The Need For Affirmation
how i tried to be just myself in the corner
like a stone
but it is not at all possible
i am not just a stone
i am a worm
how i wish just to wriggle
and live in that
small leaf
but it is not at all possible
i am a butterfly
how i wish just to flutter
from one flower to
another
but it is not at all possible
i am a bird
how i wish to be just a bird,
a cloud, the sun, the moon
or the thousand stars
and then i become
a man
and it is enough
you just called my name
and it is perfectly a good beginning
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
Early bird
Early bird
catches worm.
Small bird sing earlier
Bird that see first
Break the dawn.
The bird tells
How to be a winner
In the long run.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Red Butterfly
Watch, see, with glee
flitting fast past a tree
Children chase, hear their cry
'Flutter by,
butterfly'
Red as sunset on the beach,
somehow always out of reach
Velvet wings whisper, wry
'Flutter by,
butterfly'
Blood heart, ruby gem
Floats in a secluded glen
So still lands, no leaf awry
'Flutter by,
butterfly'
Flame-wings on bough so green
as in close, they do lean
So still a crimson does it lie
'Flutter by,
butterfly'
Vivid red, in spring the led
Antennae tip on scarlet head
Whirl up to a diamond sky
*butterfly,
flutter, bye'
poem by Kathleen Grigsby
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The Example
Here's an example from
A Butterfly;
That on a rough, hard rock
Happy can lie;
Friendless and all alone
On this unsweetened stone.
Now let my bed be hard
No care take I;
I'll make my joy like this
Small Butterfly;
Whose happy heart has power
To make a stone a flower.
poem by William Henry Davies
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Butterfly
Oh, butterfly, butterfly,
why do you flutter by?
Why can not you fly straight,
and have any weapons to fight?
Where do you get so much colour?
Can I buy one, how much in dollar?
Why do you have two lives?
Can I get one, please!
I want to transform mine,
To overcome human crisis,
Through the mysterious morphosis.
I want to be you, O! Butterfly,
From flower to flower to flutter by.
poem by Abdul Wahab
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To Turn The Stone
The moon retreats behind a silver cloud
As darkness throws its cloak towards the earth
And mystery replaces what thought we knew
To turn the stone, to turn the stone
The one dimension only shows one side
But do we see the same through different eyes
As you and I peer into lifes kaleidoscope
To turn the stone, to turn the stone
Eternal sands of time shift endlessly
Behind a veil of motionless disguise
An eyelid flash is all it really seems to need
To turn the stone, to turn the stone
To turn the stone, to turn the stone
song performed by by Donna Summer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Loquacious
this afternoon, i talk a lot, and the more i talk,
the more words flowed from my mouth, the more i become less
of myself,
that is the irony of talking, the more i empty myself of this burden
using words, the lighter i become, the more useless i become of myself,
words and more words,
the more i have of them, the more meaningless my thoughts have become
and they who are listening have become more silent than ever,
i know, their minds are somewhere else, and i know that they know
that there is this spirit in front of them so restless,
wriggling like a worm, jumping like a horse, flapping like a bird
wanting to get rid of something: the fruit wanting to be free from the worm,
the horse from a gadfly, and the bird from the pricking flea....
what else can they say? they must have been saying.
we perfectly understand, we have been there, we were once a fruit
with a worm in our pulp, a horse with a gadfly in our tail,
a bird unable to get rid of the flea....
we were rotten once, we jumped the more, and now we are flying away.
what a life we have, we are never free, and we are never for even once
comfortable with what we are and what we have....
what we do not have of course, is what bothers us the most.
be it a horse, a bird, or a fruit, a flea, a worm, a gadfly of old
like what Socrates once mentioned before he took the fatal poison.
well he died, and here we are always trying to remember.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I Am The Stone In The Horse's Shoe
I AM THE STONE IN THE HORSE'S SHOE
I am the stone in the horse's shoe,
The unwanted present that's no longer new,
I am the garden where the grass has died
And I am the tears that I cried.
I am the crust on the side of the plate
The left-over pieces that no one ate,
I am a shell washed in with the tide,
I am the echo after you lied.
Oh I am the heart that was beating with love
For the sun and the moon and the stars above,
I was the girl with wings of a bird
The one for whom it seemed that you cared.
