En.Citatepedia^®.ro

The Children Of Silence.

it is the unresolved conflict that will make us all

restless. No one wants a solution.
Solutions can be judgments. Do you react about
something terminal?

what will you do when you wait? Think, Think,
it is tiresome, it makes the body a very useless structure.
It shrinks like a deflated balloon.

it is this restlessness actually that makes us creative.
we thank God for this. Our house is incomplete. Who has a house
without stairs?

When i visit an old place, there is this shock
that the river is gone.Where did the river go?
Again, the hands of man, let it go.

Disappointed. The child stays in the house of his mother forever.
HE has no dreams. His fingers hold upon a needle and a thread
creating once again a heart of silk.

it is the unresolved conflict within us that makes us whole.
we are so restless, we dream of sand and shore and waves and foams.
we travel with the ocean, we drink its depth.

we are the children of silence. We are destined to write.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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River

Here is the river
And I am searching it
In the map that is
On the wall of my house
That is not there.

I do not know
The mountain is in between
The river and my house
That dressedup geography
And taking me from
Place to place.

I am on my own journey
While the sky is breaking
And I with the night dream
Passing passing and passing
The hard days with
Fire of the mountain
And water of the river.

Where is the river
That I am searching
To driveout troubles
Where I am
Here is the river
Wash your face eyes
Somebody is kind enough
To tell in my house.

I am not in my house
See.
And Where am I
And the sea is here
No river no mountain
Here is the river
If you find again
Inform me please
I am grateful then.

poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Something That Flows Away

FINALLY you tell me
you like an empty house
something minimal
all white with no curves
just straight lines

your want is small now
something that makes us close
something that shrinks
to make an intimacy

you want a house just
for the two of us
i am thinking if these thoughts
are a little bit late

my dreams are different
i am thinking of a bird-house
i am thinking of grains
i am thinking of water

something that i can leave
something that i can give
something that flows away

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Dream In A Picture Frame

Everyone has a dream
A dream for tomorrow
A dream for the future
A dream that makes
A life worth living

Sometimes we write
Our dreams to the water
Together with our heart
To be carried away
To the deep wide ocean

Sometimes we bind
Our dreams to the wind
Like a child’s balloon
Striking to the sky above –
Free and gone

Sometimes a dream
Is placed in a box
Locked by another dream
Like a dream in a picture frame…

poem by Alvin Magsino
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Teleman, viola concerto

We were three close
Friends
When we were young
We go to a river
At the back
Of our house
There is a big
Plank of driftwood
And we all ride
On it as though
It were a big
Boat and our
Hands are paddles

We sail
And we laugh
The place
Is off limits
For us children
In fact
Father says
Beware
A big crocodile
Lives there
And swallows
A child in whole

We did not take
Heed
We are the
Hardheaded
Children and this
Something
Traumatic
On that river
At the back of
The house
Where the
Big plank
Of wood which
We ride on
Carried us
All laughing
To the other
Side

Only the two
Of us
Survived
What we heard
Was only a
Splash
And the river
Was staining
The color
Of blood

It was the splash
That swallowed
My hardheaded
Youth.

I remember
This teleman
Viola concerto
A burial
Without a
Dead body
Twas a simple
Floating of
A candle boat
On the river
And then
All the violins
And the viola
Sounded to the
Cry of the mother
Who never
Believed my
Story of a splash.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Avoid conflict

Conflict demolishes
Wealth house
Avoid conflict.
Conflict perishes
Body Soul
Avoid conflict.

poem by Gajanan Mishra
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The House

there is no other place to go
after work
when the darkness of the night
starts to hover
on my roof
this house where i rest my feet
where i put my hands
where i shut my mouth
and you are there
moving from one corner to another
asking where i put some bones
of my body
you sing as you once knew the songs
the ones that i love
that which from where my heart rests
and lulled

this is the house, a mere house
where i put my body
safely
no longer a home
my soul like a little bird had flown somewhere
years ago
i know where it is sleeping
you ask me
but i will not tell you

how will you ever know?
the place
it is so quiet
you are restless and noisy and messy
so loveless
so sad and you keep on laughing taunting
about my loss
my death

