The Mouth Of The Sea
the sea this afternoon
is divided into two halves
parallel to each other
the brown part touches the shore
the one faraway is the
bluish one, deep and
silent,
once again, the mountain has reached
its destination through its river
swallowed by the mouth of the sea
into the depths of its silence
on this cycle of life
and then
unto death.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Divided Sea
after the flood subsides
the sea becomes divided
at the tip is deep blue
near the shore is the paleness
of the brown river
still confused
about what to do
somehow
the parting is gone
now the sea
is confident again
in peace
in the depths of its
blueness
in the joys of its
foams
as the seagulls dive
for its bountiful
fish
once again
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Silent River Part2
Sunday is a holiday
I'do again
I'makes again
The memories of the silent river
I'come again
To remember
I'have ever love and miss
Here in the silent river, silent so silence
The memories of the silent river
I'felt his love again in this river
I'felt his longing again in this river
I'felt his kindly again in this river
And i'see again his softly face in the water
In this silent river, silent so silence
The silent river
Makes me remember
I'miss again
the silent river
Makes me to get so many things
Sitting nearby silent river
Come to me the lonely
Come to me the long yearning
Come to me the tears
Come to me the rain
The silent river keep my memories good
In the silent river, silent so silence
Save me now, from all the dejected
To spin around all back
This silence is geeting on my nerves
Were i'am so afraid
You were to be lost in thought
And all was lost to me
Here in the silent river, silent so silence
You Know How Is It To Be Blue
you know how is it to be blue
you sailed once on top and you plunged
deep down under
the rage of the river
you know how is it to be inside
a certain darkness and silence
you know how is it be just a river
this will haunt us forever
you know how is it to be inside the cave
filled with water and rage and rampage
of stone and waves
you know how is it to be a river
flowing and going away
you know how is it to be bluer than blue
and foamy and angry
you know how is it to be deep just being deep
and it is enough for me and then you go away.
let me stay on the depths of these mysteries
i like the blueness of blue, the deepening of the deep
i like it here, deep and silent, even without you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Greed Of The River
brown to its existence the river as usual is silent
it borrows the sound of the slashing boat and from the time to time talks
it asks. 'where to boatman? '
but the boatman does not answer
he does not know how this river works how this river feels
it has taken people away
it has taken people back to their places
it has swallowed lives
and then in silence it sleeps
its belly full
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Two Silent People, Dying
you are silent
more silent than the stars above us
this mountain of
sorrow does not know the songs of sighs
it is as silent
as you
more silent than all the stars above us
i join you in this silence and i take a journey far from you
my thoughts are wings and they will not use words as vehicles
from my mouth there will be no sound too
what are we contemplating for? i ask myself.
you think of death, i know, but you have not guessed what i am thinking
i am tired of death, let it come when it comes,
i am thinking of those tiny things in my life
how they happen, how time flies too fast
and i am here with you left behind it like a hundred years
i go back to thinking about us bathing in the river
since we do not know how to swim we take hold of a driftwood
from nowhere
it teaches us how to swim
that driftwood from nowhere
and it is when that driftwood left us
that we struggle for our life
and then we have learned
how to drift, ultimately how to swim
we are here in the middle of this silent struggle
it is when it hurts best that we begin to learn how to think
how to think well more than the rest of those
who are not conscious of the shortness of the time left
it is here in the middle of our sorrow
that we become more intelligent, wisdom sprouts and grows
into a tree
in our heads, and we are soon carried to a height
where we see them all
away from us.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Faraway
What a state to be in
Its a world of indecision
So self destructive
And such an ugly business
In and out of fashion
You always leave your mark
An indefinite decision
A dangerous remark
** when youre cold and tired
Dont turn your head away
The distance thats between us
Gets bigger every day
* how come you never see
Youre as faraway as faraway can be
Youre as faraway as faraway can be
You try so hard to impress
You talk the telephone to death
Its what you cant see that counts
But you havent worked that out yet
There is no reason
There is no plan
The truth can be deceptive
From such a quiet man
Theres madness in your words
Not wishing to be heard
But just like yesterday
Youve already slipped away
(* repeat)
(** repeat)
(* repeat)
Youre as faraway as faraway
As faraway as faraway
As faraway as faraway
As faraway as faraway
As faraway as faraway
As faraway from me as you can be
song performed by by Abc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On Death
Then Almitra spoke, saying, 'We would ask now of Death.'
And he said:
You would know the secret of death.
But how shall you find it unless you seek it in the heart of life?
The owl whose night-bound eyes are blind unto the day cannot unveil the mystery of light.
If you would indeed behold the spirit of death, open your heart wide unto the body of life.
For life and death are one, even as the river and the sea are one.
In the depth of your hopes and desires lies your silent knowledge of the beyond;
And like seeds dreaming beneath the snow your heart dreams of spring.
Trust the dreams, for in them is hidden the gate to eternity.
Your fear of death is but the trembling of the shepherd when he stands before the king whose hand is to be laid upon him in honour.
Is the shepherd not joyful beneath his trembling, that he shall wear the mark of the king?
