The Flitting Things
be reminded again
on the fluidity of our affairs
look at my body
this is a boat carrying
my spirit
to the other side of
this island
this earth is another
ball
that our hands have taken
hold
on a fickle play
what is this place?
we kneel
most of the times to
feel nothing
but sand and hear nothing
but the songs of
the worms
what is this mind?
it is a temple for words
where sometimes
all prayers are
forgotten
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Birds Are Not Singing
it is nighttime
that is why
the moon is full
and the stars
are brighter as ever
the clouds are thin
as a quick brush of the
Chinese painter
the temple is empty
and the candles are turned off
by the wind from
the sea
the birds with their
dreams
do not sing
the usual sad songs
that you hear
now it is you who must
listen to the songs of
solitude
that silence that
dances
the classical ballet
that silence that anchors
the boat
by the side of
your lovely island
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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When Sorrow Is Forgotten
When sorrow is forgotten
the sun can finally be seen in the dusk sky of warm hues
your mind feels light and open
and your body that was once locked up in chains is free as a young eagle
When sorrow is forgotten
life presents you with the gift of love and happiness
your wings can dry from the tears that dampened them
you can finally let go and soar
The higher you fly, the lighter you feel
the weight that once kept you confined, starts to fall from your shoulders
your lungs can finally envelop the cool air
of Earth
When sorrow is forgotten
you mind can think clearly again
your body is your temple again
and your heart can finally feel again
The Limitations Of The Body...
sometimes i forget that i have a body
it is only when i eat that i remember i have one
but most of the times
i am full and so i almost forget all about this body
i am feeding it with wrong things
ideas, more ideas,
i am covering it with mysteries that it cannot relate because
a body is just a body
earthly, mundane
clay,
stick, creepy
skin, hair
sunken eyes,
trembling hands
it is flesh, bones, cartilages,
and
nerves, and when all these nerves take revenge on me
i shall finally lose this body
which i welcome somehow
because i have not experienced it yet
fully
i live in the mind,
my castle is in my imagination,
and i eat nothing for the day
but words
and i drink nothing for the day but ink
and i touch nothing for the day
but keys
the body is forgotten and so are my chains,
my prisons, my
dark rooms,
my body, this fetter,
this
ball and chain that hold me
in hunger and pain and
thirst and
constant urination,
disturbing
defecation
sometimes i like to become nothing but air
so you cannot see me anymore so i can go places and be lost forever
because i am not this body,
and i do not want to be caught in here
a little longer.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Ears in the Turrets Hear
Ears in the turrets hear
Hands grumble on the door,
Eyes in the gables see
The fingers at the locks.
Shall I unbolt or stay
Alone till the day I die
Unseen by stranger-eyes
In this white house?
Hands, hold you poison or grapes?
Beyond this island bound
By a thin sea of flesh
And a bone coast,
The land lies out of sound
And the hills out of mind.
No birds or flying fish
Disturbs this island’s rest.
Ears in this island hear
The wind pass like a fire,
Eyes in this island see
Ships anchor off the bay.
Shall I run to the ships
With the wind in my hair,
Or stay till the day I die
And welcome no sailor?
Ships, hold you poison or grapes?
Hands grumble on the door,
Ships anchor off the bay,
Rain beats the sand and slates.
Shall I let in the stranger,
Shall I welcome the sailor,
Or stay till the day I die?
Hands of the stranger and holds of the ships,
Hold you poison or grapes?