But now I'm the stone in the horse's shoe,
Wave me farewell and kiss me adieu.
poem by Lesley Diane Sutherland
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It Is Natural.....
when you say that you love me
i do not really believe you
your hands wrap my neck like
some kind of steel chains
and then you plant a kiss on my hair
there is nothing there that grows
it is like a stone that you hit a bird with
and the bird falls from the branch of a tree
dead on the ground
and then you dismiss it as something
natural, birds die
stone hits.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Because I cannot sleep
Because I cannot sleep
I make music at night.
I am troubled by the one
whose face has the color of spring flowers.
I have neither sleep nor patience,
neither a good reputation nor disgrace.
A thousand robes of wisdom are gone.
All my good manners have moved a thousand miles away.
The heart and the mind are left angry with each other.
The stars and the moon are envious of each other.
Because of this alienation the physical universe
is getting tighter and tighter.
The moon says, 'How long will I remain
suspended without a sun?'
Without Love's jewel inside of me,
let the bazaar of my existence be destroyed stone by stone.
O Love, You who have been called by a thousand names,
You who know how to pour the wine
into the chalice of the body,
You who give culture to a thousand cultures,
You who are faceless but have a thousand faces,
O Love, You who shape the faces
of Turks, Europeans, and Zanzibaris,
give me a glass from Your bottle,
or a handful of being from Your Branch.
Remove the cork once more.
Then we'll see a thousand chiefs prostrate themselves,
and a circle of ecstatic troubadours will play.
Then the addict will be freed of craving.
and will be resurrected,
and stand in awe till Judgement Day.
The Silence Of Stone (revised)
take a stone,
from the beginning it was
a stone in form
and color and smell
and stone to stone
it shall be stone
unless you take it
in your hand
and keep it warm
in the hold of your palm
and take it home with you
you talk to it
and then it becomes
beyond itself
now
it is not just a stone
but your beloved
your lover
you will discover
that its silence also speaks
in tongues
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Existence First, Then Essence
take a stone,
from the beginning it was
a stone in form
and color and smell
and stone to stone
it shall be stone
unless you take it
in your hand
and keep it warm
in the hold of your palm
and take it home with you
you talk to it
and then it becomes
beyond itself
now
it is not just a stone
but your beloved
your lover
you will discover
that its silence also speaks
in tongues
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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What Now Little Bird?
what now little bird?
you look around you
the nest is empty
and mother bird is far away
and siblings
have taken the first jump
to the pond
to learn to float
and then
fly
you think that mother-bird
comes back
to feed you with another worm?
no, little bird
no one is coming back for you
you do not even
know if you have a father-bird
to save you
no, little bird
do not wait
do not waste your time
the sun shines
and it is time
for you to go too
fly now
little bird
find the real meaning of your wings....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Your Struggles And My Own
we climb this cliff
and up there let us see
what is best for us
you think about something else
like jumping off
while i stay and ponder
about the meaning of the
climbing the significance
of cliffs
if you jump off and you
think you fly away like a bird
just like that
that is your choice
if i remain here like
a stone or a vine or a worm
and think that there is something here
worth the stay
that is my choice too
oh, you fly away like a bird
and i am left
with all the guilt you are leaving me
how can you be so
treacherous and so unkind?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Rainy Day Women #12 & 35
Well, they'll stone ya when you're trying to be so good,
They'll stone ya just a-like they said they would.
They'll stone ya when you're tryin' to go home.
Then they'll stone ya when you're there all alone.
But i would not feel so all alone,
Everybody must get stoned.
Well, they'll stone ya when you're walkin' 'long the street.
They'll stone ya when you're tryin' to keep your seat.
They'll stone ya when you're walkin' on the floor.
They'll stone ya when you're walkin' to the door.
But i would not feel so all alone,
Everybody must get stoned.
They'll stone ya when you're at the breakfast table.
They'll stone ya when you are young and able.
They'll stone ya when you're tryin' to make a buck.
They'll stone ya and then they'll say, "good luck."
Tell ya what, i would not feel so all alone,
Everybody must get stoned.
Well, they'll stone you and say that it's the end.
Then they'll stone you and then they'll come back again.
They'll stone you when you're riding in your car.
They'll stone you when you're playing your guitar.
Yes, but i would not feel so all alone,
Everybody must get stoned.
Well, they'll stone you when you walk all alone.
