The Journey Towards The Top...
your wish must be
mothered by passion
your first step maybe
desire but it will not
always be the same
the other steps till the
end of your journey
towards that highest peak
will all be bleeding
sacrifices of the feet
you carry with you the
heavy weight of silence
like four sacks of rice
burdening your back
you are no longer fragile
as a morning glory
your eyes pierce the skin
of the ground, daggers all.
you forget your name
you shed off masks
you do not know a face
you keep that spirit
you have become all the
elements of nature: wind,
sea, mountain, space,
meteor, sun and moon,
but you are still one
as the steel self that you
are, a man apart from the rest.
you know beforehand about
your ending, you become a stone
part of the cliff, kissed by
the clouds, sings with the
wind, overlooking the plains.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Plains
WIDE are the plains—the plains that stretch to the west
An ocean of trackless waste, untrodden and rude,
Where an Austral sun flings fire on earth’s bare breast,
Brazen skies o’erhanging a treeless solitude.
Wild are the plains—the plains that shimmer and surge,
Leagues of billowy grass like an angry sea,
Bend ’neath the storm-wind, chanting its mystic dirge—
The wind that knows no Lord—Lord of ocean or lea.
Calm are the plains—when the moon’s clear beams are shed
And the wilds lie hushed, all shrouded in silver-grey,
And Nature sinks to rest like one whose life has fled,
E’en as a bride lying dead in her bridal array.
Weird are the plains—the plains that wait for the dawn
When the shadowy darkness strives with the sickly light,
And the battle hangs in the balance, finely drawn,
Till the spears of morning pierce through the mail of night.
Who shall hear, O Nature, messages thou wouldst send
In thy desolate places, far from the moving throng?
Ah, but the soul that loveth thee best may comprehend,
The voice of the silence speaketh louder than song!
poem by George Essex Evans
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The Footsteps Of The Fools
when you are not there yet
you aspire for it, it is like a magical mountain
the apex of which you dream to step upon,
and every day of your life
you prepare
to be there, every step is carefully done
every strategy studied so well,
until you reach there, and what do you see?
the plains below, just like another scene
anywhere
you hear the song of the wind there
you touch the fog
you feel the rugged texture of its soil
orchids hang on its sides
but they are all the same
in all those places that you have been
there is really no difference
and you come down
and others who see you adore you
and ask you questions
about the song at the peak of that mountain by the wind
how does it feel to be on top?
you tell them that it is all the same
that there is nothing that makes that peak so significant
that you devote all your life
trying to reach it
but no one believes you and you regret to see them
following the footsteps of the fools over and over again
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Moon Glow
The darkest night, flows with a
wind hush through open blackness.
Ya'ever see the moon glow?
Ya' ever hear the wind whisper?
Rivulets spill with water
across the mountain plains;
as liquid rolls down along the steep slope-
ya'ever see the moon glow?
Ya' ever hear the wind whisper?
Stars glitter through sparkles
of the darkest night.
Wind cold breeze swifts;
swiftly into space.
Laughter engulfs the moon light.
Ya' ever see the moon glow?
Ya' ever hear the wind whisper?
Moon light angles corners,
as sweet melodies swell into air,
of silence.
You ever sight the bird dance,
as shadow flicker
upon the moon?
Ya' ever see the moon glow?
Ya' ever hear the wind whisper?
poem by Celine Berghmans
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Chains
I dont want any trouble. I dont want to make any waves.
I dont want any conscience. and I dont wanna be brave.
Ive kept my distance. my feelings have never been shown.
I know that Ive been walking fences,
Denied what I have known.
I carry chains. (I carry chains.)
Heavy, heavy chains. (chains that are made.)
I carry chains (I carry chains) round my feet.
I feel the weight (I feel the weight.)
Chains are the different things that should not be hanging on me.
I put my conscience under a stone, the stone under the ground.
Walked from where I had left it. I hoped it couldnt be found.
My conscience persisted. its a haunted seed I have sown.
Calls me out from the distance
And it just wont leave me alone.
I carry chains. (I carry chains.)
Chains that are made. (chains that are made.)
I carry heavy chains. (I carry chains.)
Talk about the weight. (I feel the weight.)
