The Shape Of Solitude With The Red Ants
it is easy to become
a cloud
a mist and then even be
part of the dust
it is the shape of solitude
assuming the bursting of some past joys
it is this feeling of leaves falling
from a dead tree
silently reaching the dry ground
where the red ants are waiting
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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We Were Talking Under The Talisay Tree
we were talking under the talisay tree
about our future
one summer
when the leaves are brown
and falling to the ground
where the red ants
are busy taking their food
under a heap of
dry leaves
we will be there
to reach our destinies
but we may not be there
together
there is always a season for me
and for you
the wisdom lies in the waiting
the goodness in the waiting
and the beauty that we will see
lies in the content of our eyes
the tranquility of the pond
where the moss begins
to grow again
in stones.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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274
we were talking under the talisay tree
about our future
one summer
when the leaves are brown
and falling to the ground
where the red ants
are busy taking their food
under a heap of
dry leaves
we will be there
to reach our destinies
but we may not be there
together
there is always a season for me
and for you
the wisdom lies in the waiting
the goodness in the waiting
and the beauty that we will see
lies in the content of our eyes
the tranquility of the pond
where the moss begins
to grow again
in stones.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The children of the Mist
Through the valleys, softly creeping
‘Mid the tree-tops, tempest-tossed,
see the cloud-forms seeking, peeping
For the loved ones that are lost.
Not for storm or sunshine resting,
Will they slacken or desist,
Or grow weary in their questing
For the children of the mist.
Where are those children hiding?
Surely they will soon return,
In the gorge again abiding
‘Mid the myrtle and the fern.
Ah! the dusky forms departed
Nevermore will keep their tryst,
And the clouds, alone, sad-hearted,
mourn the Children of the Mist.
E’en the wild bush-creatures, scattered,
Ere they die renew their race,
And the pine, by levin shattered,
Leaves an heir to take his place.
Though each forest thing, forth stealing,
Year by year the clouds have kissed,
Vainly are those white arms feeling
For the children of the mist.
Dead the race, beyond awaking,
Ere its task was well begun;
Human hearts that throbbed to breaking
Are but dust beneath the sun.
Past all dreams of vengeance-wreaking,
Blown where’er the tempests list.
. . . . . . . .
But the cloud-forms still are seeking
For the children of the mist.
poem by Frank Dalby Davison
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Gravel On The Ground
(HuppMorrison)
If our lives could lie before us like a straight and narrow highway
so that we could see forever, long before we took the ride,
we would never look to heaven, make a wish or climb a mountain,
'cause we'd always know the answer what's on the other side.
But life ain't no easy freeway, just some gravel on the ground.
You pay for every mile you go to spread some dust around.
But we all have destinations, and the dust will settle down,
this life ain't no easy freeway, just some gravel on the ground.
So let's walk the road together, who knows what we'll find tomorrow.
Maybe good times, maybe sorrow will be waiting round the bend
Given time, two hearts discover what they're feeling for each other.
At the best we'll end up lovers, at the least we'll make a friend.
But life ain't no easy freeway, just some gravel on the ground.
You pay for every mile you go to spread some dust around.
But we all have destinations, and the dust will settle down,
But life ain't no easy freeway, just some gravel on the ground.
You pay for every mile you go to spread some dust around.
But we all have destinations, and the dust will settle down,
this life ain't no easy freeway, just some gravel on the ground.
