The Morning After By A Room Window Where We Sleep
one thing with light
is its beautiful muteness
it comes bringing silence
and lands on the pillows and blankets
not even the cat's careful feet
not even the soft feather of a sparrow
the curtains open and everything is still
someone leaves without the use of a word
i must stop thinking for i too must keep going
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Witch In The Old Castle Nearby...
as you, foolish dog of my life,
my life in utter peace, a pond of less ripples,
as you, stupid dog of my life
barks at my feet, and tries to distract my own
solitude, that of the candle still in the middle
of my room, the blankets soft on my bed,
the pillows all too silent like flower petals
on a dew filled morning leaf,
as you, twitchy wicked witch
calls my name, i finally give up and
face myself, and leave you, all cracked up,
and i go inside my room and lock my door
and tell my windows, to shut you up,
do not ruin my life, do not ever attempt to do
that which creases my blankets and
stabs my pillows,
for i shall return to you and burn your
furrowed faces, dissolve you in the acids
of my test tubes,
erase you like some misspelled words,
i am a man of peace, and i am stone.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Ripple Of That Last Leaf....
like the leaves falling from the trees
yellowed and light
blown by the wind to the ponds
like a last sigh
from the muteness of its capillaries
this last leaf
as it lands on the pond
shall make the ripples
in your calm
atmosphere....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Small Butterfly To The Size And Shape Of Your Lips
there is this faint
red butterfly fluttering
slowly hovering
hopping from one petal to another
in my garden
it is so beautiful and so soft to the sight
so fragile and so tender
lighter than a feather
as gentle as a baby's breath
while sleeping
it lands on my hand and then on my lips
i stand still
close my eyes
and wish that this moment shall last forever.
i am thinking of you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Call Me Idiot
a word from you,
and i will remember it,
on this
elephantine memory,
idiot, you call me idiot,
and i shall retort for once
but not twice, not anymore
shall i become
another image of you,
i dread.
i will not call you moron,
but i shall be in my room again
alone
on an array of oxymora
talking to the drapes and the drawers
burying all these
humiliations, and putting a stop
to my fears,
i will see the dancing chairs
and hug the lovely pillows,
hide beneath my blankets,
i promise myself, i will have a nice sleep
and inside my dream
i shall write the most beautiful poem in my life.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Of Cottons And Feathers
cottons are found
on the floor
feathers on the table
from the window
the wind blows and carries them
inside
the bed is well kept
blankets carefully folded
and pillows removed
of creases
something inside me is as light
as cottons and feathers
something inside me is well folded now
like blankets
something in my heart are pillows
removed of
any crease
i triumphed i did it
now i can soundly sleep
as the wind from the window
blows me
into the land of dreams
where i can be
nothing but
just the spectator
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Maiden's Secret
I have written this day down in my heart
As the sweetest day in the season;
From all of the others I've set it apart---
But I will not tell you the reason,
That is my secret---I must not tell;
But the skies are soft and tender,
And never before, I know full well,
Was the earth so full of splendour.
I sing at my labour the whole day long,
And my heart is as light as a feather;
And there is a reason for my glad song
Besides the beautiful weather.
But I will not tell it to you; and though
That thrush in the maple heard it,
And would shout it aloud if he could, I know
He hasn't the power to word it.
Up, where I was sewing, this morn came one
Who told me the sweetest stories,
He said I had stolen my hair from the sun,
And my eyes from the morning glories.
Grandmother says that I must not believe
A word men say, for they flatter;
But I'm sure he would never try to deceive,
For he told me---but there---no matter!
Last night I was sad, and the world to me
Seemed a lonely and dreary dwelling,
But some one then had not asked me to be---
There now! I am almost telling.