Yet is he not more mindful of his trembling?
For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun?
And what is to cease breathing, but to free the breath from its restless tides, that it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered?
Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing.
And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb.
And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance.
poem by Khalil Gibran
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Memories of a River
Each river has a bunch of stories to tell
The story of dreams failed
Of lost love
Of the burning truth and the hot smell
Of life real
The river even knew the pain
Of thoughts going parallel
With their hands never yielding to a touch
The injured lives
The deceit killed a heart
And the river knew it before
Lust reigned in one
And the river could see it in the eyes
And waited for the injured soul
Each day the river waited for the silent cries from afar
The sighs of the world thronged on its shore
And the delight of the paper boats,
Will it survive the sighs?
Again the monsoon came late
But the river was wet with memories
poem by Meenu Alex
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LIFE and DEATH
You would know the secret of death;
But how shall you find it unless you seek it in life?
The owl whose night eyes are blind to daylight,
Cannot unveil the mystery of light.
If you yearn to see the spirit of death,
Open your heart wide to the wonder of life.
For life and death are one, even as a river and sea are one.
In the depth of your hopes and desires lies your silent,
Knowledge of the great beyond;
And like seeds dreaming ‘neath the snow,
Your heart dreams of spring.
Trust your dreams, for in them is hidden the gate to eternity.
Your fear of death is but the trembling subject,
Waiting to be honored by his king.
Is the subject not joyful beneath his trembling?
That he shall wear the mark of the king?
Yet is he not more mindful of his trembling?
For what is it to die but to stand naked,
In the wind and melt into the sun?
And what is it to cease breathing,
But to free the breath from restless tides,
That it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered?
Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you sing?
And when you have reached the mountain top,
Then you shall begin to climb!
And when the earth claims your limbs,
Then shall you truly dance.
(Inspired by Kahlil Gibran)
ROTMS
ROTMS
poem by Ray Lucero
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Death XXVII
Then Almitra spoke, saying, "We would ask now of Death."
And he said:
You would know the secret of death.
But how shall you find it unless you seek it in the heart of life?
The owl whose night-bound eyes are blind unto the day cannot unveil the mystery of light.
If you would indeed behold the spirit of death, open your heart wide unto the body of life.
For life and death are one, even as the river and the sea are one.
In the depth of your hopes and desires lies your silent knowledge of the beyond;
And like seeds dreaming beneath the snow your heart dreams of spring.
Trust the dreams, for in them is hidden the gate to eternity.
Your fear of death is but the trembling of the shepherd when he stands before the king whose hand is to be laid upon him in honour.
Is the shepherd not joyful beneath his trembling, that he shall wear the mark of the king?
Yet is he not more mindful of his trembling?
For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun?
And what is to cease breathing, but to free the breath from its restless tides, that it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered?
Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing.
And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb.
And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance.
poem by Khalil Gibran
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No One Steps Twice On The River Of Life...
it is not the rage of this river.
when i was a child, as mother says,
i keep my finger inside my mouth
sucked by my throat, to keep hunger away
beside the bank of this river
i am the spectator
and the river believes in the magic
of my innocence
it flows always in a distant
affection,
it is not the rage of the river,
it is i, the grown up man who goes swimming
in the river and feel
the joys of its cool waters
always moving on towards
a destination
it is the swimming with a friend
and then
with a lover and then with a wife
and then my silence,
what we do not have we force to forget
it is the bathing in the river
the rinsing and the cleansing of the waters
it is not the rage of this river
and then we become too weak to be in this river
the river moves on and on
towards the deepest sea looking for the
opening
i wait by the bank of this river
many things have been missed
the more important ones
the one that gives the posterity of
my humanity
it is denied of me because of this river
that gives me nothing
all the while i was the leaf that fell off from
the tree
on the side of this river
and i floated because i have nothing to do
because i can do nothing about
the flow of the river
i become the dead leaf that the air
rides upon
tossed and bumped on boulders
till i sink
deep down the river
that i shall pass only once.
time.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A River Flows
Where does the river flow
if not to you?
How deep its depths
if these
are not yours?
How broad is the river bank?
Broad enough
for the tug-boats
to push my heart along.
If there are fish in the river,
they sing your name
open-mouthed,
fish-style,
making tiny bubbles float
up, up to the river surface
where they pop
spread
announcing to the Firmament
that Love lives just below
the deep river flows.
Yes, you and I
are the river;
we flow,
run deep
down to that
ocean-mix
in which
our souls
swirl.
Mix me then
in depths deep.
Mix you then
amid this ocean sweep
and all else,
for me
becomes meaningless
so great
is our Soul Mixed
Ocean Bliss.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Probablys (Life Poem)
Two halves would not be one,
If our paths had never crossed,
And we went our separate ways,
Where would we probably be?
Two halves on different paths,
But we were meant to be,
If not sooner than later, but
Where would we probably be?
Two halves in separate worlds,
Spinning apart never knowing,
They were meant to be one,
Where would we probably be?
Two halves would be unfulfilled,
Because if we’re apart too long,
I feel empty and lost in space,
Where would we probably be?
