The Birds Are Returning Home
some birds who migrated last season
to places that i do not really know
come back to the yard of the house
with a new song as i feed them again
with the same rice grains and same
bland water from the old well.
and then i remember home, the family,
a brother, a foe, and my best friend.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
Maya
little brown birds with grey beaks and a patch of black
on their heads
three of them
drinking water on a pond of water created
by the little rain this morning
as i go near them
they all look at me and then in a sudden
they all fly away leaving some ripples in the
muddled pond
i never think of them as my enemies
they all leave at once
i do not have a gun
or a club or a slingshot
what i have in my hands are rice grains, nothing but rice grains
yes, rice grains for all of them
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Patience, Patience
the child with a black coat
on this cold day
sits there beside a brick
church of spanish
architecture
the yard is quiet except
for the sound of the flapping
of doves feedind on some
rice grains
the boy has a black hair
and his feet are stained with
mud his fingers dirty with
some sticky sauce
he spreads the rice grains
from his palm to the
muddy grounds
the doves hover and land
on the spot where the grains
are freely spread
he sits with them
surrounded
the doves are watching him
and he watches carefully each
dove that eyes on his grains
he likes to snatch just one
to bring home to mother
the doves are too careful
it is just the rice grains nothing more
eye to eye
both wait for what shall happen next
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Remember The Day.
[remember the day]
when fighting meant your little brother not sharing his cookie?
[remember the day]
when loving someone was as simple as a good hello?
[remember the day]
when war meant playing with squirt guns in the back yard?
[remember the day]
when a tree house could be an escape from reality?
[remember the day]
When pain meant a simple paper cut?
[remember the day]
Because now that day is gone.
poem by Ray Bambara
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Amen, Amen...
for the few grains of rice that i have given you
and for the slice of fish,
God has given me more than what
i have parted,
God has given me a house, a rice granary,
a thousand loaves of bread,
an ocean of fish
plus a book of poems,
plus the nightingale songs
My heart sings praises for Him.
For every grain of rice that i have shared with a hungry neighbor,
God has replenished me with truckloads.
FOR THE FEW cents that i have given as fare for the old woman
who wishes to go home,
God has repaid me money in bundles.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Merry Christmas, Alabama (Never Far From Home)
(jimmy buffett & matt betton)
Merry christmas, alabama
Merry christmas, tennessee
Merry christmas, louisiana
To st. barths and the florida keys
Merry christmas, mississippi
Where I started this wild and crazy run
Such a long way from that first birthday
Merry christmas, everyone
And merry christmas, colorado
Though far from you all I have roamed
tis the season to remember
All the faces,
And the places that were home
tis the season to remember
And to count up all the ports of call Ive known
And to thank his mercies tender
For Im never far from home
(instrumental)
Merry christmas to my saints and guardian angels
Who protect me as I roam
tis the season to remember
All the faces
And the places that were home
Guess my lifes moved at near light speed
Since I started this wild and crazy run
Such a long way from that first birthday
Merry christmas, everyone
tis the season to remember
No were never far from home
Merry christmas, everyone.
song performed by by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Merry Christmas, Alabama
(jimmy buffett & matt betton)
Merry christmas, alabama
Merry christmas, tennessee
Merry christmas, louisiana
To st. barths and the florida keys
Merry christmas, mississippi
Where i started this wild and crazy run
Such a long way from that first birthday
Merry christmas, everyone
And merry christmas, colorado
Though far from you all i have roamed
'tis the season to remember
All the faces,
And the places that were home
'tis the season to remember
And to count up all the ports of call i've known
And to thank his mercies tender
For i'm never far from home
(instrumental)
Merry christmas to my saints and guardian angels
Who protect me as i roam
'tis the season to remember
All the faces
And the places that were home
Guess my life's moved at near light speed
Since i started this wild and crazy run
Such a long way from that first birthday
Merry christmas, everyone
'tis the season to remember
No we're never far from home
Merry christmas, everyone.
song performed by by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Unending Journey Does Not Know A Home
to the heart there is never a blank wall
the fences do not work
they always fail, the bulls of Manawan
are at it again, breaking free from the ranch
and going back to the Mountain
just as the sparrows that by chance entered
your room through an open window
though there were rice grains on that tray
soon shall fly away after every grain is consumed
the beasts and birds unlike you do not have a house
neither do they know of any home
so tell me, how can you understand a vagabond
mind like mine?