song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Muzzle Of Bees
There's a random painted highway
And a muzzle of bees
My sleeves have come unstitched
From climbing your tree
And dogs laugh, some say they're barking
I don't think they're mean
Some people get so frightened
Of the fences in between
And the sun gets passed from tree to tree
Silently, and back to me
With the breeze blown through
Pushed up against the sea
Finally back to me
I'm assuming you got my message
On your machine
I'm assuming you love me
And you know what that means
Sun gets passed, sea to sea
Silently, and back to me
With the breeze blown through
Pushed up above the leaves
With the breeze blown through
My head upon your knee
Half of it's you, half is me
Half of it's you, half is me
song performed by by Wilco
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I’ve been waiting so long
I’ve been waiting
For so long
You’re coming
You’re sending
A message
You’re coming
You’re falling
You’re falling
To the ground
To the ground
I am waiting
I am waiting
You’re falling
You’re falling
To this ground
This ground
You are falling
I’ve been waiting
For so long
My arms my hands
My fingers
Have been waiting
For so long
You are falling
To this
Holy ground.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Falling Leaves
it is not the leaves you care about
but the falling
it is not that the trees have become leafless ribs
or that the thorns and scabs have become so visible
it is not
but the falling you want to know
how does falling fall how does this falling feel
the past that pains you
the present that you do not give space
the future that you refuse to dream
i see you falling falling and falling like the leaves
that you are seeing this summer afternoon
for whom you love
they leave like birds flying away from the lonely tunnel
where you have long resided
i see you hugging the fallen leaves
feeling what falling means
treasuring the failures unnecessarily
tonight i see no stars like you seeing none in the skies
black night silent night dead night
i got this last stick of this match
i light this cigarrette i sigh i live some more
i sleep i dream i have this candle still
that tomorrow i may begin to light
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Warrior Red-Ants
I crushed some warrior-ants to death,
And wondered what, others would do;
And very promptly, came more ants
To investigate scene of crime!
These ants build nests upon the trees,
By gluing leaves with strange substance;
Their nests look like army barracks,
With sentry-ants guarding smartly!
The dead ants lay all strewn about;
A few of them were moving still;
And very soon, they too lay dead,
Like soldiers killed in battle-field!
The scout ants went from ant to ant,
Perhaps in search of ones alive;
Some went back fast to convey news
About the tragedy they saw!
And very soon, arrived more ants
To check if dead were truly dead;
Somehow, these ants smelt death itself;
They did it so effortlessly!
Each one of them lifted the dead,
By proboscis and sped back home;
Each ant with carcass upon mouth,
Ran back as fast as legs carried.
And in a trice, the dead were cleared;
The scene of crime was clean by now;
The work was finished in moments;
Yes, ants are truly busiest!
Oh, what respect ants show their dead!
How fast they rescue comrades hurt!
They proved they respected their dead;
Do human beings do like-wise?
Copyright by Dr John Celes 5-15-2008
poem by John Celes
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A Redmption Of The Self
when i stand there
there was a dark cloud of shame
above my head
the cloud is heavy
and it poured
dismay
i am drenched with
humiliation
i fell like i am a tree with
wilted leaves
that keep on falling to
the ground
until i become nothing
but twigs
mere fingers of the hands
skeletal to the sky
i do not have those roots
that keep me strong
but then there is always that
redemption
ally to the sun
shall i be when tomorrow comes
i grow my leaves again
spread my roots
deeper than the
hands of the rivers
to the cracks of the earth
where gold resides
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Road On The Other Side
first there is the glass jalousie window
misty, that is what they are,
no one opens it
but soon i will to see the bushes
and then beyond this is the road
a cemented road constructed by
a Korean Company
the name is Hanjen,
and then i hear two things
the thumps of a buffalo's feet
there are four
because it is tied to a big tree
and then the sounds of leaves falling
and this is a feat
of awareness
hearing the sound of the wind
interacting with the veins of the leaves
the stalks vibrating a sound
to the leaves
on the ground
the songs of the ants
love calls
of the robin on the twig of the gemelina tree
its roots slowly crawling
against the light
seeking refuge in the hollowness of the soil
hearing still the silence of the worms
asleep and full.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Autumn
You called up late
Said you wanted to talk
I was afraid
Cause you spoke so softly
You took my hand
Slowly started to cry
I can't understand
Why our season went by
