The Black Bird On The Cable Wire
there is this one
bird on the
cable
wire
connecting two distant
posts
behind is the sun rising like a cape of so much light
below are the green fields of rice
in rectangles
it is the first day of October
and not so cold yet
the path that i am taking stretches
kilometers
tall grasses in random lines are here
beside me.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Back To The Usual Walk In The Rice Fields
i am back to this place
and i am feeling strange
there are changes
and some i can tell have been missing
a few meters from where i stand
under this mahogany tree
where the wind is cold and fresh
flavored by the newly cut rice stalks
over this spread of golden fields
the well is still there
but the brown woman with earth skin is gone
an island of coconut trees
(and some mango trees
and banana shrubs)
has turned bald
and the grasses claim another territory to its grassland
the sparrows must have migrated to the nearby forest
the cable lines run an empty length of a sigh
from one pole to another
endlessly clinging is this anonymous electricity
the twenty or so white herons are here again
pecking on some little frogs in small ponds
i walk under the sun
revisiting reevaluating rekindling perhaps
the reasons why i must go on living
a life unlived for quite a time
why are the fields empty? why are the blackbirds circling the tree?
why do people pass by this path unable to know the significance
of this human journey?
the sun is up like an absurdity triumphant
a dog comes near me
it is waggling its tail and i am calling him another name.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Rectangles
Many a day she played with my rectangles.
Wishing to pick them up,
And lay them upon her breasts.
She said they supplied her with energy.
To me they were perfect angles...
I made into rectangles.
Many a day she played with my rectangles.
And asked if I would make her a few.
They weren't made out of plastic,
Or of anything that would last.
They were just rectangles I drew on paper...
Whenever I was bored,
And wishing for her ass to grasp!
I told her that!
And she would laugh and laugh.
They were just rectangles.
And before she touched them...
They were headed for the trash!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Ploughing Time
What is the matter with the landscape?
Familiar landmarks are not there.
Ploughed fields, like squares upon a chessboard,
Today are scattered everywhere.
The newly-harrowed vast expanses
So evenly are spread about,
As though the valley had been spring-cleaned
Or else the mountains flattened out.
And that same day, in one endeavour,
Outside the furrows every tree
Bursts into leaf, light-green and downy,
And stretches skyward, tall and free.
No speck of dust on the new maples,
And colours nowhere are as clean
As is the light-grey of the ploughland
And as the silver-birch's green.
poem by Boris Pasternak
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Her Report
she is now in Malaybalay,45 kilometers from Valencia
where they are taking dinner
with junjun's girlfriend
and soon after the dinner, she will take the car with cousin
and niece back to La Vina, where they will spend the night
she has more news but she will not bring it tonight
it is more private
it is not about junjun's sweet young girl, still studying in the university
and to cope up with the hard times, she sells cosmetic products
for those who are vain
and taking other means of livelihood to live and appear like decent
it is cold, a place higher than the sea levels of two cities
the trees abound, it is green grass all over the place, and the skies
have stars, and the moon is brighter as she looks over the window
to see the rolling hills and the horizon of flashing lights
the glitter of a far city, the hovering of thoughts like birds crowding
on a tree at night, like the whispers of rain from a distant mountain
we are apart, we decided to create some spaces, we must breathe
and i know, what she wants to tell me from Malaybalay, though she
says, she cannot tell it now, the way she phrases her lines i know
she misses me she loves me she wants to be back home the soonest
and i am waiting.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Cable Tv
I used to think my life was so empty
I used to think life was passin me by
Well, I was just about ready
To curl up and die
But then one day I got a visit
From the cable company
Well, they hooked me up and plugged me right in
And now I got cable tv
And now I get to watch the stock report in korean
Midget wrestling on channel three
It costs me fifty bucks a month just to see em
Yeah, but thats all right with me
I got cable tv (cable tv)
Cable tv (cable tv)
Oh, eighty-three channels of ecstasy
I love my cable tv, yeah
I love my cable tv
I got the siamese faith healers network
The news and weather from peru
I got celebrity hockey
The racketball channel too
Bugs bunny direct from atlanta
Mr. wizard is on at five
I got a satellite dish on the trunk of my car
So I can watch mtv while I drive
Im talkin bout real quality programs
