En.Citatepedia^®.ro

The Freedom To Choose

early morning
one rubs his eyes
upon waking up
one goes to the
rest room for
the usual beginning
and then finally
looks at himself
in the mirror and
in there he sees
the wide ocean of
choices in his eyes.

he washes his fears
with the cold water
inside the cup of his
bare hands.

Now
is another day of
freedom.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The White Poodle

the white poodle rushes inside
the living room
this early morning when i
first open the door
for the air and light
to come in

as i stand by the window
to see the world again
it wags its tail
asking for a little attention
which i so willingly give
and then
with all affection it sits
near my feet

i put my hand on its head
and it rubs its head
warmly on my palm

as usual
we mark this day
with friendship

and then another day unfolds
like a bud blooming for happiness

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Even With My Eyes Closed

Even with my eyes closed
Funny, how I know
Its harder, its harder now
Young girl
In my young girl days
Thinking I could live for always
But like an ocean tide
Im drawn back inside
And I know
Seasons pass
Like sand inside a glass
And nothing, nothing returns
Standing with the friends Ive made
Ill race them to the grave
Well, who won, who won the extra days?
But like an ocean tide
Im drawn back inside
Like an ocean tide
Drawn back inside
And I know
When you take away the years toll
On the waters wide, shallow high and low
In the autumn sky
Happy to know Im going home
Even with my eyes closed
Funny, how I know
Its finally, has it finally begun?
An ocean tide (whoa)
Im drawn back inside
But like an ocean tide (whoa)
Im drawn back inside
And I know
And I know
And I know

song performed by by 10000 Maniacs
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Eyes Wide Open

Your eyes are wide open, but yet you don’t see
All the love I have inside of me.
Eyes wide open, but you don’t look around
You don’t open your ears, you don’t hear a sound.

Eyes wide open but the beauties that surround you
Do not seem to exist.
Is it that your eyes on you are playing tricks?

Eyes wide open and yet you have a blank stare.
Have you closed off your mind?
Or you just don’t care.

What can I do to remove that haze
So that on my face you can gaze.
If I hold you tenderly in my arms
And kiss those beautiful eyes.
Will they move? Will they cry?

What must I do so that you can see
That our love was meant to be.
They say that you went deep inside yourself
To hide the hurt and pain
But without your love “ I am the same”.

Eyes wide open. Did they just glance at me?
Is it because your heart is finally free?
I see a tear forming in your eyes
Emotions being let out that you tried to hide.

Eyes wide open- now they are mine
I can see your love for the very first time.

poem by Louis Rams
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A Love That Does Not Die

early morning
how can birds be seen inside this room?
how can an agnostic be so definite about
the blueness of the skies?

early morning
there is no sun here
where i have sacrificed so much
about writing

and i think of you
because i have loved you

such thoughts
grow flowers in the fertile fields of my tongue
my eyes become suns
my ears twin mountains
from my palms birds nest and lay their egss
in my heart
another universe is born

inside this room
the door shall not be opened

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Lost At Sea.

You remember now the sound of the sea,
The crashing of waves, the white and grey
Gulls in the sky. Mother said, don’t go too
Far out; keep an eye on the young ones.
The cold water made you hop about when
It first went over your bare feet. You knew
Where the young ones were, you could see
Them there at the water’s edge running in
And out as the cold water chased them.
The beach was crowded; the crowds seemed
To occupy each area with their deckchairs,
Windbreakers and towels spread on the sand.
The bright sun shone down heavily; the air
Was still. And Mother’s voice loudly shouting,
Where’s Baba? Where’s she gone? And the
Place she was with the others was without
Her presence now; the panic gripped you.
Your eyes scanned the beach and sea; you ran
Along the beach near the water’s edge gazing
Out at the wide expanse of ocean, ignoring the
Passing ships on the horizon, the sailing boats,
The far out swimmers, just looking for Baba,
Your eyes searching each face, each child, every
Little one running on the beach or out at sea out
Of reach. Mother came running down the beach
Towards you, her face red with effort, her mouth
Screaming out words carried off by the other
Sounds and the sea’s call, pointing out at ocean’s
Hold as a man came up and out of the waves,
Water dripping, eyes wide, and in his arms, Baba
Limp and her swaying head, hair hanging wet,
Seeming lost to you, small arms swinging, dead.