Why do leaves fall down from the sky
Is the tree not strong enough
You turned away
Slowly opened the door
Said you could not stay
You couldn't take it no more
It started to rain
Tears kept falling from the sky
It did not stop the pain
It did not stop the pain
Why do leaves fall down from the sky
Is the tree not strong enough
Now I fall on the ground
It did not stop the pain
It did not stop the pain
Why do leaves fall down from the sky
Is the tree not strong enough
Why do leaves fall down from the sky
Is the tree not strong enough
Now I fall on the ground
Now I fall on the ground
It did not stop the pain
It did not stop the pain
Why do leaves fall down from the sky
Is the tree not strong enough
song performed by by Green Lizard from Identity
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Reason To Be
So long, someone is waiting
I got places to go, I got things to see
No more procrastinating
For this is the moment that was meant for me
And I'm moving like a wave on the ocean
Drifting to the opposite ride
Traveling with no destination
Just riding the tide
People they say that I'm foolish
They say that I'm living in a fantasy
I say, everything's easy
It's better than living in futility
So, I'm standing here in back of the curtain
Waiting for the start of the show
Acting like an actor is easy
If you can let go
Someday something will find you
A magical feeling you could not foresee
A feeling so devastating
From that moment on your life's a comedy
And suddenly you're light as a feather
You're falling like a leaf from a tree
The things you thought you needed are fading
Your reason to be
song performed by by Kansas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Could It Be Love? Again?
if you challenge him
he will not answer you
acceptance for that challenge to be separate
lives on separate feelings
on separate beds and
can be as silent as feathers falling on a silk bed
then silently he turns into a line of red ants
taking slowly bits of leaves
from your hair
and some tiny grains in a secret place
of his heart
buried somewhere else that even his eyes that see
do not know
where is it exactly
where is it?
where is the new home of the
bleeding heart?
where can it rest finally when it is healed?
he does not tell you
he is building his dreams again
block by block into an
invisible tower reaching
another sky
orange and red
fusing into a
flaming hell
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Clouds
Yellow, glowing
Softness, soothing
There...never a sound,
Somewhere between
A cloud and ground
Between lips and thought
Somewhere where there is nowhere
Somehow when we don't know-how
Somewhat of an afterthought
As silently as a whisper
From an owl
In the darkest reaches
Of loneliness hidden in the
Corners of sorrow, hide tiny tears.
Painful tears
Too small to see streaks
Upon those cheeks
The cloud is all fluff,
Vapor and dust
Come cloud my memories
Away
April 1,2002
poem by Midnights Voice
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Bare-Limbed Tree
summer gone to dog days,
autumn approaches on a
strange wind....
i long to watch the leaves turn,
and fall, tiny love stories
that no one else can see.
and the sound the bare-limbed
tree makes... reaching for the sky,
reaching through winter for
the spring....
the smell of woodsmoke,
coffee and brandy by the fire...
a thousand memories turned
to brown, lost to eternal moments,
i am that bare-limbed tree!
reaching for the sky, reaching
for another spring.... reaching
through death, reaching for you!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Noots
today is too late
how long do we have to wait
oh no, i think she knows
that's why i can't let go
i feel this burning inside
a feeling that no one should know
this could be so good again
i'd wait here till then
but not with this
so now i'll leave with
no apologies
i never thought you'd be so
easily decieved
now i'll just hang my head (falling further out of place)
along with the dead (don't know what/why i can't replace)
we're mad with regret
memories that we'll both forget
so far it's been so hard
to cover up these scars
i see this falling apart
it's easy to just let it go
no luck between us both
so i keep waiting
but not with this
so now i'll leave with
no apologies
i never thought you'd be so
easily decieved
now i'll just hang my head (falling further out of place)
along with the dead (don't know what/why i can't replace)
what's left to show
it's so bad but i got to know
what's right don't know
how to find it out on my own
one by one we all fall down
who's the first one to hit the ground now
what's worse to kick or fall
or be suss standing alone
ill keep your promises if you
take back every thing i said
i find its got so cold now
that i've lost my heart and soul
no apologies
i never thought you'd be so
easily decieved
now i'll just hang my head (falling further out of place)
along with the dead (don't know what/why i can't replace)
i'll just hang my head
hang my head
song performed by by Sum 41
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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what do we do to Mother Earth?
