The Filipino Poem 2
As written by Bimboy a high school student
At St. Vincent’s College in Dipolog City section Einstein:
The sun rises in my little barrio in Olingan
And sits on two hill where our nipa hut lies
The sun is like a handsome face looking
At two hills like the twin plump breasts of a
Beautiful maiden and his sunrays are like
Fingers lovingly caressing them with too much
Warmth the coconuts, yes, the coconuts like nipples
Spread on the hillsides and his tongue licks them
his mouth sucking them these young coconuts
while my papa Leads the carabao to a mudhole to wallow
While my mother takes some hot chilis for viand
My sister is not there on the window she
Eloped with her boyfriend so you can find
Nobody looking out the window of the hut.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
the Filipino Poem 1
As written by Bimboy a grade two pupil in
Olingan elementary school section sampaguita:
The sun comes to my barrio this morning
It peeps between two hills and on the side
Is our nipa hut and on the ricefield my father
Pasturing the carabao while mother cooks the
Mudfish in the kitchen while my sister looks
Out the window and waives at me who is
Holding this pen writing this poem on paper.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Filipino Poem 3
The Filipino poem as written by Bimboy
A college student of the Ateneo de Davao
University taking up BS Chemistry on a
Cocofed scholarship grant:
The sun rises on the two hills in my barrio.
You cannot find Papa and Mama there anymore
They always quarrel over their extramarital affairs
And the nipa hut is just too crowded for the two of them.
My sister had two sons but you cannot find them there
Because they live in another nipa hut on the other
Side of the river while the ricefields are dry and did not
Yield any harvest because of drought and the carabao
Is also not there in that scene because it died, butchered
And sold as meat to the hungry neighborhood.
The sun sets on the hills like a bunsen burner turned off.
The two hills protrude like two empty glass flasks turned upside down.
You cannot find me there I am here still writing this poem.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Vaddafi
Train to pluck the coconuts,
5 to 6 months away from home;
But my friend Vadafi came out with some words,
And like the monkeys plucking coconuts in Thailand!
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The Race Industry
The coconuts have got the jobs.
The race industry is a growth industry.
We despairing, they careering.
We want more peace they want more police.
The Uncle Toms are getting paid.
The race industry is a growth industry.
We say sisters and brothers don't fear.
They will do anything for the Mayor.
The coconuts have got the jobs.
The race industry is a growth industry.
They're looking for victims and poets to rent.
They represent me without my consent.
The Uncle Toms are getting paid.
The race industry is a growth industry.
In suits they dither in fear of anarchy.
They take our sufferings and earn a salary.
Steal our souls and make their documentaries.
Inform daily on our community.
Without Black suffering they'd have no jobs.
Without our dead they'd have no office.
Without our tears they'd have no drink.
If they stopped sucking we could get justice.
The coconuts are getting paid.
Men, women and Brixton are being betrayed.
poem by Benjamin Zephaniah
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A Lonely Child
Carlo Betocci's child
sits on a table and looks at the world
outside through a glass window
the view is too beautiful not to be touched
the high distant mountains
garnished by bluish clouds
and fingers of the sun
caressing the grassy plains
too far and yet too beautiful
the child couldn't help but caress the
glass window with his palms
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Lovely, Lovely, Lovely Memories Too
Lovely 6
On Sundays papa buys some kilos of big crabs
He cooks them and puts shredded coconuts inside them
Cooked in pure white coconut oil
All the family prays for this sumptuous dinner
No one is late & everyone is present.
Lovely 7
The white ducks all gather in the backyard during the black night
After eating brown snails in the green ricefield the whole day
Early morning you gather all their white eggs
Scattered everywhere like white stones
Your big brown basket is full as they look at you without any quack.
Lovely 8
It is midnight and everyone is asleep
You hear the slow rain dripping by the window pane
On a nipa roof
As you write your 8th love poem
Her face is still beautiful even when completely asleep
Lovely 9
25 years you have not heard of her
Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day
In your email a valentine’s greeting pops up
It is from her and you save it
Tomorrow morning you will open it again
Looking for the right words to read.
Lovely 10
Your music teacher now at 76 drops by
Your house this morning
You are invited for tea in his flower garden
Then he plays some pieces of Mozart
A little white dog wags its tail at you
As your heart jumps with joy.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Let Your Will Be Done
Let your will be done and let me respect your muse,
Let your will be done and let me find my joy,
Let your will be done and let me gain wisdom;
But in ten years later i will pay my dues!
