En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Somethings Become Missing....

the first thing in the morning is not a cup of coffee

it is cold as usual
and the heavy rain last night just stops

that must make me survive
but it is as personal as the

armpits

it could even be the bland taste of my
own saliva

keeping myself intact with my own
resources

nothing about cups of coffee and

melting butters
it is the fingers that we press upon

words that we play with our own tongues

hugged by our teeth

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Heavy Rain

the heavy rain makes you stop
and you knock on my door
and i open it, and then we
talk about a lot of things about
us, our family, our lands and
ways of surviving the hardships
of this present day life, i offer
you coffee and cookies and
we talk some more about
the future, politics and economics
and religion and philosophy and
poetry. And then the rain stops.

the conversation ends. You
say thank you.You are leaving
now. You are like the rain.
I am like the door. We are
like the conversations. And
we know when to stop and
where to begin again. It is
the heavy rain. It stopped.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Morning Greeting

good morning, my friend

hope you're fine like the smooth morning rays of the sun
on soft hands caressing the shiny brown skin of my face

did you sleep well last night? let me ask if you have dreams
that make waking up a regretful event

i am out now for my usual walk to see the usual rising of the sun
on the golden ricefields on the road leading to a group of nipa huts

i am asking myself today: is there meaning to this usualness
this routine that comes to us without any break?
is there something new to the sun that we always expect to shine?
is there a twist to the usual chirps of birds, the usual white color of their wings? is there something better to do than walk and think the usual
thoughts of how to make a living and be the fit person to survive

this war on boredome
this struggle for meaning
this monotonous routine of this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that and this and that

there is no stuttering here, nothing symptomatic of sickness
and even death, there is this boredom again that will make us

not sleep the nights
and make us uneasy and restless and asking some more

what is this life? what is it giving me?
what am i giving it? how long?

just asking, i am returning to the house from this short walk
there is no music in my ears
more questions popping

i will just take tea
i need really to pee.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Rain To Remember!

Rain lashed out with lightning and thunder!
For every lightning phone also rang without fail!
It continued till I switched off light and went to bed!

Next day morning some death news due to lightning came!
Storm has dissipated but rain lashed now and then;
It's raining time nothing can stop it from falling!

Today there is complete silence prevailing!
Night is cold and wind has stopped after evening
Yet rain warning is given and is expected for 24 hours!

The summer drought without rain is causing so heavy rain now!
Farming fields without rain crops are waiting for rain
A week's rain at least will make it okay now!

When there is no rain we cry for it and when it is there we don't want
Whether we say this or that rain will do the best it can when it comes!

poem by Ramesh T A
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Retrace

in Dumaguete
at 4 o'clock in the morning
you went out of the ship to take a walk along
the boulevard: an old one
with a story to tell
the one that you like to hear
again and again

this time
the heavy rains intervened
forgivable as it is the first heavy rain in the city
for the past five months

people stand along the side
of the covered pathway
watching
the rain

you sit on one of those benches
where breakfast is served
cheap

fish and rice and coffee
the roof leaks
and drops of rain begins to hit
your shoulder

a man beside you
with some tattoo on his arms
looks at you like you are the man whom
he had been searching
all the years of his life

you stare back
sort of saying
you are not afraid
for this encounter

he looks away knowing that you also know
what betrayal is
what a war is
what killing fields are

he sidesteps your gaze
unzips his fly
and urinates pointing to the heavy rain

this is pure disrespect to the rain
you stop eating
brace the rain beyond the roof
bathes there
and walks away from there

this world is not absurd
it is logical
it knows when to stop and to begin again
when to stare back
when to back off and when to retrace its steps
along the boulevard

now the stories are becoming clear
and then the rain stops
you remember that was the song
precisely the lyrics are intact

but what for? you ask again
over and over again

you are so foolish.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Solitaries...

no one stops you
from being solitary.

no one stops you
from being you as

you never stop them
also from being them

solitary posts along
the boulevard after

a heavy rage of the
early morning rain

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Coffee!

Coffee beans all ground up,
Coffee in my favourite cup,
Coffee black, coffee white,
Coffee dark, coffee light,
Coffee right, to start the day,
Coffee at work, coffee at play,
Coffee midday, coffee at night,
Coffee to sober, coffee to excite,
Coffee weak, coffee strong,
But maybe instead some Lapsang Souchong! ! ! !
TEA! ! ! ! !

poem by Ernestine Northover
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Four Seasons In One Day

Yesterday it was twenty degrees or so
And this morning it feels cold enough to snow
But Melbourne weather known to be that way
The place you get four Seasons in one day.

