The Ingrates
sometimes
we are given so much life
all the beautiful flowers
blooming wildly along our usual paths
to the mountains and seas
we are given so much of air
this invisible abundance
we breathe and take every packet
of freshness in our lungs
and we, out of this familiarity,
and routine,
take all these for granted
even as rights
rather than privileges
even if you we do not ask
all these are given
handed like fruits ripe on a
golden platter
and we have all become
ingrates
and so the Giver has become so sad
regretting that He has created us
finally contemplating upon
a destruction
like the way a disappointed writer
deletes his composition
more of myself too
erasing what i have so carefully thought of
and written on the sand
there was once a time
i did not leave it for the waves
i did it myself
stamping all those castles, destroying each letter
leaving everything in a mess
that it really deserves
after all, i am but a man
angry about ungratefulness....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Silver Platter
the silver platter is what your family gives you
your father makes it and you mother polishes it
and you are given what you need
in your life
some fruits and bread and meat and water
that you need in your journey when they start sending you away and
when they finally leave you
as what this world demands, the usual flow of life and the fading
death, and you find yourself still
thinking and coping and running and stopping and resting and running and walking and curling and stretching what
is all there,
then everything is consumed, the silver platter has nothing, tarnished
and you begin to worry
what used to be is not anymore,
you think life ends just like that,
no
reality bites now, like a snake, or a rabid dog, and you despise the
silver platter
its lasting effect on you, how it made you weak and unthinking,
complacent
and unable to grow your trees and eat the fruits
to raise your goats and eat their meat
to live your own life
and be strong yourself in the darkness that comes
when you still want to play
it is not too late, take the silver platter and throw it away
or bury it
lest another one comes and takes it and be another victim
of its temporary glow that almost killed you
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Phenomenology Of Giving
when you give you give because your heart likes it
your abundance flows from a container filled with so much
you give because having so much is also painful
the tree with many fruits too ripe for the season
gives them all away to the ground
the passers-by shall pick them
and have their thirst and hunger satisfied
the tree gives because there is no more reason for holding
the stalk gives up the weight that it is carrying
the tree has to shed leaves for another cycle
when the picker comes, the tree does not ask who is it
or for the reason why, whether it deserves it
it merely lets go every fruit
lest it be its own burden
for in truth giving away is also a form of relief
a cure of our maladies for greed,
a way of unloading our guilt
a way of erasing our avarice,
the final end to our disgrace.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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For The Rest Of My Life
for the rest of my life
i will take the same routine
home, office, school,
home office, school,
a straight life confined
in a certain space
too confined and too
tight for my soul
and too boring
for my body
home, office, school,
school, home, office,
you ask me if there is
something wrong with
my life? there is nothing
right in it, everything has
always been wrong
and everyday has always
been an attempt to correct
it, but nothing
nothing has fit into it
to cut the routine to
break me from the
chains of everyday
nothing comes and nothing
goes, i think, that is how
it is meant to be,
i think, i simply have
to imagine, make some
figments of stars, and moon
and sun and mountains
and seas and valleys
and castles and princesses
and kings and queens
and too they become routine
too, some poems and stories
some people that do not
actually exist, some imaginary
earth, imaginary creatures
they are all here, in this routine
of imaginations, of poetics
of illusions and allusions,
these lines, my life, these routine
and all my excuses, you and I.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Written In Sand
Your eyes are the color of the sea
You look my way and the waves
Wash over me
Your body shivers with the
Fading light
You say, baby, lets just make
It last tonight.
And when the morning comes
You take me by the hand
And say our love is written in sand
Written in sand
We hear the ocean roar
Were swept away on to some
Distant shore
You whisper secrets of the heart
They keep us close when the
World keeps us apart
Until tomorrow comes
Time is on our hands
Because this love is written in
Sand
Written in sand
Solo
Nothing lies between
A woman and a man
When their love is written in sand
When their love is written in sand
When their love is written in sand
song performed by by Santana
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Happiness In A Platter
fruits in a platter,
pineapple wearing a crown
apples, green and red in shining gloss
of their glory,
alligator pear
sleepy,
ripe mango,
your hands carrying them
your breasts
helping to put them all
in one platter
of flesh.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Beautiful!