poem by Terry Collett
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Early Morning Cold Taxi

3:36, its cold, I know Im growing old,
With lifes best side on the downward slope,
Its in my own hands, I know Ill cope,
My girls with me and all my friends can see.
Here I am again,
Early morning cold taxi.
Early morning cold taxi.
Done it before, do it again,
Know from experience its not in vain,
Shes the best Ive had, I cannot see, what someone else can do to me.
Its a long way home but loves so warm, youll see.
Here I am again,
Early morning cold taxi.
Early morning cold taxi.
Early morning cold taxi,
Each time I do it, I feel so down and out,
Early morning cold taxi,
though my mind thinks strange Ill keep on, no doubt.
3:36, its cold, I know Im growing old,
One day well be wed,
This I know for its what she said,
Then no more will my mind be uneasy.
Early morning cold taxi,
Each time I do it, I feel so down and out,
Early morning cold taxi,
though my mind thinks strange Ill keep on, no doubt.
3:36, its cold, I know Im growing old,
One day well be wed,
This I know for its what she said,
Then no more will my mind be uneasy.
Here I am again,
Early morning cold taxi.
Early morning cold taxi.

song performed by by Who
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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As Old As

It’s early January
Early morning
My feet are cold on the bathroom tile
And that’s not my face
Staring at me from the mirror
An older face than the one I went to bed with
Puffy skin wrinkles I don’t remember that
One gray hair does not belong to me
I am not this old man
The song of youth still
Plays in my skull my heart my
Bones ache
Eyes blur
After long day working
Hard to keep them open and
I sometimes nod off
To the late news or Letterman just like
My dad did when I was a boy
And I would look at him and think
He’s old and I
Will never be
Am not as old
As that face staring
From the mirror on this
Cold January Morning

poem by Tom Foster
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Mirror, Mirror

Mirror mirror just watchin' with your eye of glass
You're just a fortune wheel with something that i wanna ask
Mirror mirror got my fate lyin' in your hands
You're the fool, you're the juggler
Hangman and lover, you're not like no other
Take a look into my eyes
Tell me what you see
Take a look into my eyes
Tell me is it true?
Take a look into my eyes
Oh when i look at you
Take a look into my eyes
Tell me is it me?
Is it really me?
Mirror mirror gotta know just what you see
My crystal ball, you're lookin' so sly and so sleazy
Mirror mirror hangin' there with that crack in your eye
You make me stumble, make me blind
Time after time and line by line
Mirror mirror oh tell me
You're the fool, you're the juggler
I ain't met a lover, you're like no other
Take a look into my eyes
Tell me what you see
Take a look into my eyes
Tell me is it true?
Take a look into my eyes
Oh it just can't last
Take a look into my eyes
Gonna have to smash the glass
Take a look into my eyes
Take a look into my eyes
Take a look
Take a look into my eyes
Oh yeah
Take a look into my eyes
Take a look into my eyes
Take a look into my eyes
Take a look into my eyes
Take a look
Take a look into my eyes
Look into my eyes
Take a look into my eyes
Tell me if it's me
Baby, baby, baby, baby, baby, baby, baby, baby

song performed by by Def Leppard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rote Lippen Soll Man Kssen

Lately all you can feel is the rain falling
Maybe you feel this world is to blame
you've been crying.
Only
only inside will you know
but still you wonder sometimes:
Where can
where can you go? - Can you go
can you go? -
Remember me
- oh
when you feel this way
And you need someone to lean on.
And if you're ever
- ever too far away
Remember me
- I am the one
- remember me
- I am the one.
Remember me
I am the one who sees in your eyes
Remember me
I am the one who sees in your eyes.
Remember me
- I am yqur guardian angel
and I'll never let you fall.
And if you'Fe ever
ever In fear of danger
-
Remember me
- I am the one
- remember me
- I am the one
-
Who will turn
turn all your darkness to light in the morning.
You'll learn when yov're too hard on yovrself yov can call me.
Remember me
- oh
when you feel this way
. . .
Remember me
I am the one who sees in your eyes
Remember me
I am the one who sees in your eyes.
I can see you
yeah!
Remember me
I am the one who sees in your eyes
Remember me
I am the one who sees in your eyes.

song performed by by Cliff Richard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Key to The Mind