poem by Dylan Thomas
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When Children Pray
Children only kneel when some incident causes great fear
Children only cry when they feel alone and threatened
Children live by a strong faith that is scare these days
Children will bare any type of pain if they feel it will ease the hate
And those times when children pray those times are when god can do nothing but, obey
Children the ask for happiness and they are the light of day
Yet we let millions of these treasures starve for attention
Children look at war but, look away
Its times like these when children prayers save the day
In this world of lost souls what more could one wish for than just pure hope
They are bright as stars that glitter
And all they shed is grace
With sticky fingers from exploring the juices mother earth bares
And their innocence laying bare
And simple truths spew from their rosy lips
Children pray but only when they can feel the end is near
And their love is a sudden rush that only causes forgiveness
Perfect smiles they wear upon their face
And children never hold any disgrace
Light shallow dreams of making the world a better place
When children kneel that is for which they will pray
Children only pray when in doubt
And their voices portray light fears
All a child wants to see is the new day break
And when that thought is threatened children kneel and pray
poem by Victoria Martinez
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Smooth Sailing
Smooth sailing in a sailing boat on the Caribbean Sea
It is Christmas and the spirit of giving is in the air
In other parts of the world it is snowing
Here it is sunny and bright
Smooth sailing in a Caribbean Sea, what a wonderful place to be
The palm trees are all over the Island
I felt in love with this place already, you can tell by my body language
The Caribbean is like home for me
I wonder what lives in that Caribbean Sea so crystal clear that you can See the bottom of this sea
At the end of the day the sun goes down and I take pictures of the Caribbean Sea
Memories of my sailing trip in the carribean to keep and to share with Others
I fished a few times in the carribean sea
I have everything on board of my sailing boat
poem by Aldo Kraas
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These Hands
Given by God -are these hands!
One can do many things -with these hands
With love one can help a strangers' hands-
Allay and comfort the elders' gnarled hands
Clean sweep and mop with these hands
Decorate and embellish with these hands
Cook and serve food to all with these hands
Clasp a loved one with these hands
Applaud one with pleasure with these hands
Dig the soil and form a garden with these hands
Hold a book to read with these hands
Write and post a card with these hands
Type a poem to cheer someone with these hands
Draw a picture and sew clothes with these hands
Paint a beautiful scene to amuse with these hands
Play a game of volley ball or cricket with these hands
Swim the waters and row a boat with these hands
Pick the harvests and fruits with these hands
Feed the animals and birds with these hands
Seek the warmth of dear ones with these hands
Feel the soft petals of a flower with these hands
Fold the palms to pray with these hands
Given by God - are these hands!
poem by Chandra Thiagarajan
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My Heart is Full
My heart is full.
It has drowned in the despair.
My eyes leak what is left over of my heart’s tears.
The endless river flowing under my skin
Pulsing with life yet not quite alive
The seed that has been protected, is slowly being put out.
Being sucked along in this flood that comes from the pain the heart bleeds.
Will my heart die?
Can it survive, this island of despair?
As my spirit lies crumpled on the floor of this collapsing island
Hateful words swimming around like sharks in a pool of innocent blood, my blood.
Will my mind be able to reach the spirit in time?
To pull it up and lock it away till the time is better?
What will happen?
I’m anxious to know
The island can hardly hold the limp body
The body that does not want to live
Yet is afraid to die
What will happen?
I’m anxious to know
poem by Corina Vitale
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Inside
Do you know the people fighting for your head?
What you think, the things you read and what you see.
What you hear and how you choose
Your buy from wrong.
Yeah I hear the sound of a coming new wave.
Have you ever been lonely?
Afraid to speak your mind?
Are you ever reminded to trust the voice inside?
Now I know the reasons for the other side,
And I see a different point of view this time.
I will be a stronger person if I try.
I will see the other side of this day.
Are they really controlling
The way you use your mind?
Are you ever reminded to trust the voice inside?
Have you ever been lonely?
Afraid to speak your mind?
Are you ever reminded to trust the voice inside?
song performed by by Queensryche
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet: My ‘Temple’ On Earth
The pillars of my strength are three for now!
Thou art the rock on which my temple stands!
To all Thy tenets, humbly do I bow;
The construction will be with my own hands.
Let prayers make my mind draw plans with ease;
Let grace of God reinforce every brick;
Let God’s mercy help me construct in peace;
Let fear of God make my heart never sick.
The temple is my family on earth!
Outlive it must, the fury of devils;
O God, Thy blessings must not be a dearth;
Let impervious be temple to evils!