Chains are the temporary things that should not be hanging on me.
song performed by by Chicago
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The way it goes. (BY A 12 YEAR OLD)
The wind in your hair,
the wind in your face, the wind in your toes,
the wind up in space.
The wind down below,
or even up higher.
as cold as ice,
or as hot as fire.
When the wind tieds down,
the grass stops moving.
The trees are still,
and grandma starts snoring.
The day comes to night,
The sun turns to moon.
Then I have to wait,
till morning to use a spoon.
Good night my child,
now, you rest up good!
for now you'll be sleeping,
aswell as the neighborhood.
So as you sleep,
I'll continue to sing.
and when the day comes
you'll get the chance,
to sing to your kids, my love.
poem by Braylyn Thomasson
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Autumn's Grace
The autumn’s dream may keep its dying grace
With flecks and shades of bleeding leaves and yellow.
The cold wind's scorch may wither the green’s space,
When fruits of green a bit more need to mellow.
And autumn’s tear on every leaf perceives
The cold wind, which scorches green so cruelly,
Till glass fleck shade of bleeding yellow leaves
The living world to meet its ground so coolly.
And autumn’s red may silence the bird’s voice,
When shivers of the tree the rain embrace
And nature's hide, having no other choice.
The winter slowly comes showing her white face.
poem by Marieta Maglas
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The View At The Top
it is 3000 steps from the
ground. You begin climbing
on an early morning
when the grass are still
rich with dew
and then the sun
starts to shine and then
the birds start to gather
the sweet sap of the
fruit with their
tiny, and long, black beaks
along the way.
it is not strange to see
a variety of colored
butterflies hovering
from one flower to
another. They too
gather the nectar
from the wildflowers
along the way.
you climb slowly
each cemented stair
of this old shrine
you tackle each
station of the cross
of this catholic rite.
finally at noon you
reach the top and
see the whole of the
city below.
a river winds like a
snake.It is the same river
that you pass seven times
before reaching the
ground of this peak.
you see the sea beyond
like a basin with still water.
you see boats like
floating petals of a
white flower, and those
biggers ones appear
to you like leaves
that had fallen to the ground.
you see clouds and clear skies
and you feel that up here
you are both king and god.
do not look down on this cliff
the feeling that everyone pulls down
your feet is still there.
you have felt it before in the office
where you are working and you
want to quit.
just like the butterfly that gathers
the nectars or the birds that gather
the sap of the ripe fruits
you come here to gather
your spirit. You want to be strong.
You want to be whole again.
You like to move on.
There is so much silence at the top.
There is no noise except the comforting silence of the wind.
There is so much to gather here.
Memories. Thoughts. Solitude. Peace.
Harmony. The unity of the universe in the
palm of your hand.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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In That Place...
arriving there
we begin to change
we shed off
all shreds
all colors of expectations
we have learned
that we do not really need
the rainbow
neither its tail end
nor its bridge
we are met with the
substance
of having to hold on to
a horizon
without sun
the weight of
nothing
that gives no odor
that bears
no weight even
that of a feather
when we ask
how come that despite everything
the growing and blooming
there is still
the quintessence of an
existence
we are only embraced by those
incomplete arms
hands without fingers
face without eyes
yet somehow we are amazed
it is the face that sees everything
it is the arms that is warmer
without those fingers
with all the feelings of wants
we have become less of what we are
when we have shed
everything like all the leaves of those trees
we have met the essence of space
the comfort of the wind
the soothing silence
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Against the Wind
I have walked against the wind
From the time I was a child
Forward steps were hard to take
The wind was never mild
The wind blew hard against my
Face and made it chafe and burn
I knew not else it was not of
My concern
I moved with haste to make some
Time against the blowing gale
With every step I took I would
Often see it fail
My body ached with pain fighting
And trying to get ahead
I pushed against the wind 'till I
Was almost dead
Then one day from out of the wind
A voice said to me
Know the Lord thy God and He
Will make you free
So I said Lord make this wind blow
At my back and push me ever on
Hurry Lord hurry my spirit is
Almost gone
Jim Richardson
poem by Jim Richardson
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One Face?
shall i pretend to you that i have only one face forever?