In mid morning a heavy shower of rain
And then the warming sun shine out again
And later on the wind blow to a gale
Accompanied by heavy showers of hail.

And quick as the hail storm came it then subside
This Melbourne weather like Jekyll and Hyde
The morning fine could make a sunny day
But will it rain? how can one ever say.

In Melbourne in the early days of Spring
As weather goes you expect anything
The morning fine but take your hat and coat
As four seasons in one day it has been wrote.

poem by Francis Duggan
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This night is not too cold

This night is not too cold
This morning is not frozen as usual
Without you
It’s time to wake up form long winter sleep
Wind blows late crystal snows
Shine the sun on horizon
Spring coming
This night is not too cold
Really, this night is not too cold

poem by Maria Sudibyo
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When I Wake This Morning

last night i had
a single pill of 'x'
you know what
it is
do not make any
pretensions
it did not obstruct
a word
it slipped right though
smooth and easy
and then
the usual things happen
i am into this garden
they call Eden
and there is this Eve
and the apple
and of course the snake
i still doubt whether
i was God or
i was simply
the sinful Adam

when i wake up this
morning
my body was as heavy
as the Titanic
which as you well know
sank.
my mouth is sewed
with invisible thread
and i can feel
the pain in my lips
my teeth are imprisoned
soldiers
i want to eat some of
my words for
breakfast
but i cannot.

you see? this happens
sometimes
and so what we can do
is simply sit on one
of the chairs drenched
by last night's rain
at the porch
and just be silent.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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(Blue Collar Poem) A Working Man

A working man does all he can
Just trying to make a living
To provide and survive
Till the next day comes by
Or he dies
Which ever comes first
For better or worst
rain or shine

Pay the bills
Feed and cloth the kids
Get in a fight with the wife
And hope she forgives

A working man does all he can
Just trying to make a living
To provide and survive
Till the next day comes by
Or he dies
Which ever comes first
For better or worse
Rain or shine

Go to the park
A day off
You feel so lost
How much will this cost

A working man does the best he can
Just trying to make a living
To provide and survive
Till the next day comes by
Or he dies
Which ever comes first
For better or worse
Rain or shine

Driving so fast
Your late
Hoping you don't get fired
Down to the wire

A working man does all he can
Just trying to make a living
To provide and survive
Till the next day comes by
Or he dies
Which ever comes first
For better or worse
Rain or shine

Another fight
Give her some roses
Say your sorry, and mean it.
Next thing you know
Your both removing all your cloths

A working man does all he can
Just trying to make a living
To provide and survive
Till the next day comes by
Or he dies
Which ever comes first
For better or worse
Rain or shine

Its still mine till the day I die

poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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The Heavy Rains....

the heavy rains come too
like the usual path of the season
but look
the yellow daisies keep their stalks strong
and tall
and not one is destroyed beside the
sunflowers always hoping for the
sun to come
as usual too like the paths of the seasons
and there you are
all wet taking the bath that you need
under the rain
and sky
wading through the vast air
with dew on your hair
with tongue licking the bland taste of
the rain
on your lips.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Survival Shake

This is no story its the key of existence
A little thing you better not forget
I dont know nothing bout its a water-resistance
Why dont you use your head
And survive, survive, survive
You got to survive
Survive, survive, survive
You got to survive
So tell me darling what you wanna be
A welcome idiot in an appletree
I shake you up and I shake you down
Down to the ground
To survive, survive, survive
You got to survive
Survive, survive
All you got to do is to survive
You just got one life
All you got to do is to survive
You just got one life
So better be careful boy
Survive, survive, survive...

song performed by by Fury In The Slaughterhouse
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Coffee Break

I drink milky coffee
cos' I don't like it black.
It ain't because I'm weird
or stuff or anything like that.
I just like milky coffee
but when I asked for it
no one understood me
although I gasped for it.

I went into this burger bar
and asked the guy to make one.
He looked at me quite vacant
and asked me to explain one.
I said you tip some coffee out
and put a dropp more milk in,
but he just stood there gapin'
and said he couldn't do it!