When temple’s made, thine humble servant, I
Whole-heartedly wish to Thee glorify.
poem by John Celes
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A One Man's Show
now, this is my last instruction for you
hear it well: when you travel in this boat
you paddle, there is no machine
your hands are paddles
your boat your body
your steer your foot
now they do not mind you but you speak a lot
and laugh a lot
they will not comment somehow
trusting you
that you know where to go
and what to bring
and when and where to finally stop
the boat and keep it
on the other side of this big river
the point is
you will never know whether you have arrived or not
they just keep on watching
and they will hear every groaning and moaning
that your are making
as though you are making love with
someone invisible
things are complicated finally
at first you proclaim
this is a simple matter and i know fully well what is happening
but that is not the case really
when you arrive there
there will be big changes
clothes change from blue to white
you will grow a beard
and your fingers are no longer proportional to your arms
some things appear smaller than normal
and you being to
shy away from everybody who keeps on seeing you
stalking you
but their mouths are shut
like a wall
that once was a door
things are different now
very complicated
harrowing experiences of doves and bats begin to unfold
some worms scream finally
they shout your name
and you close your ears and
sleep.
the life that they call a stage
lets the curtain fall
it is the end of your show
and they all begin to leave you
alone again.
(For Erye... )
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Stone Statue
Hear me
Feel me
Why can't you understand me
My heart is beating
My mind is bleeding
Why can't you hear me
I long to feel a touch
I'm fighting to embrace the warmth
The nectar of life
But yet I am only given strife
Why am I that stone statue
Left alone in a forgotten garden
Gravel tears do I shed
Cracks in my heart and body
They are all I feel
My concrete hands are reaching
My stone eyes are searching
Yet I am alone
The statue of stone
Forgotten amongst lifes cold road...
poem by Janelle Morehart
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Making The Choices...
from my rotting belly
words like words are coming out
no one likes them
worms are beguiling
i am misled myself
because from my rotten belly
the worms without my minding
have become
tiny butterflies
then they fly towards my hair
which have become some kind of little flowers
and i can smell the sweet scents of chili
i have forgotten my body
i have become a forest with all these safari stuff
and orchids and wild birds
to my big surprise of course
because i am never asleep i am awake
oh, this workings of the mind
from a rotten body, this junk of our history
shall rise
the wonders of our future, a forest, birds, safari, rivers,
clouds, skies,
everything, everything, you simply have to make the choices...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Peace on Earth
Peace on earth not by chance,
Let faith love and charity
Spread the desire to melt the ethnic stance.
Hold hands together we are all the same,
Hold hands together we are all to blame.
You can feel it in the global heartbeat,
As you hold a babies hand
You can see it in a child’s eye,
As it reflects pure faith in its protected land.
You can see it in a dropp of rain
As it splashes on the growing grain.
Hold hands together you Muslims and Jews,
Hold hands together you Christians and Catholics.
All you Hutu’s and Tutsi, Sunni and Shiites,
Asian and African come on, come on,
Join the bands, hold your hands.
Don’t let the human’s race to destroy this place.
Hold hands together we are all the same
Peace on earth it can be done,
For our divine kingdom come.
Hold hands together we are all to blame,
Hold hands together as we are one,
Then thy will be done
By Christ, Mohammed, Budda and
The Rising Sun
Amen.