you are silent
you think like a deep river making no sound at all
despite the storm when the waters from the mountains come
and force you to rise and run and rage and they accuse
you of having caused the flood
as i watch in sadness
you are my night and day and you have seen the changing of my hues
i turn red like a rose
become white like a carnation
become sturdy like a bark of the oak tree
sometimes i turn into stone
hard and unmoving
you see me and touch me with your wind and mist
like a diamond i wear some corners some faces
for me to glitter
for me to find meaning in the life that i carry within my arms
a lull sometimes
almond eyes a rocking of my feet
these are the mechanisms of my coping up
to be a man
in your silence i set aside my masks and face you
shed off some faces and look at you
with the eyes of my soul
oh, i become so vulnerable to the truth of this one and only face
as you kiss me
in my lips
i quiver i become so light i become so alive i become so real
as all the other faces fade like fume from the funnel
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Some Kind Of A Face
shall i pretend to you that i have only one face forever?
you are silent
you think like a deep river making no sound at all
despite the storm when the waters from the mountains come
and force you to rise and run and rage and they accuse
you of having caused the flood
as i watch in sadness
you are my night and day and you have seen the changing of my hues
i turn red like a rose
become white like a carnation
become sturdy like a bark of the oak tree
sometimes i turn into stone
hard and unmoving
you see me and touch me with your wind and mist
like a diamond i wear some corners some faces
for me to glitter
for me to find meaning in the life that i carry within my arms
a lull sometimes
almond eyes a rocking of my feet
these are the mechanisms of my coping up
to be a man
in your silence i set aside my masks and face you
shed off some faces and look at you
with the eyes of my soul
oh, i become so vulnerable to the truth of this one and only face
as you kiss me
in my lips
i quiver i become so light i become so alive i become so real
as all the other faces fade like fume from the funnel
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Choice Of What Shall I Be Later
shall i pretend to you that i have only one face forever?
you are silent
you think like a deep river making no sound at all
despite the storm when the waters from the mountains come
and force you to rise and run and rage and they accuse
you of having caused the flood
as i watch in sadness
you are my night and day and you have seen the changing of my hues
i turn red like a rose
become white like a carnation
become sturdy like a bark of the oak tree
sometimes i turn into stone
hard and unmoving
you see me and touch me with your wind and mist
like a diamond i wear some corners some faces
for me to glitter
for me to find meaning in the life that i carry within my arms
a lull sometimes
almond eyes a rocking of my feet
these are the mechanisms of my coping up
to be a man
in your silence i set aside my masks and face you
shed off some faces and look at you
with the eyes of my soul
oh, i become so vulnerable to the truth of this one and only face
as you kiss me
in my lips
i quiver i become so light i become so alive i become so real
as all the other faces fade like the poisonous fumes from the funnel
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Wind Inside
Gusts of wind penetrate the room,
The room widens before your eyes.
It never changes yet electrifies you,
This city needs space to be comfort.
The wind inside is now strong, with hesitation,
And forming layers of skin.
I see the devastation as poverty of feathers,
The wind will change us as a gust of wind.
Then we willfully exchange our bodies for air,
Water again is, elements can form;
We lived forever in the gardens of wind and flowers.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Astronauts
couples on the verge of divorce
have become astronauts because they always say they need
space.
it matters, and matter is that
which occupies space and has weight.
i need space. i am gaining weight.
i am standing on a cliff, on the verge of an abyss
i am not afraid
i want to fall, because i am an astronaut too needing
space.
i miss the fun at the opening of your beehive.
sort of your art boutique
i did not forget it.
i need space.
i need space.you badly need more space.
tomorrow morning you will ask me
why did you write a sad poem last night?
and i too, now, needed more space
to lie,
i will ask you,
which one?
did i?
i cannot remember.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I Will Listen
I will listen closely to your heart
From dawn to sunset I will hear
When the stars shine I will listen
At night I shall hear your dreams
Hear the sea with its mystery
Read the poetry of glory
Spring brings lovely song birds
Wind blows through joyful trees
We listen to nature, why not the heart?