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Silent River Part2

Sunday is a holiday
I'do again
I'makes again
The memories of the silent river

I'come again
To remember
I'have ever love and miss
Here in the silent river, silent so silence

The memories of the silent river
I'felt his love again in this river
I'felt his longing again in this river
I'felt his kindly again in this river
And i'see again his softly face in the water
In this silent river, silent so silence

The silent river
Makes me remember
I'miss again
the silent river
Makes me to get so many things
Sitting nearby silent river

Come to me the lonely
Come to me the long yearning
Come to me the tears
Come to me the rain
The silent river keep my memories good

In the silent river, silent so silence
Save me now, from all the dejected
To spin around all back
This silence is geeting on my nerves
Were i'am so afraid
You were to be lost in thought
And all was lost to me
Here in the silent river, silent so silence

poem by Dwi utami
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The house she refers to

She first told me of this house when I was a child
She wrote it in her documents and filed
A house so wild
Where the people are very cold
A house like a wrestling hold
Everyone scrambling for gold
There are murmurs and calls for hate
Which spreads amongst the offspring they procreate
To go and lie in wait
Until they receive orders to fire
At anyone who aims higher
So that they get what they require
She documents a house of takers
Wanting to acquire acres
Which they are not the makers
She documents a house of doom
Where deception is a costume
And aversion is spread from a control room
She documents a house of pain
Where there is nothing to gain
And says to me again and again
Beware and tread with care
For there are fumes of hate in the air
This she makes me aware
She tells me of this house each day
So I would not be lead astray
What then can I say
Before the bee stings
I would pray for certain things
One is for God to carry me on a pair of wings
To fly me on a fast pace
To a new place
Where He would put a smile on my face
A place of joy and peace

poem by Mark Nyamekye Boadi
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Always There Will Be Something To Write

for as long as the grain of sand is in the mouth
of the mother pearl so there will be pearls

it is the pain that makes it
it is the wound that makes the scar
it is the blur that makes the eyes
work hard to see
it is the haze and the mist
that make us stand and wait and carefully see
to find what is there
when the light of the sun finally comes

it is what is inside me
that i cannot just tell you
that makes me write
and for as long as i am muted by your presence
i will always have something to write

for as long as my tongue is tied
and nothing slips from there
i will always write

because there is no other outlet
no vent
for as long as i fear your wrath
i must continue to write

from the bondage of my teeth and tongue
my hands and mind
shall find its way to freedom

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Melancholic....

I have my own dreams
i keep them in my house
and no one sees them

every night i look at all
these dreams of mine
my treasure, my gold
they do not glitter anymore

i have my own rusty dreams
and i keep them inside my house
there they all turn to powder
to dust, to nothing

one night i am tired of all these dreams
put them all inside a box
and throw them all to the sea
and then the sea has all my dreams

now i have my house without dreams
it is an empty house
proud with nothing but myself alone
i am the dream of this house
it's only dream

soon the house shall be gone
soon i shall be too gone

someone shall build another house
another dream......

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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My Dream Home (Amityville Horror House)

Some of you peoples,
will think I'm crazy,
maybe even psycho.
Because, The Amityville Horror House,
is my dream home.

I plan to buy it one day,
so think what you wanna think about me,
I don't care.
I love that home,
it's beautiful.
It's my dream house,
so one day I hope to have,
that house.
The Amityville Horror House.

If that makes me crazy,
or makes me psycho.
Then I guess I am.