poem by Ken e Hall
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A Temple Is Not A Temple Of Selfishness
this is my body
this is my temple
this is where my spirit lives
in flesh and bones
this is my face
this is my skin
these are my feelings
these are my hopes and aspirations
now touch me
now let your fingers run over my skin
let me feel you too
like i am no longer an island
a body of water
a river a sea where boats always sail away from me
where birds just pass and fly by
destined for another place to another shore to another bush
this is my body this is desire this is hunger and thirst and longing
feed me with your body
satisfy my thirst
fill my longings with your longings too
let your river chain my body
let your sea fill my land let your skies be above to wrap me
to shelter me to fill me also with more stars and moons and suns
let me not be all alone like a space without anything without a flicker
let me become a universe glowing and hushing and lushing with life
this is my body this is your body too
let us breathe let us touch let us push through
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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In Prayer
in prayer you kneel you make your pleas
you signify
your lowliness in supplication
you behave
like a slave
you mumble you juggle your words
choppy sometimes as you are in deep sorrow
in hunger in thirst
in dire need of comfort
asking wanting that your prayers
be granted
you genuflect to a certain extent
you are crying
you are silent
yet you are so confused and crowded
you need your prayers to be answered
at once
the soonest
you are dying
or someone you love is dying out there
you want to live
you want the other you love to live some years
you want to be together
hence your prayers
some tears fall on the floors now wet and salty
a flood of tears
a rush of a thousand words in supplication
you fall on the floor
face down the earth hands stretching body flat and so tired
i watch you and i pity you and if i were God myself i could have
heard and granted all our prayers
the prayer room is so silent
it is cold tonight and i am too, so confused hearing nothing
outside a storm is raging
the rain so strong like the wind is coming
i close the door and the windows so there may still be silence
so our prayers may be heard
who knows? maybe, maybe, who knows? we must still continue....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sand Island
The crisp cool wind is blowing in my face
Kenny G blowing “forever in love”
In my ears while trying to keep a pace
The blue, cloudless sky looming high above
Me only enhance my recurrent ride
To Sand Island, a very special place
Where all worldly problems are set aside
Awhile and “I” is the objective case
Yes! It’s all about me during this ride:
Pedaling, sightseeing and elation
These of which can not at all be denied
Me. Upon reaching my island mission
I’m Inspired enough for one more sonnet
About a special day I’ll not forget.
The meandering beaten path in front
Of me guides my way through a host of trees.
Some I identify but most I don’t
Have a clue as to their names. Just the breeze
In my face, the earth-colored foliage,
The fauna scampering in front of me,
And birds singing from branches, all upstage
My intruding presence. My mp3
Playing Kenny G songs along the way:
Love songs mostly but it doesn’t matter
I’m in love everyday, more so today.
I love god, wife and nature, all concur
And reciprocate. This is my heaven
In a very special place: Sand Island.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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Burning Down
]from the back of my neck, oh oh oh
Wired a glass jaw, oh oh
Plantation burning your boat is coming in
Strum your jews-harp, youre reeking gin
Running water in a sinking boat
Going under but theyve got your goat
Burning down - my hands are tied my feet are bound
Burning down - cant you see that my hands are bound
Johnny mike is reading in the yard
His storys timely, oh oh oh
What river is it anyway, radio
Not in a boat, in your ear
Running water in a sinking boat
Going under but theyve got your goat
Burning down - my hands are tied my feet are bound
Burning down - cant you see that my hands are bound
You pick your island in the sun
Take your island off hes got a gun
Burning down - my hands are tied my feet are bound
Burning down - cant you see that my hands are bound
Hes cooking in the woods, a brush fire in your neck
Feeling mighty mighty, oh oh oh
You can pick your island in the sun
Take your island off hes got a gun
Running water in a sinking boat
Going under but theyve got your goat
Burning down - my hands are tied my feet are bound
Burning down - cant you see that my hands are bound
song performed by by REM
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Golden sand
Under the rain
inside my imagination in a place
where there is no race
im happy here
no busses to chase
no countrys to take
no judgement to make
so safe no one can harm me
no gangs, a gang cant grow into an army
groups dont make troups
we have one land
there is golden sand
on this flat surface
we work it with our bare hands
we dont need to build a boat to cross the sea
we are happy here so we leave it be
we are already free
there may be a greener side
but its a greener side we dont need to see
its all said and done
on golden sand under the sun
my life has finally begun
my imagination is real
because I can feel
I can feel... the rain?
poem by Daniel McCann
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Kick Off Ball
Kick off ball,
Kick the ball to win the game!
But, with fair play.
Player,
Lyricist,
Arranger,
Keeper,
Composer,
Winner! !
But it was only yesterday that i found you;
And like the game ball in the land of your muse.
Face to face,
Again and again!
But pay and take it;
And, play the match to win the game! !
Play the ball,
Kick the ball,
And like the African Cup of Nations!
Race, ace, face, brace, mace, place, lace;
But words are things upon a thought,
And like something long lost! !
However, play the ball into the net to win the game.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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