Honesty is beautiful
Kindness is beautiful
Intelligence is beautiful
Talent is beautiful
Beautiful is a romance with such abundance
Beautiful are the flowers that roam the earth
Beautiful is awaking to the sound of singing birds
Beautiful is a disguise
Playing hide and seek inside and outside
Beautiful is as naked as the rising sun
Beautiful is delightful and truthful
Beautiful is the golden daylight that shines
And the taste of sweet colored red wine
Beautiful was never ever created by mistake
Beautiful is the ingredient we bake life's cake
When all or nothing is at stake
I am beautiful
You are beautiful
We are beautiful
Beautiful is great
Beautiful is sweet
Beautiful is love
Beautiful is power
Come to me Mr. & Mrs. Beautiful
Let me into your little secret
Of why you are so obedient and dutiful
Copyright 2005 - Sylvia Chidi
www.sylviachidi.co.uk
Check out my bestseller Alien book from Amazon in September 2012. (Only Trees Live Forever)
All my books are available on Amazon
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Fruits Of The Tree
What fruits we have!
Glittering with evil,
To shed innocent blood,
Shining with greed,
And we end in comfort that lasts only a moment
What fruits we bare!
Lost in ambition and passion
That we preach prosperity and success
As if they last an eternity
Swelling with pride that lasts a stint
Fruits of the tree
That the master has planted.
They can choose to ripen, or to stay raw!
They can choose to rot, or to stay ripe!
But, every fruit stands the test of time.
In the end, Ripe with truth and love,
Victory is imminent.
Rotten with deception and hatred,
Destruction waits:
The fruits from the tree of life
poem by Timothy muggaga
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There Is Always A Resolution
the conflicts are the
sand castles
they won't last that
long with the
waves
leveling everything
to the shore
the waves take
what is due
them
the sand castles give
way
and then there is peace
a blank piece
a tabula rasa
that nature offers
to the mind
persistent
on the truth
the open space
the freedom of the
air
the pigeons
moving home
to roost
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Los Flores de la Luna
No one in the world
Be quite like you
With honeysuckle eyes
Happiness and sad
Flow through my roots
Like time through sand
I have seen the
Ever blooming lotus,
To grace these lips
Life’s most humorous
Happiness and sad
Flow through my roots
Like time through sand
Above all others
You are a flower
Growing ever more
Vibrant hour by hour
Happiness and sad
Flow through my roots
Like time through sand
All flowers will fade
As beauty will too,
But a beautiful mind
Will always remain new
Happiness and sad
Flow through my roots
Like time through sand
poem by Jeffrey McCambridge
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A Letter In The Wind
Yellow foliage fallen on my hands
Remind me, they once were green
Reminisce me to our beautiful time
Standing here, witnessing running days
Flying and leaving that moment away
Soon days changing another season,
But I know our time wont be faded away
Even it only just golden past days
Encarved smiles by those memories
Haunting clock ticking, bringing old times,
Staying alive, In a distance of silence
Presently living between our breaths
Far by the oceans, across the lands
Two minds bind to different poles of hearts
Between us, joining two souls, you and me
The only junction connecting us over the sea
Maybe i am only the one who counting
Upon the days till you are here, return
Chasing the time toward the end
To over the season of waiting
Since you been gone,
Day by day I'm living with the sky
Looking the same sun, hope it warming you
Staring the moon bright, hope it shelters your night
Your last promise to return, I am undone the last bye
I shall await, await for your shadow to tell me you're back
But spring has losing it flowers, and leaves about to leave
Evening breeze of autumn, I still living with the sunset sky
It could be another day of waiting, but i am loyal to stay
So in each breathe i take in, my soul write my words
Chaining word by word, embroidered with my prayers
A single hush flying with a letter from my all
Swifting free, those are my letters in the wind
Wandering in this shared world atmosphere
Bird singing over the melodies, tunes of harmony
Singing verses of secret letter hidden in the wind
Encompassed by your magnetic heart, it will find
From a single hush traveled to be in your breathing
May it'll be revealed when reach to heart then your mind
A letter to words then completing the meaning
Binding to your mind of what i am here telling
My whispering soul to you, if you wondering
Below the stars, the shining sparks
Sometimes i feel someone is remembering me
Could it be a reply for me, my letter in the wind?