Not another word shall my two lips say,
I will shut them fast together,
And never a mortal shall know to-day
Why my heart is as light as a feather.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Be Light as a Feather
be light as a feather
do not go for a heavy face
or a heart that stores
sorrows
be not overwhelmed with
grief
these burdens
pull you towards the
grave
be light as a feather
be blown by the winds of change
into some happier lands
hover, drift, float
empty your mind
and heart
be so light as a new thought
that bewilders you
into another
comforting
fantasy
be light as a feather
have a good ride in air...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Sharp Contrast
at a friend's party
drinks are served and some
christmas food, dessert and
conversations and laughter
of reminiscenses
we left at the right hour
when the hosts are sleepy
time to be back
to my room,
in sharp contrast
the bed and the pillows
and blankets are
soundly asleep
no snores, not a scratch
of an ant's feet
not a sound from
the walls
deafening silence
questions without answers
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Alone in Silence
Alone in Silence
Christian U. Garan
As I walk along the aisle with trees side by side,
Not a single sound or dichotomous noise collide
My footsteps, I can even hardly recognize!
Silence traps me during that moment, I realize.
It seems that I am in the middle of my dream.
Controlled by my own mind while the world’s at rest in dim
I travel there with uncertainty deep inside
Then, silence blankets me and no one is there to guide
I want to run and shout but there’s no voice in me.
I wish I could flee from that unwanted fantasy.
Yet, the more I resist, the more the things go wrong!
What is it with silence that makes it a dreadful song?
Oh! Why should I feel in agony with silence?
Without seclusion, can I savor the life’s essence?
Then, I apprehend the intent of life’s muteness.
Silence fathoms the depth of our faith in His goodness.
poem by Christian Garan
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Sparrow
Who will love a little sparrow
Who's traveled far and cries for rest?
"Not I," said the Oak Tree
"I won't share my branches with no sparrow's nest
And my blanket of leaves won't warm her cold breast"
Who will love a little sparrow
And who will speak a kindly word?
"Not I," said the Swan
"The entire idea is utterly absurd
I'd be laughed at and scorned if the other swans heard."
Who will take pity in his heart
And who will feed a starving sparrow?
"Not I," said the Golden Wheat
"I would if I could but I cannot I know
I need all my grain to prosper and grow"
Who will love a little sparrow?
Will no one write her eulogy?
"I will," said the Earth
"For all I've created returns unto me
From dust were ye made and dust ye shall be
song performed by by Simon & Garfunkel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Crying Over You
I'm thinking in the early morning light.
I'm thinking of my lonely times at night.
And all my thoughts, what have they done?
Not a thing, not even one.
I'm trying to forget I'm missing you,
trying but impossible to do.
And all of my trying and crying over you
what has it done?
It's taken me through heartache and pain
that's driving me insane.
'Cause every little morning thing
that used to make my heart just sing
is silent inside of me.
And all those special nighttime things
that used to vibrate all my strings
are through. Can't you see?
I'll never stop my thinking,
never stop my trying
until I can stop my crying,
until I can stop my crying.
I'm trying babe, I'm really trying
but I'm still crying over you.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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An Empty Heart
burnt letter
ashed
on a hot air
it floats in the sky
this empty heart
of mine
slowly it lands
like a sparrow's feather
on the river
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The art of living
at the center of my room
delight
on fresh roses
like your
red lips
on my bed
soft and warm silk blankets
strawberry juice on the side table
and cherry on the
glass
the window is open
fresh air from the sea
cools the room
silence is gold here
and solitude is silver
every moment is
a moment
every hour is not a rush
but on softer touch
every inch of skin
is a caress
every thought is
beautiful
every reality is true
embracing and embraced
this is the art of living
every second a relaxation
sleep comes on cat's feet
like a cloud drifting away
peace in the corner
privacy in my door
and yes, love is always
air-conditioned.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Sentence
as you are praying in the altar
i am urinating in the CR
and then you fix the bed
folding the blankets and dusting off the pillows
i stop there for a while
for i have been thinking about dust
you think that i am catering in
to these deadly thoughts
or granting that they are not
why think of rest
when every idea of this world is always labeled
with activity
you run away
that is a good idea connoting always an action
you cry
that 's drama still watched by the masses
who like to shed tears for the star
of the show
there is no choice you tell me
except to surge
to invade
to move on
yes that is the sentence.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Light And Lightness Of Our Beings
let the soft light land on my face
let it stay there for a while
as i close my eyes
and lay myself in the lightness
of my being
my hands are soft as
the hair of a rabbit
my lips open
to let my tongue wet
its red sides
i am as light as a feather
lifted up by air
i become light myself
rising from the walls
and the ceiling
i am freedom from
sanity i am the conqueror
of the logical order
there are no numbers
just an open space
there are no days now
and neither do nights exist
i am eternal
and i am inside this
space beyond
any space
i am a ray of light
i am a shooting star
i am a black hole
i am lost and no one
shall ever find me
except you, the one i love.