The kind you just cant get for free
Now I never wanna leave my apartment
cause theres just so much for me to see
On my cable tv (cable tv)
Cable tv(cable tv)
Well, if you need to find me
You know where Ill be
Watchin my cable tv, yeah
Watchin my cable tv
cause I love my cable tv, yeah
I love my cable tv
My friends are gettin kinda worried
They think Im turning into some kinda freak
Oh, but theyre just jealous cause Ive seen porkys
Twenty-seven times this week
On my cable tv (cable tv)
Cable tv (cable tv)
Yeah, the greatest thing thats ever happened to me
I love my cable tv, yeah
I love my cable tv
Well, I got to have cable tv, yeah
I need my cable tv
Well, I love, I love my cable tv (tv)
Got to have cable tv (tv)
Well, I got to have my cable tv, yeah (tv)
Cant live without my cable tv
Well, I said, got to have some cable tv (tv)
Ive got to have my cable tv
I said cable tv, yeah (tv)
Got to have cable tv
song performed by by Weird Al Yankovic
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
161
On the hour of my death
The rice fields are empty
The grasses wilt in summer
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Hang Wire
Theyre going higher
Wind is whistling on the barbs
Your heads a hammer
Hang wire, hang wire
Hang wire
(meet you at the) hang wire
That man is a liar
The day is like a warm night
Salt rusts the cold line
Hang wire, hang wire
Hang wire
(meet you at the) hang wire
Every morning and every day
Ill bossanova with ya
If there were a fire
Can we scratch beneath this
Hang wire, hang wire
Hang wire
(meet you at the) hang wire?
song performed by by Pixies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Bird On A Wire
Bird on a wire, up there much higher
than the poeple on the ground.
Do you observe all those you see
or stay intent on what you've found?
That sitting on a wire is just a good perch
that provides you a place to rest.
You may be joined by others of your kind
and that can't happen in a nest.
Bird on a wire, such a good flier,
it amazes me how you land.
You travel from wire to wire as if
you are making a stand
saying
'This is my place. Yours is below
and you may look up to me.
You would not trade places. Neither would I
for it's dangerous up here you see.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Weird-Bird
from the wire chirp
on the wire chirp
frantic head
to and fro
to and fro
chirp, chirp, chirp
little bird on a wire
head and beak
to and fro
to and fro
ten times in a second
tail up, tail down, tail up, tail down
the tight feathered bodice
doing a twist
legs angled tight on tiny wire
a tightrope walker
chirp, chirp, chirp
looking for some fun
looking for a companion to share its day
chirp, chirp, chirp
inspired by
Weird-Bird
Birds are flyin' south for winter.
Here's the Weird-Bird headin' north,
Wings a-flappin', beak a-chatterin',
Cold head bobbin' back 'n' forth.
He says, 'It's not that I like ice
Or freezin' winds and snowy ground.
It's just sometimes it's kind of nice
To be the only bird in town.'
Shel Silverstein
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Signals
No sooner
Light changes color
Why do you take off?
Red light awaits ahead
Why such a hurry?
Green light's signal to go
Red light's signal to stop
To control man's movement
A light stands at every step
Look ahead and drive
It's dangerous otherwise
Harm awaits
At every intersection.
On the road
All the way
Many lines we see
Solid and dashed
White and yellow
And lo behold
Signs and numbers
That set the limits.
Colors of lights
Stretches of lines
Symbols and numbers
Our creations
Are all there
To guide us
For our own safety
Observe we must
Signals they send
And to follow them
Is our duty.
poem by Tirupathi Chandrupatla
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
In The Rainy
In the rainy, in my village
It`s good to see
Green grasses around,
Corn fields looking green
With rice plants growing
Vegetable plants are with flowers and fruits,
In morning and evening
Dew on grass, on leaves
Looks like....
Clouds sail,
Cover the blue sky
But when it rains
Changes everything,
Thatch roofs as waterfalls
Let the water fall down
Making some sound.
Dragon-flies move here and there,
Sit on a grass
And challenge one to capture
But when a hand moves
It flies far and again
Sits there to joke.
poem by Satyabrata Barik
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Rat 6
do you remember
rice fields? try imagining
the green rice fields,
put some hills
more hills, and put a gap
between two hills,
and put the sun
shining brightly
and then put some black
buffaloes grazing at the
foot of the hills,
and then on the left side
try putting a nipa hut
a window and a little girl
looking out for sparrows
and on the right side
put the running river and
a jumping fish
do you still think that this
could be your home?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
April Drifts
April drifts are far away
October spins a tale tall
August just passed on its way
Watching September in deep thought of lost fall
October spins a tale tall
As if it always had a say!