Two halves of two worlds collided,
When years ago you said yes,
Our worlds are meant to be one,
Where would we probably be?
Two halves became whole, and
The part of our lives apart, is not
Going to be that question of,
Where would we probably be?
poem by Ian Beckett
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I Remember Once When I Was A Little Child
i remember
when i was a little child
i once climbed a tree
to take a look of those
down below me.
i simply sit there
and feast my eyes
on the tall mountain
far away from me.
i see a winding river
flowing to the sea.
i see memories.
i am a little child.
i am the father of
that sadness that
i left behind a rock.
i am the image of
that little boy
behind your face.
i am not noise.
i am the silence
of a very faraway
memory on that
cone mountain over
there with a snow
cap.I am my
small world like
a bird perched on
a twig. A small patch
of green grass. A handful
of clouds drifting on
my shoulder. I am
a silent memory.
I am listening inside
my little corner.
This heart still
of a little boy.
Always wondering.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The poet and poetess II
The poetess
The night I met you something special happened
It was like a fusion of two stars in blue
They made the shivering nature to brighten
A concealed window opened and I saw you
The poet
It was a rainy day the clouds cried so hard
Until I felt my fire sparking inside
And you dashed my sadness when you crossed onward
I waited you all my life, please be my bride.
The poetess
I felt I really met you in before time
I knew you are my love when I touched your soul
This interchange of feelings is so sublime
As aurora borealis in North Pole
The poet
I'm all lost on the way your eyes swallowed me
When they drank my love thoughts you reached my whole heart
To be your lover is all I need to be
I reached my destination, I'm safe, sweetheart
The poetess
Without words you reached my heart and swallowed me
You're the one that I want, you're hungry for love
I feel secure with you, here I need to be
With closed eyes I followed your dreams from above
The poet
Your look is so soft as petals of the rose
I touch your red lips for long awaited feast
There I want to finish our poetic prose
Inside your deep elation I beat my beast
poem by Marieta Maglas
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Recognition: Now Your Silence Is Always Part Of Me
Now your silence is always part of me,
where you lie naked on the examination table
before they slice you open after your death
and much too quickly life frolics past
and now I want it so much differently.
Now your silence is always part of me,
with past moments that I cannot avoid,
when a holy man says some words from scripture,
before they slice you open after your death
and totally separated are you and I
where my hand rests on your breast,
now your silence is always part of me,
you that once full of life, carelessly free
could bind your love as a oath to me,
before they slice you open after your death
and I wonder what remains in these moments
where I have to lie down that, which had been between us,
now your silence is always part of me,
before they slice you open after your death.
poem by Gert Strydom
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What We Have Become
in the shallow part of the river
we decide to play: life is a game
we like to believe that
our arms drip like cold water
on the side of the glass
that you hold when you have felt
the first thirst
i shall not satisfy you
and so i have become the bait
of the fish
you have become more interested
on what i have to say
not to be mistaken as trivial
i have also taken more glances at you
i believe you
and so with this trust i ask you to go with me
to the deep part of the sea
i swim first then you follow
you know how to swim and you swim well in fact
like a fish
at the shallow part
i told you that nothing is hidden
nothing signifies anything
the stones are stones
and nothing else
your questions are just ordinary questions
which i have answered to well
and you believe me more until
we dive deep
deeper into the ocean floor
where the sands though silent
have more to say
than what i can tell you
the stones on the sides of the deep
now are telling you more
and you begin to understand
why for all those years
on that dry land
i have kept my silence
my distance.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Silent Girl [Reprise]
That silent girl broke my heart
That's her passing now
That silent girl I gave my love
It is her paid me with hurt
What would I say to this silent girl
When all she reply is silence
Maybe if I were to be a silent boy
I wound understand the tongue of silence
But I am no silent boy you see
But I love you like the waters in the sea
It flows and flows and never dries up
Please teach me to be a silent boy
So I can love you in silence
Share with you, your sweet and sad moments.
Silent girl of the river goddess
you are silent, I am silent,
Will you hear me?
poem by Efe Benjamin
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Bicycle
New world
New life
New model
I bought a bi cycle
It kept me well,
Saved my time and quickly
I reached my destination
Weekly I washed and changed oil
In the crowd I rang the bell
what a smooth riding
But when i stop
It dis balances
So keep moving
To enjoy life and riding!
poem by Abdul Wahab
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I Remember When My Mouth Was Full
and i too remember when my mouth was full
i still wanted to talk
to you, there was this thought that keeps on bugging me
and it was for you,
that time, when my mouth was full, i wish i could talk
intelligibly, but how could i? when what i had was everything
kept within the four corners of my mouth,
sealed by the fence of my teeth, and the lock is in my tongue,
and my lips, they keep closing, keeping what palatable food was there.
i vomited. no, i did not.
i swallowed them all, Hook
line and sinker. i forgot that i am human.
i thought i was a fish. there were bubbles.
there was that river that swallowed me.
and it too did not talk,
now, i am talking to you. and you are listening.
then what? i have nothing to say.
i am empty.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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