you make me feel so light.
i am carried away.
hold me and kiss me.
i am all yours.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Cant Stop Thinking About You
Cant stop thinking about you
Cant stop thinking about you
Its no good living without you
I cant stop thinking about you
Cant stop thinking about you
Cant stop thinking about you
And its no good living without you
I cant stop thinking about you
When the night-time comes around
Daylight has left me, i
I cant take it if I dont see you no more
I cant help it, I need your loving so much more
And I cant stop thinking about you
Cant stop thinking about you
And its no good living without you
I cant stop thinking about
I cant stop thinking about
I cant stop thinking about you, ooh
Cant stop thinking about
Cant stop thinking about
Cant stop thinking about you
When the morning comes around
And the daylight gets to me, i
I cant take it if I dont see you no more
I cant help it, I need your loving so much more
And I cant stop thinking about you, oh yeah
I cant stop thinking about you
And its no good living without you
I cant stop thinking about
I cant stop thinking about
I cant stop thinking about you
I cant stop thinking about
Cant stop thinking about
Cant stop thinking about you
(repeat and fade:)
I cant stop thinking about
I cant stop thinking about
I cant stop thinking about you
song performed by by George Harrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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So It Will Be Taxes For The Meantime
so these weeks and for more other weeks perhaps
it will all be about taxes: allowable deductions, exemptions
and assessments, and avoidances and
perhaps evasions
be careful
be careful
do not be too gross in setting aside the poems from those
stack of notes and in depth-studies
something might go wrong
in your stock of metaphors
you need balance
have poetry during breaktime
and some more poetry before going to sleep
but i find poetry more useful
before i start my day with taxes and new laws and circulars
and even before i bang
my gavel
the poems seem to make the
reminders: this is life, this is humanity,
there is God and every man and woman and children
are his children and flock and friends
be careful
be careful
your poems shall judge you in time
and their Furies shall soon come and pull your hair
or the nymphs shall take you to the green valleys
by the side of the cool rivers
your conscience speaks to you
at night
your pillows your blankets
soon they will speak
what time is it? it's still 6: 36 in the morning here.
you see? i know that you know that i am true to what i am saying.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Beauty of Silence Reminds Me of You
It's silence,
I can let my thoughts free,
I can listen the flow of water, the leaves rustling, the breeze,
I can think of nice moments that we lived, you and me.
Silence is wrapping me,
I'm seeing your footprints in the sand as you go,
Washed away by the sea in its torment,
As the beautiful moments that we had and we have lost.
Silence is beautiful, makes time to stop,
Makes us relive those throbbing moments,
That we shared once,
That we'll never forget.
I adore silence,
Beauty of silence reminds me of you,
I thought of you in my silence,
Did you ever thought of me, my love?
poem by Cristina Teodor
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The Feather Of Yuri
if a dove leaves a feather
white,
pure,
it does not just tell you that
it was once here
it tells you also of another thing
that there is a good reason
for keeping
something like a memory
the sweet one
it does not tell you
to discard pain
but to remember everything
and learn
like you i am not a dove
does not speak the language of doves
does not have feathers
to leave for some people i love
to remember
but i have some pieces of me
some memories
some pieces of my mind and they are not feathers
though they may
like feathers be
light, soft, pure, and beautiful
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Dropping A Hello
i will dropp my hello
like a feather
gently to a little space
where you
are thinking like a
very clear pond
such a hello looks
like a geese
floating on water
and then
it leaves
but i hope that its departure
be like
a word that leaves your lips
like a whisper
life should be like that
nothing shattering like a broken
wine glass dropped
by a drunkard at the bar
everyone is looking.
who cares?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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