Take nothing for granted, the only thing i honestly mean
Only praying for you having all great life and things
Maybe this waiting is not going to end
But my prayers will never stop to send
And the letters will be continuously written
In each of my breathing, every second
Till the last breath of my life
Stand here, watching how green turn yellow
and that's how it was our beautiful time
For life has time with mystery flow
Remind you never be low, just go
Trust all things within you
Be strong whatever you do
I am not be there but the wind will
Carrying a letter for you
from me till end of my time
................................. .....................................
The alternate title for this poem is called 'Une lettre dans le vent'. Taking many times before posting this poem, then i done two artworks for it one is called Autumn on my skin, and Eternal spring. Written for a far relative, my french teacher, my friend that i always enjoyed together in thick and thin, start written when my nice buddy had to go to work in Algeria, for few months. I am just hoping you doing well and always be strong and be happy, my best far relative and friend_Unwritten Soul
poem by Unwritten Soul
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Sand Castles
Sand castles on the beach,
but still far out of reach
of the encroaching waves
which wash into the caves
like an unwelcome leach.
The tide will wash it away.
Eden will passionately sway
to the rhythm of the wind.
A moment never to be rescind.
Build the castles anyway.
The sand will always be
just sand and infinitely free.
Whether we use it or not,
it will eventually come to naught,
but the memories remain with me.
poem by Suzette Crous
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A Prisoner
Woke up this morning
feeling my life had changed.
I felt like a prisoner
with invisible bars surrounding me.
There seemed no way to escape
the torment that I feel.
My life seems to be forced
by some unwanted guiding hand.
Every move I make
is scrutinised very carefully,
no freedom of choice can be made.
My life never seems to be my own.
A shadow of despair
hangs over me like a angry cloud,
it follows me wherever I go,
complains if I do things
that are not what they would do.
It’s like being a prisoner
with a warder constantly at your side.
You cannot even breathe
without them being there.
Life has become stifled and stolen,
and there is little you can do.
You wish you could go back,
change a few things if you could,
but you cannot and so you go on.
Feeling like a prisoner
with invisible bar surrounding you.
22September 2008
poem by David Harris
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Storms Of Life
The storms of life
run rampant through
our lives
weaving their way
across the planes
flooding the valleys
leaving remnants of
yesterday
rushing toward the
shore line
disturbing sand
castles
built there long
ago
leaving behind mounds
of sand
on they go, winding
their way
to theis destination.
poem by Heather Burns
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Patience
It's like a conversation, where no-one stops to breathe
Is it my imagination, or did God already leave the table?
Such destruction, and pure white castles in the sand
No time for introduction
With all that money changing hands
And the satellite says, Take a look at all we have
But the old man says,
You want my family, for your libertyI can't do that.
Look into the eyes of any patient man
Whether they be amber, green or blue,
There's a piece of God staring back at you
But they see our children, and the old folk fend for themselves
They see our broken women
On imaginary shelves
But the satellite says, Won't you people look at all we have?
Don't you want it?
Can't you see the things that you lack?
Children in his arms, he turns his back.
song performed by by George Michael
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Not Here With Us But Somewhere Else
it will be different
it is not the usual cup of tea
not the ordinary
day on the platter of the
sea
not the usual fish that you
catch
and serve on the table
on the usual olive oil
and baked
procedure
you see this is experimental
and people's ears need
not listen
nothing to tear nothing to fear
there is nothing that
you detached yourself from
yourself or
another
cool, keep going, do not stay,
there are still
unexplored islands
violet sands, red seas
buried treasures
somewhere else, yes always somewhere else
it is not here
with us, it is always somewhere else
that on nights
when we are dying and too lonely
we know
this is not our place, but somewhere else
a note from a violin string
a leaf blown by the wind
somewhere else, yes somewhere else.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A couple on the beach.
Two frail frames
male and female
walking hand in hand
leaving imprints
waving imaginary magic wand
giggling, teasing, running
throwing caution to wind & rolling
on ever welcoming golden sand.
Making Castles
on the sand
in the air
who cares
when these disappear
moments only to cherish.
Their feet into the calm sea
feeling the touch of cold warmth
bending to gauge under current
watching it to rise slowly from its slumber
thousand lions freed from their cage
appearance of full moon
powered surfs into rage
never afraid of opposition
both
assuring and reassuring each other
of their bondage.