do not burn
let the leaves fall to the ground
let them stay there
layer by layer
heap upon heap
let mother earth
hug all the leaves
let the affection be
strong and heavy
let the leaves die
and rot and become
water and become dust
to dust
let all of us see this dust
we shall do what mother earth
and nature loves best
to dust we shall return
and be its permanent part
close to the bosom
of mother earth
forever
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Ninth Symphony
A scented moon caves in
on a tree top
and solitude withers up in a seminal cloud,
It is good to be friendless sometimes.
Me and homecoming become synonymous.
We are ruined by familiar paths.
The mist deepens.
Not reaching anywhere.
I come out in dark to find the stars.
What will you do if the soul sneaks out of a body?
The wind starts a dirty dance.
A tall cedar scowls.
It starts raining,
fabulous as tears on an immaculate face.
Pull up the veil.
It separates the truth.
Do not filter the pain.
We may find a god.
poem by Satish Verma
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Litany
This is a litany of lost things,
a canon of possessions dispossessed,
a photograph, an old address, a key.
It is a list of words to memorize
or to forget–of amo, amas, amat,
the conjugations of a dead tongue
in which the final sentence has been spoken.
This is the liturgy of rain,
falling on mountain, field, and ocean–
indifferent, anonymous, complete–
of water infinitesimally slow,
sifting through rock, pooling in darkness,
gathering in springs, then rising without our agency,
only to dissolve in mist or cloud or dew.
This is a prayer to unbelief,
to candles guttering and darkness undivided,
to incense drifting into emptiness.
It is the smile of a stone Madonna
and the silent fury of the consecrated wine,
a benediction on the death of a young god,
brave and beautiful, rotting on a tree.
This is a litany to earth and ashes,
to the dust of roads and vacant rooms,
to the fine silt circling in a shaft of sun,
settling indifferently on books and beds.
This is a prayer to praise what we become,
'Dust thou art, to dust thou shalt return.'
Savor its taste–the bitterness of earth and ashes.
This is a prayer, inchoate and unfinished,
for you, my love, my loss, my lesion,
a rosary of words to count out time's
illusions, all the minutes, hours, days
the calendar compounds as if the past
existed somewhere–like an inheritance
still waiting to be claimed.
Until at last it is our litany, mon vieux,
my reader, my voyeur, as if the mist
steaming from the gorge, this pure paradox,
the shattered river rising as it falls–
splintering the light, swirling it skyward,
neither transparent nor opaque but luminous,
even as it vanishes–were not our life.
poem by Dana Gioia
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Moving and Dreaming: # 2
Out and in morning’s blue, moving up,
moving down dew-covered asphalt ground,
snaking around tree lined curves,
progressing in morning’s blue,
warm air embraces face and
moves around huddling bushes
ruffling chattering chickadees unsettling
them to wing;
still rocking heel on toe, leaning
briskly into curves, falling into dreams
of our first kiss that roused,
setting in motion all that is in spring,
half- bloom- youth holding hands under
yellow moon, rising from far east
giggles wash the shame-face cradling
in his waves
couldn’t help note heart yearning,
feeling love in night’s filled mist.
Bones lacking mass, wobbly legs...eye lids
falling like autumn's brown leaves.
Slouching nearer to sunset still. Desiring dawn.
Days are shortening. Summers gone.
Falling leaves absence life.
Feeling chilly. Append ills,
Icy tomb. You just wait!
These living feet still warm.
I’m ready-perhaps not prepared.
Still dreaming and moving…
poem by Almedia Knight Oliver
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