I really hate hot coffee
and I ain't gonna lie
I'd rather eat asbestos
than let my poor tongue fry.
So now I'm drinkin' fruit juice,
to make like I'm discernin'.
They serve it at posh restaurants.
It stops my stomach churnin'.

poem by Ruth Walters
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Do Not Tell Me That There Is Something Poetic About The Rain Today

shoo.

please honey,
do not tell me
that there is something poetic
about the rain today

it is heavy.
cats and dogs.
and hotdogs
and syrup pancakes and
cold coffee,

gosh.

i am engrossed with the law.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Picture of Confidence

In Bermuda
shorts on a cold morning
he wheeled his shopping cart,
a little recklessly,
up to the side
door of the cafe',

pulled out a stainless
steel, covered mug
and splashed the steaming, old
coffee into the gutter,

then came in for a refill.
Long, straight hair shining,
a smile lit his face
as if all of us
warm, secure people
should envy him.

He came out of nowhere,
got his coffee,
and was gone
with the cart,

humming into the cold
morning air.

poem by Max Reif
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Waking Up Too Early One Morning

when i wake up today
too early this morning
when the cocks still crow
and the lizards still make the usual sound
as though saying
this world is okay yet my heart still
beats this ticking clock of
pain longing for love this thing that until now
i do not really understand
we had sex last night and we slept
and had our own sweet dreams
in fantasy land

there is still this emptiness that carries me back to you
and i ask: Who are you? Are you God?
Is it you?

There is this loneliness despite
the sunshine and the little rain of hope
that trickles like a caress of thin air
so cool in the garden out there

There is this doubt about the source of the voices
from within
this conscience which has a mouth and knows
how to speak the language
of truth

Have i forgotten you? Have you forgotten me?
Such questions
shall be my breakfast for this morning.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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In the Storm's Eye

Don't go. There's still some coffee left,
And, look, it seems about to rain,
And have you read this morning's
Headlines? Darkness of a deeper
Kind has fallen on so many places,
War and hatred, hunger, death,
Yet, here, for now, a ray of light
Has warmed this messy little
Room. Not of the sun (recall
The rain) , the ray is yours.
You've made me happy.
Let me have your mug.
I'll get you coffee.
Do not go.

poem by Lawrence Beck
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Happiness

So early it's still almost dark out.
I'm near the window with coffee,
and the usual early morning stuff
that passes for thought.

When I see the boy and his friend
walking up the road
to deliver the newspaper.

They wear caps and sweaters,
and one boy has a bag over his shoulder.
They are so happy
they aren't saying anything, these boys.

I think if they could, they would take
each other's arm.
It's early in the morning,
and they are doing this thing together.

They come on, slowly.
The sky is taking on light,
though the moon still hangs pale over the water.

Such beauty that for a minute
death and ambition, even love,
doesn't enter into this.

Happiness. It comes on
unexpectedly. And goes beyond, really,
any early morning talk about it.

poem by Raymond Clevie Carver
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Heavy Cloud No Rain

Turned on the weather man just after the news
I needed sweet rain to wash away my blues
He looked at the chart but he look in vain
Heavy cloud but no rain
Back in time with louis xvi
At the court of the people he was number one
Hed be the bluest blood theyd ever seen
When the king said hi to the guillotine
The royal astrologer was run out of breath
He thought that maybe the rain would postpone his death
He look in sky but he look in vain
Heavy cloud but no rain
Well the land was cracking and the river was dry
All the crops were dying when they ought to be high
So to save his farm from the bankers draft
The farmer took out a book on some old witchcraft
He made a spell and a potion on a midsummers night
He killed a brindled calf in the pale moonlight
He prayed to the sky but he prayed in vain
Heavy cloud but no rain
Heavy cloud but no rain
The sun wont shine till the clouds are gone
The clouds wont go till their work is done
And every morning youll hear me pray
If only it would rain today
I asked my baby if thered be some way
She said shed save her love for a rainy day
I look in the sky but I look in vain
Heavy cloud but no rain

song performed by by Sting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Bitter Coffee... A Sweet Coffee

The age is running and I am still drinking my bitter coffee,
To when the story of this coffee belongs? !
Coffee and chocolate are so deferent in their tastes
But in several times
It happens that they have the same color.
It seems that the similarity of them is the same of features of the fortune reader.
When she gazes the cup of the coffee
But I am not so familiar with chocolate
Even I am not familiar with the talisman countenances of the hex.
I remember that once I asked him to give me a bitter coffee
Yet he has made a permanent bitter one
Each time he brings me the same coffee in the same cup
A question c0mes to my mind and I ask it to myself:
If we do not like the coffee, why we do drink it?
Do you think it is our destiny as my birth story?
I was born without my desire
Thus with each sip of the coffee
The destiny stops me not to tear the chocolate cover
to sweeten my coffee.

poem by Chnar Namq
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