poem by Ninja Soul
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Lovesexy

New power, new power, give it 2 me
Oh, it need some bottom in here... lay it on me
(hey now, hey now)
Everybody on the block say it is the best
The most vital is what they say, more or less
It put my name upon my thigh
It makes me dance, it makes me cry
And when I touch it race cars burn rubber in my pants
Chorus:
This feelings so good in every single way
I want it morning, noon and night of every day
And if by chance I can not have it - I cant say
But with it I know heavens just a kiss away
Kiss away
Dig me now
Anyone thats ever touched it,
They dont want anything else (no they dont)
And I got 2 tell the world,
I just cant keep it to myself
All in life becomes easier,
No question is unresolved
And Im not afraid
Come on and touch it, I know u will love it
With it I know that heavens a butterfly kiss away
Chorus
Lovesexy
Lovesexy
Rain is wet, sugar is sweet
Clap your hands, stomp your feet
Everybody, everybody knows (lovesexy)
When love calls, u got 2 go
Lovesexy
Tonight we make love with only words
Girls first, girls first
Ok so like first Ill start by telling u how
Intelligent a curve your behind has
And then I can tell u that I can just smell u
And race cars burn rubber in my pants
But I really dig trippin on the thought of
Being caught by someone with your beauty, style and grace
Baby I dont care I would rip out my hair
4 just 2 nights with your face
I dont want to make love 2 u
I just want 2 look at u
I just want 2 listen 2 u
Oh, pretty little whip, u got me drippin
Drippin all over the floor, the floor
If I come back as a woman, I want a body like yours
A body like yours
Living rooms
I think... I think u would
I think u wanna play house
Yeah, I think u wanna play house
Lovesexy
U dont mind
I think u... uh...
I think u want me to (beep) inside of u
Yea...yeah... i...
U want (lovesexy) me to s...suck around your living room
Ha ha
Yeah, u...u want me to walk right down your halls
Mmm hmmm
Lovesexy
U want me to swivel in your love seat
Dont u baby?
U want me to write my name on your walls
U want me to write my name
Lovesexy
We make love with only words
Ill make love to u, tomorrow
Sweet dreams

song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My new house.......

Oh, my God, this is our new house
A house is made with love and dream
My God, let it should be a place where You can reign
and let us carry all the precious memories while we live here
My God, your love is what makes my house
where everyone can live here with serenity and peace
My God, you have shown us the foundation of life
where my house will be a testimony of what you have done
My God, your love radiates a cycle of love
where its ready to meet every soul demand
My God, bless us all your days
and always keep us and my house in your safe hands

Ravi Sathasivam / Sri Lanka
Copyright @2009 Ravi Sathasivam

poem by Ravi Sathasivam
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Peace and Conflict

Peace is laughter ike a musical bell,
Conflict is people crying,
Peace is everything being well,
Conflit is people dieing,
Peace is a very wonderful thing,
Conflict can be used t pursue peace,
Peace is a sound that makes you sing,
Conflict is the least luxurious thing,
Peace is sought after
And sometimes found,
Confit is punishment,
Paying the price,
Peace is being on safe ground,
Conflict makes people with heart of ice,
Peace you find in your heart,
Conflict tears our minds apart,
So remember these words and you'll live well,
Peace is laughter like a musical bell...

poem by Sasha Julia
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In Michael Robins’s Class Minus One

At the desk where the boy sat, he sees the Chicago River.
It raises its hand.
It asks if metaphor should burn.
He says fire is the basis for all forms of the mouth.
He asks, why did you fill the boy with your going?
I didn't know a boy had been added to me, the river says.
Would you have given him back if you knew?
I think so, the river says, I have so many boys in me,
I'm worn out stroking eyes looking up at the day.
Have you written a poem for us? he asks the river,
and the river reads its poem,
and the other students tell the river
it sounds like a poem the boy would have written,
that they smell the boy's cigarettes
in the poem, they feel his teeth
biting the page.
And the river asks, did this boy dream of horses?
because I suddenly dream of horses, I suddenly dream.
They're in a circle and the river says, I've never understood
round things, why would leaving come back
to itself?
And a girl makes a kiss with her mouth and leans it
against the river, and the kiss flows away
but the river wants it back, the river makes sounds
to go after the kiss.
And they all make sounds for the river to carry to the boy.
And the river promises to never surrender the boy's shape
to the ocean.

poem by Bob Hicok
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No Spill Blood