the bulls always want to break free
the birds migrate to distant lands
the whales inhabit no permanent ocean
every path is a passage
and if there are stops, they are just temporary resting stations
after a while
the journey takes everyone on their feet, their fins and wings
again....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Early Morning Happiness....
this morning
i wake up early
i see this hen
and her sixteen chicks
roosting
upon a strong branch
of the narra tree
i get a handful of
rice grains
and scatter them on
the ground
the chickens fly down
from the tree
and feed on
the scattered grains
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Request To The Dead
I offer this water to you,
my father, grandfather and great grandfather,
and to you, soldiers and generals
who fought for us and who fought against us
and who were killed by this war.
I stand here, on this battlefield,
and give this water and this rice to you—
you must be hungry and thirsty.
Ask for nothing
other than water and rice,
don't add to the long list
of things I was not able to give;
be content with this water and this rice
and return
to wherever you came from.
Consider this: the years
I have spent with you were many;
and this: it will not be long
before I join you wherever you sojourn.
Had I possessed things
other than this water and this rice,
would I have denied them to you
and asked you to return ?
Whatever I have
other than this water and this rice
are surely not appropriate offerings
for departed souls.
True, I traverse everyday of my life
with this baggage of witheld things,
but whenever I look at them
I disintegrate and cry out
with a voice that rends
the heavens
and the underworld.
Tears fill my eyes
when I make this offering
of water and rice.
I know, when my turn comes,
I shall have neither.
Look, the sun has almost set.
Now, go back to wherever you came from
with the little water and the little rice I gave you.
Look, I myself do not have
either any water or any rice.
Look, I have nothing except the few things
I didn't give
and kept with myself.
[Translated by the poet]
poem by Ramakanta Rath
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Friends Vs. Family
Sometimes I feel out of place
Like when my family is talking and I just can't relate
I feel like they just want me to go away
Sometimes I feel like I'm being crushed
When they look down on me
Like I never do enough
Sometimes I feel like an adopted son
To the mothers of
The friends I've always loved
Sometimes I go hungry
To feed a selfish little brother
Who never thanks me
Sometimes when I'm all alone
I think of all the places
I used to call home
Sometimes when I don't belong
My friends make me feel alright
They are my back bone from now on
poem by Christian Rivera
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Back Home
Yeah yeah yeah
Well Im going back this summer to ohio
Im gonna seek out all my friends Ive always known
Im goin back to that farm that I remember
Well Im goin to spend this summer back home
Back home (back home, back home, back home)
Ill spend my summer (back home)
Back home (back home)
Back home (back home, back home, back home)
Ill spend my summer (back home)
Back home (back home)
Im gonna get up every morning before the roosters
Ill run downstairs fix my breakfast all alone
Ill milk those cows feed the chickens and the horses
Well Im gonna spend this summer back home
Back home (back home, back home, back home)
Ill spend my summer (back home)
Back home (back home)
Back home (back home, back home, back home)
Ill spend my summer (back home)
Back home (back home)
Ill eat everything that ma puts on the table
When I get back you wont believe how Ive grown
Ill hit the sack early everynight thinkin bout tomorrow whoa oh
Well Im gonna spend this summer back home
Back home, back home, back home
Back home (back home, back home, back home)
Ill spend my summer (back home)
Thats what Im gonna do thats where Im gonna be, thats this summer
Back home (back home)
Back home (back home, back home, back home)
Ill spend my summer (back home)
Gonna get up, gonna get up, gonna get up every morning
Back home (back home)
Back home (back home, back home, back home)
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
Ill spend my summer (back home)
Hey woo feels okay back home
Back home (back home)
Back home (back home, back home, back home)
Ill spend my summer (back home)
Back home
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Dead Feast of the Kol-Folk
We have opened the door,
Once, twice, thrice!
We have swept the floor,
We have boiled the rice.
Come hither, come hither!
Come from the far lands,
Come from the star lands,
Come as before!
We lived long together,
We loved one another;
Come back to our life.
Come father, come mother,
Come sister and brother,
Child, husband, and wife,
For you we are sighing.
