleep at night.
I have counted millions of sheep in my time,
Even written verses that usually rhyme.
Full moon nights are really the worse
For then I am compelled to write more verse.
Sleeping tablets I have take by the score,
These make things worse and cause me to snore.
I have had hot baths before going to bed,
These make my skin wrinkly and red.
Cold showers I have tried to make me sleep,
But I only end up counting more sheep.
They say as one gets older one does not need so much sleep.
When I hear this psuedo wisdom I just want to weep.
When I was young eight hours sleep was just right.
It saw me through a long restful night.
If just for once I could sleep through the night,
I would not ask you to bear with my plight.
poem by Bernard Shaw
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I'm Not Losing Sleep
Yes, I've read the morning papers
Telling me that you've made money
Do you think I'm gonna crawl, then think again
Though I'm dressed in rags, I'm richer
Though I eat from tins, I'm healthier
Though I live in slums, I'm purer than you, my friend
Too bad, I'm not losing sleep
[Too bad] I'm just counting sheep
[Too bad] I'm not losing sleep, my friend
Look around and see the friends
The ones you left, our friends deserted
See the guys that used to talk and drink with you
Don't look down your nose at me
'Cause I won't ask your sympathy
I won't be your yes-sir man for anything
Too bad, I'm not losing sleep
[Too bad] I'm just counting sheep
[Too bad] I'm not losing sleep, my friend
I would walk with you
Talk with you, drink with you
If you drop that halo that you're wearing on the ground
Too bad, I'm not losing sleep
[Too bad] I'm just counting sheep
[Too bad] I'm not losing sleep, my friend
I can't get my satisfaction
Knowing you won't get reaction
What makes me the big attraction anyway
It's too bad, I'm not losing sleep
[Too bad] I'm just counting sheep
[Too bad] I'm not losing sleep, my friend
Too bad, I'm not losing sleep
[Too bad] I'm just counting sheep
[Too bad] I'm not losing sleep, my friend
Oh, it's too bad, I'm not losing sleep
[Too bad] I'm just counting sheep
[Too bad] I'm not losing sleep, my friend
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Meditation Poem 1 - Emptiness of the Mind
emptiness of the mind
a realm bigger than this head can hold
bigger than dead could hold
it is when you are absorbed in
the blossoming of a night flower
every second it scents time like heaven
emptiness of the mind
it is when your mind fills a huge boulder
like a soul, sprawled over the universe
taking in all with solid stoicism
a desire frozen by coldness
harder to break than rock
emptiness of the mind
it is when your mind cast a bigger mystery
than the black hole
so vast and empty you realise the zen of things
that there are things surviving on emptiness,
just being empty
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Im Not Loosing Sleep
Yes, Ive read the morning papers
Telling me that youve made money
Do you think Im gonna crawl, then think again
Though Im dressed in rags, Im richer
Though I eat from tins, Im healthier
Though I live in slums, Im purer than you, my friend
Too bad, Im not losing sleep
[too bad] Im just counting sheep
[too bad] Im not losing sleep, my friend
Look around and see the friends
The ones you left, our friends deserted
See the guys that used to talk and drink with you
Dont look down your nose at me
cause I wont ask your sympathy
I wont be your yes-sir man for anything
Too bad, Im not losing sleep
[too bad] Im just counting sheep
[too bad] Im not losing sleep, my friend
I would walk with you
Talk with you, drink with you
If you drop that halo that youre wearing on the ground
Too bad, Im not losing sleep
[too bad] Im just counting sheep
[too bad] Im not losing sleep, my friend
I cant get my satisfaction
Knowing you wont get reaction
What makes me the big attraction anyway
Its too bad, Im not losing sleep
[too bad] Im just counting sheep
[too bad] Im not losing sleep, my friend
Too bad, Im not losing sleep
[too bad] Im just counting sheep
[too bad] Im not losing sleep, my friend
Oh, its too bad, Im not losing sleep
[too bad] Im just counting sheep
[too bad] Im not losing sleep, my friend
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Not Sleeping
Sleep may come
Sleep may go
Sleep is good
But I'm not
Sleepy enough
To stay in bed
Because my mind
Is not at rest.
Yet it's not going
At full speed
Just a Gentle hum
Thinking of you some.
(4.26.7 Inner Thoughts (PFD))
poem by Heather Z. Hanna
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Full Of Emptiness
Full of emptiness
Broken promises
And love turned out so sad
The hurt goes on and on
Full of emptiness
Hello loneliness
Good friends will mind
The sands of time
Have slipped through my hands
From the bottom to the top
Why he had me feeling fine
Then I took a long long drop
When he walked out of my life
My world
Full of emptiness
That and something less
And memories of him
Have never seemed to be
song performed by by Donna Summer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Allegiances
It is time for all the heroes to go home
if they have any, time for all of us common ones
to locate ourselves by the real things
we live by.