(what is the law? )
(what is the law? )
Animals came from miles around
So tired of walking so close toe the ground
They needed a chance, thats what they said
Life is better walking on two legs
But they were in for a big surprise
cause they didnt know the law!
Chorus
(what is the law)
No spill blood
What is the law
(no spill blood)
(who makes the rules)
Someone else
Who makes the rules
(someone else)
The rules are written in the stone
Break the rules and you get no bones
All you get is ridicule, laughter
And a trip to the house of pain!
Chorus (in reverse order)
We walk on two legs not on four
To walk on four legs breaks the law
What happens when we break the law?
What happens when the rules arent fair?
We all know here we go from there
To the house of pain!
To the house of pain!
(what is the law)
What is the law
(who makes the rules)
Who makes the rules
We walk on two legs not on four
To the house of pain
To the house of pain
To the house of pain
To the house of pain
To the house of pain
(no spill blood)

song performed by by Oingo Boingo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The House Of The Lord

this is the house of the lord
where people come to pray
the house of the lord
where your problems are washed away

so i enter the doors, and there in plain sight
is my lord jesus
then i know everything is alright.
he makes me choke up with emotions
that i never felt before.
yet i know deep in my heart
it will be there forever more.

he comes into our hearts and makes the gloom disappear
and takes away our worries, and all our foolish fears.
so i give myself to him with every ounce
of strenght, knowing that when i walk out
i'll see a better day, and the joy will
fullfill me in a much better way.

now when i'm lonely and my mind seems to stray
i look at all the homeless children
who try to run away,
with no one to turn to and nowhere
for them to go, they turn to the church
because of the faith that had been bestowed.

this is the things that you find in the
house of the lord.
so i say to you with my head held high
he has the power of that there is no lie.

poem by Louis Rams
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A Secret Find....

you know the secret
of the heart, it is
after all, the heart
itself that tells you,

when we go out of the house
slowly as we caress
the soft spots of our body

we throw away imagination
like a kite in the air
albeit we hold upon a string
of our logical deductions,

when i finally find what i
am looking, i take it gently
inside my pocket
and then i go home to
savor what taste is there,

we know what we find
yet we are not telling each other
about it,

it is a secret,
it is life itself,

we keep this secret throughout life
when by the slip of our tongue
this matter is revealed,

you know the consequence,
the heart knows it,

the house falls down,
the sun closes its eye,
the moon burns itself,
the river dries up
the heart shrinks

someone finds finally
the ash beneath the
innocent child's feet.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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My heart has told your heart

My heart has told your heart,
I have fallen in love with you
My life, my love, trust me
As restless as I am, make yourself restless
Understand my heartbeat, please love me also

My heart has told your heart
I have fallen in love with you
If you say so, I'll tear down the moon and stars
This wind, this earth, I'll turn them back
What sight is in my eyes, what experience is this?
The river is close, the desert is far, why is there still thirst
I'll leave the world at your feet, meet my eyes
As restless as I am, make yourself restless
Understand my heartbeat, please love me also

My heart has told your heart
I have fallen in love with you
In my memories, in my dreams you come everyday
Why do you afflict me this way, my life?
From your heart, from your way I won't leave like that
This is a vow, this is my promise, 'll come back
I'll steal you from the world, just wait a little
As restless as I am, make yourself restless
Understand my heartbeat, please love me also

My heart has told your heart
I have fallen in love with you
My life, my love, trust me
As restless as I am, make yourself restless
Understand my heartbeat, please love me also

poem by Jid Thobhani
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Writing At That Time When You Were Sick...or Dying

when you write
when you are sick and having fever throughout the night
there is no one beside you
there is no electricity, and there is a storm raging on your roof
the house is shaking

you feel that in a short while this house will be blown away
and you just do not know what happens in mid-air

when you write these lines
you hear voices asking for help as though they are buried by the waves
twirled and taken to the bottom of that deep and dark ocean
some bodies
of children and women
some still holding each others' hands
lay dead beside the black corrals and the sea porcupines and urchins

finally, you are carried by this horror
your body shakes in terror like the house shaking its beams and walls in mid-air
you give up the pen
let go off the paper
you give up that consciousness

what you have and what you are now
is air,
strangled like a throat
all breaths finally
sucked
in a vacuum

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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