And like the monkeys trained to pluck coconuts in Asia.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The brotherhood of coconuts is a meeting in the cook-in pot.
If you had teeth of steel, you could eat iron coconuts.
Hope Is An Open Window
(christopher ward/tim tickner/diana ross)
Are we not more than hunger and music
Are we not more than harlequins and horns
Are we not more than color and drums
Are we not more than anger and dance
Give me courage so I can spread it over my face and mouth
Give me courage, give me courage
Give me courage, give me courage
I walk these city streets see the people there
Look into the eyes of quiet despair
And the faces tell a story that words never can
And it falls to everyone of us to try and understand
Out of kindness
One act of grace makes the world we walk a better place
Hope is an open window
Love an open door
To reach out for each other
Is what we came here for
Through an open window
We can see the way
If we hold on to each other, every day
We build walls of suspicion with bars of fears
Tell ourselves well be safe in here
I know more brings us together
Than keeps up apart
First we got to tear down these walls within our hearts
We might be strangers, we can be friends
You and I we both need to let somebody in
Hope is an open window
Love an open door
To reach out for each other
Is what we came here for
Through an open window
We can see the way
If we hold on to each other, every day
Give me courage so I can spread over my face and mouth
We are secret rivers with shaking hips and crests
Come awake in our thunder so that our eyes can see behind trees
Give me courage so I can spread over my face and mouth
Give me courage, give me courage
Give me courage, give me courage
Hope is an open window
Loves an open door
To reach out for each other
Is what we came here for
Through an open window
We can see the way
If we hold on to each other, every day
Hope is an open window
Love an open door
Gotta be there for each other
Is what we sent here for
Through an open window
We can find a way
To love one another
Hope is an open window
Love an open door
song performed by by Diana Ross
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sister (feat. Faith Evans)
[Hook]
Sister You Don't Have To Cry
Everything Will Be Alright
My Sister You Don't Have To Weep
Cuz Things Are Getting Better
[Verse I]
A Mother Worries About The Son She Raised
Alone Cuz He Is Fighting With Danger And
It's Getting Close, But He Won't Listen
She Prays To God And Asks Him Would You Please
Protect Him But She Is Not Alone
[Verse II]
A Young Girl's Lying About The Weight She's
Gaining Because She Is Hiding A Baby
That Her Boyfriend Says He Didn't Father
He Said He Was In Love But Now He Can't
Be Bothered But Keep Your Head Up High
Little Sister
[Verse III]
Strugglin, Trying, Working Days And School At
Night The Bills Are Piling, Patience Low And
Pressures High And You Can't Take It. You Say
You'll Just Throw Up Your Hands But You Can Make
It. Somebody Understands.
[Bridge]
Strong And You're Beautiful
You Should See, You Should Know
Strong And You're Beautiful
Sister, Sister [Repeat]
Hook-------Out
song performed by by Kelly Price
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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How Else Will We Get Them to Split Apart?
When you slapped me.
I knew why.
Although bruised and crying...
My attraction for you grew.
And I just 'knew' this was true love.
The kind from you,
That possesses my obsessed heart.
And canoes around my blinded mind!
With hopes one day,
Only you and I will throw coconuts at each other...
Blissed together,
On our own private island!
'That is sick! '
How else will we get them to split apart?
To get what is inside,
Seen...
To discuss?
And for us,
Now open.
To mend with licks and share more lust.
'By seeking the help we both need.'
Please...
That's too everydayish!
Besides...
There is no passion in that!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Heavy Rain Last Night
the roofs never had
the time to sleep and
in darkness the fingers
of all nails keep
themselves in the
side pockets of
the beams
the rivers rise like
a platform for driftwoods
and leaves and
coconuts in a
fast parade
as a little boy watches
the show
and then
the frogs' hands begin
to clap
the crickets are not
in the mood for
singing
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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About Grandmother...
at 90
grandma was left alone
sometime in
1970
she lost her mind
walked down the stairs of the house
and fell
on the big rattan basket fit
for the
coconuts
when she died there was
a grand funeral
her niche was covered by
daisies
her picture when she was young
was best
the neighborhood was so
impressed
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Monkeys Must Know What's Good For Them
Monkeys do mind,
How a banana peels.
And how that's done,
To quicken the taste.
Why bananas do appeal,
And not coconuts?
I had not seen this spoken.
Or discussed in a fuss.
The monkeys must know what's good for them.