Come take your old places,
Come look in our faces,
The dead on the dying,
Come home!
We have opened the door,
Once, twice, thrice!
We have kindled the coals,
And we boil the rice
For the feast of souls.
Come hither, come hither!
Think not we fear you,
Whose hearts are so near you.
Come tenderly thought on,
Come all unforgotten,
Come from the shadow-lands,
From the dim meadow-lands
Where the pale grasses bend
Low to our sighing.
Come father, come mother,
Come sister and brother,
Come husband and friend,
The dead to the dying,
Come home!
We have opened the door
You entered so oft;
For the feast of souls
We have kindled the coals,
And we boil the rice soft.
Come you who are dearest
To us who are nearest,
Come hither, come hither,
From out the wild weather;
The storm clouds are flying,
The peepul is sighing;
Come in from the rain.
Come father, come mother,
Come sister and brother,
Come husband and lover,
Beneath our roof-cover.
Look on us again,
The dead on the dying,
Come home!
We have opened the door!
For the feast of souls
We have kindled the coals
We may kindle no more!
Snake, fever, and famine,
The curse of the Brahmin,
The sun and the dew,
They burn us, they bite us,
They waste us and smite us;
Our days are but few
In strange lands far yonder
To wonder and wander
We hasten to you.
List then to our sighing,
While yet we are here
Nor seeing nor hearing,
We wait without fearing,
To feel you draw near.
O dead, to the dying
Come home!
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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A Lonely Bird On The Electric Wire
this afternoon i take a walk leading to the farm
it is harvest time
and i see the harvesters cutting the rice stalks filled with golden grains
they would group what they gather at a certain place
mounds and mounds of rice grains this time of a bumper year
on the other side are carabaos grazing
lots of grass to graze adding the recently cut rice stalks
i look at the clouds white and blue and shades of both
my attention is however caught by a single bird perched on the electrical wire connecting two poles about 30 meters apart
it is alone there
and i move closely to see whether it is really a bird
indeed it is one of the sparrows in the ricefield
but so unlike the rest it
it is sitting there alone.
our eyes met.
and i tell my wife about this lonely bird.
she says i am just making a metaphor
i sit alone in my garden now after dining
and i wonder if the bird flew back to its nest or to some territory of its own
where their species also live
and i wonder if the bird must be also telling the other birds that it saw
a man walking alone on that path leading to the farm
and unlike other men he prefers to walk alone
and i also think that perhaps the bird would also take issue about the fact that indeed
our eyes met
and i know the other birds would say
that it is nothing but also a sort of metaphor and to the least that
it is nothing but a kind of fable.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Way Back Then
Night is falling
Were doing the things we do
You are acting just like me
Im acting just like you
Do you remember
When you were my friend?
Thats the way Id like things
Just like way back then
Babys sleeping
Brother is on the run
I am out undoing
All the good Ive done
If you loved me
Tell you what I would do
Wrap the world in silver foil
Bring it home to you.
Lately I feel
That I cant pretend
I may never ever see
The likes of you again
I take a walk, I come back home
Then I sit a spell
Watch the ponies dance around
The empty wishing well.
Night has fallen
Ive said the things I did
The only baby sleeping
Is when I was a kid
Do you remember
When you were my friend?
Thats the way Id like things
Just like way back then.
song performed by by John Prine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Special Family Memories
I have special family memories
Of when I was just a child
My family did things together
More often than once in awhile
We would go to church together
Then afterward a Sunday drive
With roast beef and mashed potatoes
When back home we’d later arrive
We’d to go the movies on occasion
My mom, dad, brother and me
I remember especially seeing Bambi
Although that was sad for me to see
But family is so important
It creates a special bond
I have many family memories
Of which I’m so terribly fond!
poem by Marilyn Lott
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I Had a Little Brother Once
Had a little brother once
Died at six months old
Tears fell but all was not well
With family at home
Barely remember
His face his smile
I was only five years old
When angels took him away
Mum cried for days
Dad yelled and screamed
Why was he taken away?
I could neither cry
Or shout out why
To young to understand
Just merely watched
The heartache and pain
As we grieved
With each passing day
Soft brown eyes
Gentle soul
That's all I could remember
Of my little brother
Another lost young soul
I sit and ponder
What would he be like?