To top the best of its recall
Perhaps it was its multifaceted way! !
August just passed on its way.....
Tall and stubborn as ever as if to flay!
All who dared to disobey!
Taking nature through wild winds that fray!
Watching September in deep thought of lost fall
Made me stop and talk to all
Trying to as much as I could recall
Of the facts stored away of the turmoil....
April drifts are far away
October spins a tale tall!
poem by Malini Kadir
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Deserted Fields
seldom do you find this place
tall grasses on the fields
white herons feeding
upon the green frogs gallivanting
on the muddy pools
bluer skies fresh air
trees nested by sparrows
trails of men
there are no houses here
flowers on the pavement bloom
nobody comes here anymore
most of them have left for good for the city
where work is available
where money can be harvested
like fruits from concrete trees
from cemented fields
under the flicker of neon lights
from unfriendly people
i am here, at home, with all my silence.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
We Are All The Snow Men
WE ARE ALL THE SNOW MEN
(Homage to Wallace Stevens)
We are all the snow men
Minor would- be Poets
Listening in the distant glitter
To the poem someone else has written
Far better than us.
We are all the quiet readers
Connecting our eyes and ears with images
Finer than those
We can ourselves fantasize:
The ‘junipers shagged with ice’
And ‘the spruces rough in the distant glitter’
We are all minor makers of our own nothingness
Beside the Great Poets who find a music of the soul
We seek and strive for and never find.
We are all the lesser snow men
Out in the cold of our own small minds
Shivering to death in the unending winter
of our own frosted souls
While the great long-lines rise up in flight
And go by
Beyond ‘ambiguous undulations’
A fierce parting light
Our bare selves
strain to surmise and survive.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Ode To The Green Grass Of Summer
green green grass
spreading slowly on the path
of my feet
treaded upon
such green beauty
covering once
this dust, this mud,
this plain expanse
of ugliness
i sing the song
of green green grasess
spreading thinly on
the pavement
grasshoppers
and ants and some worms
yes, the green green grasses
are still their home
patches of earth
from far
you may see
this stitches
of moss
a landscape
of this earth
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
How Green Really is My Valley
She is standing behind the broken bamboo gate,
Incongruously framed, a row tall green flowers,
Perceived with bleak eyes through twisted wire fence.
How green really is my valley.
Breezy lime green of short grass,
Swaying bamboo playing fiddle for me-
Olive green ornament baffle us all,
Sliver streaks of light illuminate-
I lost my imagination in embellishment of past glory.
Slaughter woods speaks to us a lot,
The pain of pure air amidst defilement-
My children may see as green monument.
poem by Sakkthi Subramaniyam
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Splendor Of The Days
Sweet and shrill the crickets hiding in the grasses brown and lean
Pipe their gladness-sweeter, shriller-one would think the world was green.
O the haze is on the hilltops, and the haze is on the lake!
See it fleeing through the valley with the bold wind in its wake!
Mark the warm October haze!
Mark the splendor of the days!
And the mingling of the crimson with the sombre brown and grays!
See the bare hills turn their furrows to the shine and to the glow;
If you listen you can hear it, hear a murmur soft and low-
'We are naked,' so the fields say, 'stripped of all our golden dress.'
'Heed it not,' October answers, 'for I love ye none the less.
Share my beauty and my cheer
While we rest together here,
In these sun-filled days of languor, in these late days of the year.'
All the splendor of the summer, all the springtime's light and grace,
All the riches of the harvest, crown her head and light her face;
And the wind goes sighing, sighing, as if loath to let her pass,
While the crickets sing exultant in the lean and withered grass.
O the warm October haze!
O the splendor of the days!
O the mingling of the crimson with the sombre brown and grays!
poem by Jean Blewett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Old Nipa Hut In Shambles...
in the middle of the rice field
after the harvest
March, wet days, the nipa hut
stands alone
the grasses have grown tall
no one arrives neither someone leaves
abandoned, the heart sometimes
cannot anymore remember
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!