As they get their vitamins.
And swing from high vines.
The monkeys must know what's good for them.
And we...
Unfortunately,
Are not monkeys.
The monkeys must know what's good for them.
As they get their vitamins.
And swing from high vines.
The monkeys must know what's good for them.
And we...
Unfortunately,
Are not monkeys.
Monkeys do mind,
How a banana peels.
And how that's done,
To quicken the taste.
Why bananas do appeal,
And not coconuts?
I had not seen this spoken.
Or discussed in a fuss.
And we...
Unfortunately,
Are not monkeys.
The monkeys must know what's good for them.
As they get their vitamins.
And swing from high vines.
Stripping exotic trees,
Of fruit they leave.
The monkeys must know what's good for them.
And we,
Unfortunately...
Are not monkeys.
The monkeys must know what's good for them.
And,
We...
Unfortunately,
Are not monkeys.
The monkeys must know what's good for them.
And we,
Unfortunately...
Are not monkeys.
Monkeys must know what's good for them.
But we...
Unfortunately,
Are not monkeys.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Girl with the Croissant.
You watch the way the girl
Pulls apart the croissant with
Her slim fingers and licks each
Finger in turn sucking on each
With the passion of one making
Love and yet as she pulls it apart
There is that slowness oh that
Deliberate tearing open as if she
Were now opening herself for her
Latest lover as her fingers pull and
Her eyes gaze and her tongue licks
The corners of her soft mouth to
Catch escaping crumbs as if they
Were the juices of her lover’s sperm
Then she turns her head and sees
Your stare and you just wishing you
Was the croissant in her fingers there.
poem by Terry Collett
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Sister
Hook
Sister you dont have to cry
Everything will be alright
My sister you dont have to weep
Cuz things are getting better
Verse i
A mother worries about the son she raised
Alone cuz he is fighting with danger and
Its getting close, but he wont listen
She prays to God and asks him would you please
Protect him but she is not alone
Verse ii
A young girls lying about the weight shes
Gaining because she is hiding a baby
That her boyfriend says he didnt father
He said he was in love but now he cant
Be bothered but keep your head up high
Little sister
Verse iii
Strugglin, trying, working days and school at
Night the bills are piling, patience low and
Pressures high and you cant take it. you say
Youll just throw up your hands but you can make
It. somebody understands.
Bridge
Strong and youre beautiful
You should see, you should know
Strong and youre beautiful
Sister, sister (repeat)
Hook...out
song performed by by Kelly Price
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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New diet
I tried a new diet
nothing but coconuts and bananas
But I soon found
it wasn’t for me
I didn’t lose
a single pound
But Damn! ! Could I ever…
Climb a tree! ! !
poem by David Whalen
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Fingers
In that photo of yours
I saw you –
Your face, your shoulders,
Your hands, and then
Your fingers…
My lips quivered
So did my hands
And I felt like touching you,
With my quivering lips
And unsure hands,
Those very beautiful
Exquisite fingers…
Reading your poems of love
And pondering over your letters…
Sometimes I imagine
You writing to me
With those very same
Slender and artistic
Adept fingers…
Very often I feel
And wonder…
If your fingers
Ever do ache
Writing so long,
So nice,
And so very endless,
Day after day…
And if they do, my Love
I feel like pampering them
With tender, loving care
A kiss here, a kiss there…
Holding them,
Caressing them,
Sucking them slow…
Your fingers in my mouth
Taking turns to go
One by one,
I feel them,
Nibble them,
Suckle them,
Make love to them,
Within the deep recesses
Of my oral crevice…
Till they feel pampered
And satiated
And I feel the same too…
Contented and happy
Making love to you
With your fingers
In my mouth…
A wonderful tryst
Of love and lust,
Warmth and arousal,
And then if you wish…
And if I'm also willing,
We can play this game
All night long…
Where you don’t win
And I don’t lose
We both win over together
And lose ourselves
To each other…
I give free rein to
Your fingers…
To touch, feel
And explore
The inner crevices
And every pore
Of my body…
The mouth has had its turn
Now, do you wish to go
Further down..?
And see how it feels
To caress my breasts,
My derriere and my
Yoni,
With those seeking,
Exploring fingers of yours…
You’ve penned a lot of poetry
And your letters intoxicate me…
How about writing
Some letters of love
And a few lines of love ballads
On the spaces and margins
Of my body…
Dipping your fingers,
And drinking into
The juice of my
Dripping Yoni…
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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