You have given me the key to your mind
Oh, how I thought you so kind

I look in the mirror to see your face
As my heart fills with discrace

I see you standing there
As your eyes they stair

I know you are gone
But my heart still sings it's sad song

I know you have left me to be alone
But yet I can still smell your cologne

I see your eyes as they burn into my soul
Making my heart a simmering coal

I know you have betrayed me
yet still the truth I do not see

I loved you as a babe his mother
But you only pretended to be my lover

So now as I look in the mirror I see your eyes
And I look to the skys

I look in the mirror and seemy own tears
That will wash away my fears

For now I look in the mirror and only see me
For I have finally destroyed your key

poem by Bethany Maxwell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Innocent Mirror

Look into your mirror
And tell me what you see
Is it really you?
Or someone you cannot be

Don’t look at someone else’s mirror
And tell them who they should be
Looking in their mirror
Will not change what your mirror sees

When you look into your mirror
Are you sure you see yourself?
As you gaze into your eyes
Are you sure your eyes aren’t reflecting someone else?

It’s not the mirror’s fault,
That it reflects someone else
How do you expect a mirror to reflect you
If you don’t know who you are yourself

poem by Mehreen Mujeeb
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Good Morning

waking up late
light pushes itself inside the slits of the windows
the sky blue curtains filtering
the hues of
little rainbows

he rubs his eyes
discovering he was all alone
the whole night

there were dreams he could not remember anymore
he sets the curtains aside
opens the window
looks at the garden below
sees the birds feeding on some grains spread to the ground

he hears a song from his heart
a nice one now
and to please what has been disturbing him
a void, a thorny feeling, last night, or was it the other night
he compliments himself with

good morning world
thanks, i am still alive.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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This Art....

it is just a matter of having it in
and it gives the usual
pain or joy, no choice, the feelings
are always there
and the sense of knowing and
being too analytical seemingly destroys the
beauty indescribably
setting

she gives a sigh
when nobody seems to be clapping hands
when no one is bowing
or saying a name at least that one makes it right
and rhyming

'at last, i do not really care'
this is autonomy
of indiscretions of feelings and all these are but
streams
of consciousness the usual candle tears taking shape
in a bowl of cold water

'we let it go'
we tell ourselves mutually about the release of what had been kept
for years
and we know no one understands what is these all about
a sewing machine
a pillow, a veil, a pin, an injecting sting,
a rope, a blanket,
an authority, a cushion, a bluffer,
a clown, and so on and so forth

you are finally misled about all these things
a scissor, a triangular cloth,
an umbrella,
a starfish,

the usual moon resting upon the trees
the sun peeping between two mountains early morning
the kid in town
finally planting the rice seeds
and the buffalo still enjoying the day in mud

there is plane that lands at the airport at 2 o'clock in the afternoon
when you are still taking your siesta by the verandah
and you are irritated and you tell yourself

'oh yes! ' this is all about it.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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To have a feel of my food

To have the feel of my food not just the taste of it in my tongue
I use my bare hands, the rice I fold between my palms the fish
I touch with my fingers, and then my mouth opens to swallow and savor

Just like you tonight, I feel you with my bare hands I taste you
With my tongue because you are the food of my soul and my soul
Feeds on you as you also feed on mine

We are bare all over, not just our bare hands
We touch we feel we lick we breath with our noses
On our skins, we feed on our flesh, we go deeper
Into our souls, our eyes feast on the food we lay in front of us
The lights of our eyes open in our room the festivity to a beginning

We feed on ourselves we are hungry & greedy & we are never full

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Pledge No Longer

after watching films like "The Killing Fields, "
"Apocalypse Now, " "Full Metal Jacket" &
beginning to think long and hard about what
his country had really been doing in Vietnam, Cambodia & Laos,
this high school senior refuses in early morning
home room
to stand up & say
The Pledge of Allegiance
to the flag hanging from the corner of the wall,
where all his classmates, holding their hands over their hearts
mutter along the words that they have repeated
day in & day out,
since they can remember-
his homeroom teacher takes him aside when the rest sit down &
he is told that he needs to say the pledge just like the rest of the kids,
but he sits there staring up at the teacher with
fierce eyes that the teacher sees other classmates already being inspired by at that very moment,
and he utters simply,
"i'm not pledging any longer."

poem by Andrew Delapruch
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The Window