Your sweet garden is filled with flowers
In the gentle morning I will hear you
Together we paint a portrait of passion
The moon shines in your desire
When your lonely clouds cover
I will hold you beyond words
Your smile is a gift of praise
I will listen to your gentle whispers
The touch of your smooth skin
The beauty of your summer eyes
Darling, I will listen with my last breath
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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The Climb
Step by step
I've come closer to reaching the top
Every step must be placed so that I don't fall off
Looking down to see about how much higher I am
Another cool wind comes through and brushes my skin
The harder I push the tension does grow
I gather my thoughts the further and further I go
With some luck I just might keep on climbing
So better to climb than to face a fall
So high the climb
Can't turn back now
Must keep on climbing up to the clouds
So high the climb Can't turn back now
Must keep on climbing up to the clouds
Pulling myself up by a rope
I better my view
The only thing in sight is what I must do
As I turned I could see myself falling
Which in return save me strength for the climb
So high the climb
Can't turn back now
Must keep on climbing up to the clouds
So high the climb
Can't turn back now
Must keep on climbing up to the clouds
Although many failed I must now prevail with no question
Have no time to stop
Onward to the top of the mountain
And I can't turn back now
Its so very high but I can't turn back now
If I keep it up
song performed by by No Doubt from Tragic Kingdom
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Winds Of Wyoming
Have you ever heard the wind
blowing across the plains?
Moving and stacking snow
in drifts across the lane
Have you heard the wind howling
like a wolf baying at the moon?
It's an eerie and unnerving feeling
making up its melodious tune
Have you ever watched the trees
bending to and fro in the wind?
Leaves blow off and scatter around
it's mother nature who has sinned
Have you heard the windows rattle
as the wind blows through the cracks?
The draft blows under each of the doors
it's coming in from the back
The wind is part of our landscape
and it's with us most everyday
But we love Wyoming wind that's true
it's ours and we're here to stay
poem by Louise Davis
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Multiple Faces And Vulnerability
shall i pretend to you that i have only one face forever?
you are silent
you think like a deep river
despite the storm when the waters from the mountains come
force you to rise and run and rage
you are my night and day
you have seen the changing of my hues
i turn red like a rose
become white like a carnation
become sturdy like a bark of the oak tree
sometimes i turn into stone
you see me and touch me with your wind and mist
like a diamond i wear some corners
some faces for me to glitter
to find meaning in the life that i carry within my arms
a lull
rocking of my feet
mechanisms of my coping up
in your silence i set aside my masks
and face you
shed off some faces and look at you
i become so vulnerable
as you kiss me in my lips
i quiver
i become so light
i become so alive
i become so real
all the other faces fade like a fume from the funnel
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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At The End You Must Become The Part Of Everyone
not all paths are the same
not everything are carved by tradition
somehow you deviate not because you want to deviate
it is just written in the lines of your palm and there is no way
that you can avoid it
oedipus rex is not an exception
what he wanted to avoid he instead entered
it is the tragedy that leads him precisely
to his own tragic fate
someone was once asking: who wants to be myself?
and no one answered quite well
most people find themselves unwanted and that is tragedy by itself
' i never wanted to be myself' the ugly creature in grief said it frankly
to himself who never answered him
you end up unsatisfied and resigned
how heavy is it to carry oneself as a burden
how unfaithful one can be
what a disadvantage to keep an enemy within you
what tragic moment
to hurt your feet with your own hands
to torture your mind with your own thoughts
to pluck out your eyes from your sockets because you do not want to see yourself or to uproot your very nerves that you think are the ones hurting your bones to tear your heart apart
and shatter your fragile self into some kind of irreconcilable pieces
what if you were just as gentle as the wind caressing the waves of the sea
as warm as the sun landing on the valley
your hands are not dichotomies
your heart never a wasted part of your body
what if...you forget the self and think of it as nothing
so that you shall become the wind of the earth
the sea of the continent
the earth on this universe? a darkness moving with space which has become the part of everyone.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Desert Plains
Full moon is rising
The sky is black
I need your call Im coming back
The road is straight cast
Winds in my eyes
The engine roars between my thighs
From desert plains I bring you love
From desert plains I bring you love
Wild mountain thunder
Echoes my quest
My body aches but Ill not rest
Quartz light to guide me
Till sunrise leads
My passion screams, my heart it bleeds
From desert plains I bring you love
From desert plains I bring you love
Then in the distance
I see you stand
On the horizon you raise your hand
In burning rubber
I end my quest
You fall into my arms at last
From desert plains I bring you love
From desert plains I bring you love
song performed by by Judas Priest
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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