They'll stone you when you are walking home.
They'll stone you and then say you are brave.
They'll stone you when you are set down in your grave.
But i would not feel so all alone,
Everybody must get stoned.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Stinking Fool In The Pool
sometimes
the heart is also heavily loaded
like a cloud gathering mist
and shall in any moment
rain
sometimes
you lose control about what you are carrying
something slips away
and no matter how you pick it up
you can never hold it back
sometimes what is wingless
turns otherwise
a stone turns into a fish
just to lose itself
from its prison
sometimes i fell just like that
heavily loaded and i want to have the wings of any bird
just to get away from
what is here
from what is unfortunate
from what is miscalculated
from something that i can change
and be simply away from it all
sometimes there is no choice
however
except to stay and be numb and be no bird
but a
stone
deep in that muddy and murky pool
stinking like any
other fool
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Nectar Sweet
My humming bird heart
beats for you
faster still with you in sight;
but you my flower
elude me.
I flutter
mid-air in flight
above other flowers
but no nectar drips from my beak's visit;
no matter how far I plunge
toward some flower's-center
it's not yours, and I retreat.
I pause,
flutter away
without that sweet juice of yours
I crave.
Possessing it is my Obsessions' Obsession.
Nothing deters my eye
from my flower-mission;
neither cat
nor rival bird
challenge me
when they espy my determined ire,
as I put my sharpened beak on display,
exhibiting to them my humming bird speed
and my reckless need.
No, they shrink
away
with second thoughts
and leave me to my nectar quest.
Some flowers are beautiful,
but none so beautiful as yours;
this is set in me for all time-
even if I,
nectarless,
become weak and falter-
no longer able to fly
and plunge spiraling to the ground;
I will have you my sweet
or no nectar at all.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Gibberish
Many a flower have I seen blossom,
Many a bird for me will sing.
Never heard I so sweet a singer,
Never saw I so fair a thing.
She is a bird, a bird that blossoms,
She is a flower, a flower that sings;
And I a flower when I behold her,
And when I hear her, I have wings.
poem by Mary Elizabeth Coleridge
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When You Start To Talk About Nothing
the moment you start to talk about nothing
mind you, this nothing becomes something
and this something becomes something more
like a raindropp falling becoming a worm
the worm becoming a fish
the fish becoming a bird
the bird becoming a man
smaller ones taking bigger shapes
until it becomes a part of you
until it becomes you
until it becomes something bigger than you
all it takes is just a simple beginning
and you making meaning shaping bigger things
more than yourself
more than you can ever think of at the end
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Heart Of Stone
A broken wing, and a broken bone
Of a bird, that met a stone
Lied helpless And was bit despair
Looked above If god was there.
Short of food And short of breath
Was silently waiting For his death
Asked his wings If they could fly.
Yes they said why don't you try
He gathered his strength and wiped his tears.
And soon he stood Without his fears
His eyes stared at the Dark blue sky
But just then when he was about to fly
they grabbed his neck they grabbed it hard
with all his strength he could move a yard
and yes those hands did hurt his bone
he had met a heart of stone
some ugly hands and a beautiful bird.
He cried for help But no one heard.
His wings were flawed And his muscles were stiff.
He begged them to throw him off a cliff
oh dumb bird, don't you get,
look at you, it's a stone you met.
To this, the half dead bird replied
So what, if I die
Just for once I ll meet the air.
And also see if god was there.
Stories of wisdom, that were once told
But now this world had been so cold.
He wished if those blind eyes could see.
The bird was dead though his soul was free.
poem by Kanav Justa
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David Ap Gwillam At The Mass Of The Birds
THE Thrush, the Lark, and, chief, the Nightingale,
With one small bird whose name I do not ken,
Offered a Mass; the little bird was clerk,
At intervals he struck his silver bell.
The stars above that were but whitened then
The candles were; the altar was a stone;
Myself was there, with meet observances
Hearing the Mass the birds said in the dell.
It was the Lark who sang in dark's decrease
Kyrie Eleison; then the Nightingale
The Consecration chanted solemnly.
(The silver bell was rung for him in chief.)
And then the Thrush, the dweller in the vale,
Orate Fratres sang how near, how clear!
The Thrush it was who, as the sun appeared,
Held up the Monstrance, a dew-circled leaf!
poem by Padraic Colum
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