She looks out in the blue morning
and sees a whole wonderful world
she looks out in the morning
and sees a whole world

she leans out of the window
and this is what she sees
a wet rose singing to the sun
with a chorus of red bees

she leans out of the window
and laughs for the window is high
she is in it like a bird on a perch
and they scoop the blue sky

she and the window scooping
the morning as if it were air
scooping a green wave of leaves
above a stone stair

and an urn hung with leaden garlands
and girls holding hands in a ring
and raindrops on an iron railing
shining like a harp string

an old man draws with his ferrule
in wet sand a map of Spain
the marble soldier on his pedestal
draws a stiff diagram of pain

but the walls around her tremble
with the speed of the earth the floor
curves to the terrestrial center
and behind her the door

opens darkly down to the beginning
far down to the first simple cry
and the animal waking in water
and the opening of the eye

she looks out in the blue morning
and sees a whole wonderful world
she looks out in the morning
and sees a whole world.

poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
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See Me In The Mirror

Do you see me standing here,
locked up inside your mirror?
I watch you every day,
standing here inside your mirror.
Why can’t you look over here
at your mirror and see me floating,
waiting to be heard.
I talk to you for hours but
you never hear.
Your mirror keeps me bound
here, unable to touch, stuck in here.
I see you look around nervously,
as if you can sense my presence in here.
I shout, I stomp, I scream and yell.
You turn, quickly, to your mirror.
Your eyes widen with fear.
No! , I yell as you turn away.
Please don’t leave me alone in here.
It’s cold and lonely, please speak to me.
Your shoulders stiffen and
then relax outside your mirror.
Finally, you look at me and speak.
You ask me why I’m here and stay.
I tell you I don’t know.
I’m just stuck standing in your mirror.
You poor thing, you say, feeling sorry for me.
It’s alright, I say, you’ve kept me company all day.
You come closer and stand nearer to your mirror.
You raise your hand to the glass, and I raise mine.
A vibrant burst of beautiful light emanates from your mirror.
Real. I feel your hand touch mine.
I feel the roughness and the smoothness.
Free at last, I am finally real, to come and go as I feel.
To touch and be touched, and to give and take.
I kiss your cheeks and your mouth.
Thank you, I tell your shocked face.
Your rough hands cup my shocked face.
You return my hesitant kisses with your assured ones.
You are mine, girl in the mirror, you tell me.
I am yours, boy outside the mirror, I tell you.
Finally we are together.

poem by Brooke Harris
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The Bathroom Door

this early morning
you are depressed
you face the mirror
when she left
and you tell yourself
this cannot be true
you rehearsed yourself
again
to a line that you have
long wanted to say
years back
but just the same
you fall short of the courage
that all gentlemen
are said to still posses
you wash your face
with a handful of cold water
and slap your cheek
with that usual perfume
that makes her
love you more

you forget the lines
and promise yourself
to say it some other time
you give the mirror
your silly grin
and leave the bathroom
half-open.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Morning Drizzle

Today
If you find out the rain is rattling outside
Don't put your blanket on
And sleeping again

Today
If you find out the wind doesn't stop whistle
Don't close your ears with your hands
And hide your fears

It's just morning drizzle
It's just shower from the sky
That waking this world
From cold winter time

Today
If you find out the sky is grey
Don't you hesitant to go outside
And ruin your perfect day

Today
If you don't see the sunlight shines bright
Don't keep your mourning
And forget to smile

It's just morning drizzle
It's just a mighty spray
That splashes you warning
In your joy of spring

Today
If you find out the cloud doesn't disperse
Don't keep the loneliness inside
Behind the dusty window

Today
If you find out the damp street
Don't let your mood darkening
And grudging over the muddy puddle

It's just morning drizzle
It's just a water breeze
That cooling this land
From the heat of summer

Today
If you find out the plants soaked with downpour
Don't let your heart heavy
To do what you have to do

Today
If you find out the leaves falling helplessly
Don't also feel so weak
To be blown by cruel storm

It's just morning drizzle
It's just the season's change
That washes you some fun
In the harvest of autumn

poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Narcissistic Solitaire

in front of the mirror
you go naked and rub
your body with the oil
from your bare hands

the room is humiliated
and the mirror is angry

the act is done and
finished and you become

the mirror and you are
as empty as the big
room and then you
sleep as it is the only
possible place where
peace can reside.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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