Far to the north, or indeed in any direction,
strange mountains and creatures have always lurked-
elves, goblins, trolls, and spiders:-we
encounter them in dread and wonder,
But once we have tasted far streams, touched the gold,
found some limit beyond the waterfall,
a season changes, and we come back, changed
but safe, quiet, grateful.
Suppose an insane wind holds all the hills
while strange beliefs whine at the traveler's ears,
we ordinary beings can cling to the earth and love
where we are, sturdy for common things.
poem by William Stafford
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What It Is Really?
somewhere our words take us
beyond
somehow we write because we
must rise
some build ships
some of us have to create an ocean to make these ships sail
some of us must know each feather to make us wings
some of us must assure that we too can fly
for we are part of this lonely planet looking for a cure
of humanity's universal sickness
this emptiness that no one feels
if i must, if need be, we too have to create God to create us
it is said He created us in His own image
and we who are lonely and fearful must accept and simply believe
we pay nothing for this
we only have an imagination
some of us has to settle in that bottom of faith
some floors must hold us as we float in space and need to land
we create floors we recreate the meaning of floating and settling
we are tired and what we need most is this peace
the calmness of everything is our dream
somewhere somehow we are and so we keep on writing
some of us has to imagine that we are at rest
some mock us because we seem to be always in motion
eternity, infinity, this somehow this somewhere
always taking us away from us
somehow somewhere we think we understand
we grope we feel and yet we are unable to hold any
and so we keep on saying and saying and saying
but what it is really? what it is really?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Three Hours After Midnight
I was lying awake trying to stop my mind from thought,
but I was losing the fight, my attention was caught.
Sleep was the last thing my mind had in store for me;
it intended to saturate my thoughts with creativity.
It mixed words and flowing colours in an extraordinary blend,
slowly, at speed, smooth, then textured, the mix had no end.
The flowing beauty made no sense; however, for a second it did,
but the speed of the images made everything appear short lived.
I couldn’t capture or freeze any image and retain it in my mind,
my memory couldn’t cope with the instantaneous designs.
The images became chaotic, as I tried to slow everything down.
I thought I’d succeeded, but it only slowed to turn things around.
I became hot and sweaty, and threw back the covers from my bed,
this mental turmoil was having an effect outside my head.
I had to get up to splash cold water over my eyes and face,
and then I just sat trying to stop my thoughts from taking place.
Eventually, feeling more relaxed I lay down and closed my eyes.
I was in a light blue sky, with soft white clouds passing slowly by.
Peace and calm had come to a turbulent and unpredictable mind,
my thoughts were pleasant and slower, at last, I’d found dream time.
poem by Orlando Belo
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Emptiness Is Both An Illusion And An Irony
emptiness is always an illusion
which carries with it an irony.
when i look at it, as its content shows,
it has nothing
bare hands, opening fingers,
an empty transparent ball, it can
tell your future, it can dig your
past,
thinking that it is spacious, i went
inside it, pierce myself though it
only to find that that are so many
crowding elements in there and they
are choking me and you who is looking
outside it, thinks that nothing is happening
but then the struggle is horrible, quick
and even deadly, so many hang themselves in
empty air, and lose their lives, because
you cannot see the body of breathing,
when you learn to live with it however,
you become full, emptiness is its irony,
its antithesis, for how can you ever be full
if you have never known how to empty yourself?
the face of emptiness is a mist, and you touch
it, you will hold a forest, so many black birds,
myriad exotic orchids, so many blending sounds of
trees screaming, of creeks flowing of waterfalls
cascading that you can relate to the locks of
your hair and the hairs of your armpits,
inside it is too personal to be told, outside it
are so many denials with the faces of the people
that you have loved before, and then you decide
to stay at a distance, you are like a tree
dark as a shadow, counting the hours
when the sun finally fades away.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Trauma Of Time
Time Fades The Smile, Not The Pain.
Time Drains The Water Not The Damage From The Rain.
Time Fades The Tomorrow Not The Yesterday.
Time Fades The Cuts But The Scars Never Go Away.
Time Fades The Sweetness Not All The Things Sour.
Time Fades Those Few Precious Moments But Not The Crippling Hour.
Time Fades The Sun, Not It’s Brutal Remains.
Time Fades The Photographs Not There Stains.
Time Fades The Lessons Not All The Things That I’ve Learned.
Time Puts Out The Fire But Not The Days I Burned.
Time Fades The Colors Not The Glaring White.
Time Fades The Bruises Not The Darkness In The Night.
Time Fades The Happiness Not The Tears.
Time Fades The Triumphs Not The Fears.
Time Fades The Storm Not The Ocean.
Time Fades The Memories Not The Emotion.
Time Fades The Dreams Not The Nightmare.
Time Fades The Hand Not The Times You Weren’t There.
Time Fades The Beauty Not The Gloom.
Time Fades The Doors And Windows Not The Empty Room.
Time Fades The Love Not The Empty Lie.
Time Fades The Hello But Never The Goodbye.
poem by Bridgid Patrick
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