To discover this land
If he was still here
At home were he belonged
All misty eyed
I start to cry
And wish you were here
Besides your family
And your friends
poem by Kaila George
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Family Homes
everybody's mother is beautiful and brave
but my mother was little bit different
And was at the top of them
she was the bravest...the most beautiful..and the cleverest
we lived in a house
a very very ancient an and old house
ı ts plaster worn out and falling down
once a big and beautiful of our nomad ancestors
the camels of the long caravans used to rest in its garden
now the rooms of the house is rented to families in poverty
the kitchen...and laundry and washing were common for all
there was a in wall cupboard for bath in every room
in one of this rooms upstairs we lived
my mother..my brother and me
hiring it
they called these rooms faqmiliy homes
in turkish
in our homeland in turkey
in one of these rooms
lived shoe maker...rather a cobbler
with his son..daughter and wife
they were our beloved neighbours
he own the the room from his ancestors
the cobbler loved hunting
and had a peculı ar political opinion of his own
at downstairs
ther was a workman
came from his village
a very poor family indeed
wherever he found he worked
if he could
my mother used to help the family
she was found of this very very
one day ı heard the family went to germany
for food and living
my brother and me
were attending to a boarding school in istanbul
we used to come to our family home
in summer vacations
we were very happy in yhose days
with our room neighbours
my brother me and my mother
but theese poor happy did not last long
we grew up
my brother an archaeology professor
me a district governor
but we have never forgotten
those family houses
and the friendship and solı darı ty in them
we remember
those family houses from time to time
they are demolished now
high buildings are erected in their places
and my mother gone heaven in 14th dec ember 1994
her grave near a cross road waiting
ı always pray for her
ı feel she is always near me..guarding me
she was the bravest...most beauı tiful and the cleverest
ı have ever seen
life is not an easy plaything
poem by Metin Sahin
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I Have A Friend
I have a friend who cannot walk
I have a friend all he does is talk
I have a friend, Philippe is his name
I have a friend and we are just the same
I have a friend he’s seventeen years old
I have a friend who has a heart of gold
I have a friend who would catch me if I fall
It is only that he has no legs at all
I have a friend and when my friend was seven
A car ran over him and he almost went to heaven
I have a friend with a smile that I adore
I have a friend who lives in a house of four
I have a friend his family is his home
I have a friend who dreams of visiting Rome
I have a friend who is still finishing school
Yet some people tell him that for that he is a fool
I have a friend they say he is disabled
He has no legs and for that he is labeled
I have a friend who has a friend
They were made for each other; their love will never end
I have a friend who likes to name the stars
I have a friend and what he hates is cars
I have a friend who’s happier than you and me
I have a friend who’s shown me how happy I can be
I have a friend who’s had his bad times too
I have a friend who’s better than me and you
I have a friend so dear to me and kind
That another one like him I shall never find!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
From The 'Antigone
Overcome -- O bitter sweetness,
Inhabitant of the soft cheek of a girl --
The rich man and his affairs,
The fat flocks and the fields' fatness,
Mariners, rough harvesters;
Overcome Gods upon Parnassus;
Overcome the Empyrean; hurl
Heaven and Earth out of their places,
That in the Same calamity
Brother and brother, friend and friend,
Family and family,
City and city may contend,
By that great glory driven wild.
Pray I will and sing I must,
And yet I weep -- Oedipus' child
Descends into the loveless dust.
poem by William Butler Yeats
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Early Morning Poetry
a gray cat so gentle
sleeping beside my easy chair
soft wind enters the window
from the far mountain
the white silky curtains
by the window
sway to the direction of the wind
a red rose blooms on the side
of the limestone wall
horse grazing on the grassy plain
a white dog runs toward a wooden gate
a car stops on the yard near the veranda of this old house
a brother from far announces his arrival
hot coffee and pancakes on the table
fumes of white rice and smoke from the grilled fish
faint classical Mozart music plays on the cassette
light from the sun penetrating the screen of the dining window
a black and white family picture on top of the family piano
grandpa on his military uniform as mother carries father on her arms
memories flood the room and words keep creeping like worms
i want to say that there are no termites on this house but that would be a lie.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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