Squatting
they don't talk
silence smiles
understanding perfect
just a gesture,
she goes resplendent
wrapped in orange red
the sun,
witnesses
beginning of the union on the sand bed.
Stampede of sorts
waves surged to have glimpse
those two mortals
oblivious of crazy waves
buried under the sand
wake up with a start
as blanket of water washes
their misadventure of sorts
they glance at each other,
smiling discreetly
hand in hand, drenched
walk away from the heat
---x------
copyright/children of lost God/Tribhawan Kaul
All rights reserved
poem by Tribhawan Kaul
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Don't Mess With My Love
I thought you were a friend of mine but I was wrong
You tried to fit into the arms where I belong
You moved right in behind my back
Everyone knows friends don't do that
I thought you were somebody I could trust
You always said you were happy for us
How could you go and break my heart?
When you knew all along he was mine from the start
He is everything to me
And you know we're meant to be
He's my baby
Don't mess with my love
Take everything I own
Ooh just leave that boy alone
He's my baby
Don't mess with my
Mess with my love
Don't mess with my love
You came right over and looked in my eyes
You said the stories were rumors and lies
And I wish I could believe in you
But I'm sorry to say he told me the truth
He is everything to me
And you know we're meant to be
He's my baby
Don't mess with my love
Take everything I own
Ooh just leave that boy alone
He's my baby
Don't mess with my
Mess with my love
Don't mess with my love
[BRIDGE]
Friends don't do what you do
There's no excuse
I'm so confused
I thought you cared about me
But now I see
All you care about is you
He is everything to me
And you know we're meant to be
He's my baby
Don't mess with my love
Take everything I own
Ooh just leave that boy alone
He's my baby
Don't mess with my
Mess with my love
Don't mess with my love
song performed by by M2M from Shades Of Purple
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Budding
The budding.
A rebirth of a season missed.
Spring arrives to lift spirits high.
Clear blue skies are witnessed...
As white clouds drift.
The budding.
Of flowers and grass and the leaves,
On Oak, Maple and Birch Trees.
Welcomes a lilting done of wind,
Introducing a Spring breeze to ease...
With a life that seems to be enjoyed again.
The budding.
Of familiar love known,
Yet hibernated in the Winter...
Amidst snow drifts.
And we smile and laugh and again forget,
That stress we welcomed to separate us...
From identifying those blessings,
That surrounds us to reach for complete happiness.
To explore and experience all of nature's treasures.
As Spring awakens with a freshness it brings.
With the budding, the blooming and the joy!
As Spring awakens with a freshness it brings.
With the budding, the blooming and the joy!
As Spring awakens with a freshness it brings.
With the budding.
The blooming done.
And the joy!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Woman
In my eyes, as my eyes being but two
Their is nothing more beautiful and
exciting as a Woman true.
GOD has created His flowers and his trees,
But in my eyes He never really created
until He created Woman.
She with hair as long as the grass
blowing in the breeze.
She with eyes as bright and deep as
the sun awaiting for me.
Eyes that can search a mans soul for
his woe, and feels it with happiness.
She with a smile as a rainbow arriving
after the storm.
The smile and rainbow many men had
searched for, so to feel our soul with warmth.
She with a body and walk as an Angel,
That stops mans breadth in His lungs.
She with the gift of life, that gives an old
man the right again to feel young.
She with a scent of Her own that no one
but Her owns.
As the rose and dewdrops has their own
she has hers, but alas theirs can be owned.
GOD created the flowers and trees, and all
the beauty of this world.
And I know I wouldn't be alone when I speak.
Take your leaves, and take your trees.
Take your rose, and take your snow.
But I beg of you GOD please, women to me, leave.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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Spoon Feeding
when love is handed
on a platter
one begins to take
it for granted
when love is being
spoon-fed
on a mouth that
is not as hungry
as a lover
deprived of
sex for months
love becomes
so ordinary like
a traffic routine
like brushing your
teeth
every morning or
taking a hot shower
at night
love misses
wants something
like the adventures
of tarzan
the quest of freedom
for a
lawrence of arabia
love misses
those which are
film-like
a movie of the
night
where endings
sometimes
are too surprising
where beginnings
are strange
enough to know
that love has
just began
we must try
this: love unknown.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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