The State Of Non-meaning
so many sands
long term plans
so many grains of sands
on the beach on the mind of man
oh, i guess
so many poems composed
each poem has become a grain of sands
so many grains
from my mouth
to my hands to my feet to the beach to the sands of time
in search for meaning
when actually there is none.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Self-searching
we always want to spend
Independence Day on the beach
what is it that we want to be reminded of?
the sands? yes what about the sand?
the grains?
when we arrive there
the kids run to meet the sea with laughter
the sea breeze is salty yet cool
the trees are tall and big and shady
the silent sands are peopled now
we will be too busy with fun
feeling saved and going public with
all that happiness gives us
the silent sands look at us with a gaze
it has a record of the past
it has absorbed the memories of the sea
it looks at us with pity
what is it about the sands and their silence?
i think i know it but my friend you must find it yourself.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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How Many Grains Of Sand Are There On The Beach?
we are on the beach
it is a very bright and warm day
the coconut leaves are cooling us
the shade is comforting
the sands so white
the sea is crystal blue
the sea gulls are singing
colored fishes come up from time to time
hiding in the corals
if you want to know how many grains of white sands
are there on this beach
begin the count
for the meantime
we are taking our much needed plunge
we leave you for a while
enjoy yourself.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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My Friend You Must....
we always want to spend
Christmas on the beach
what is it that we want to be reminded of?
the sands?
yes what about the sand?
when we arrive there
the kids run to meet the sea with laughter
the sea breeze is salty yet cool
the trees are tall and big and shady
the silent sands are peopled now
we will be too busy with fun
feeling saved and going public with
all that happiness gives us
the silent sands look at us with a gaze
it has a record of the past
it has absorbed the memories of the sea
it looks at us with pity
what is it about the sands?
and their silence?
i think i know it
but my friend you must find it yourself.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sands Sift Between My Toes
If Fairy Dust could be sprinkled
Across the sands of time
It would undo all the harms I've done
To you and
To those and
Still to more of whom I do not know
But the fairies must have gone
Along with their magical dust
Instead of beaching under me
The sands drift over, around, and above
Grains gritting against my desperate pleas
I beg for them to take me
To the past
To the future
Unwilling, they say
It is here
Where I must stay
So here I have been left
To stand in stagnant air
Of guilt, of fear, of shame
Hand smacked each time I dare
To start life again with disengenuous flare
But blame the dust and sands I can't
Nor guilt, nor fear, nor shame
They are simply being true
To their birth, to their task, to their work
Inspired by these forces
I too must be true to
Whomever I am... or am not...
Or wish to...or wish not to be
In short, I must believe I add value
Just by me being me
As I think it, I can say it
As I say it, I can...
Reach out one more time
Eyes squinting recalling past smacks in my mind
This time mayhem does not make its way
No punishments doled
Despite the genuine truth be told
In its place a hearty laugh comes from the unknown,
'Go on about your life creature, for now you know.'
Suddenly, a quick of energy
Burst the black out of my soul
Leaving room for the dust of gods to enter
Waiting in ether for my true self to show
At this blessed moment
The sands of time stood still and fell
Allowing refuge from the pain
A flash of Self-Revelation
Joy be known
'Bless each tiny grain, '
as Sands Sift Between my Toes.
poem by Atty Davis
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Pre-Existence
I laid me down upon the shore
And dreamed a little space;
I heard the great waves break and roar;
The sun was on my face.
My idle hands and fingers brown
Played with the pebbles grey;
The waves came up, the waves went down,
Most thundering and gay.
The pebbles, they were smooth and round
And warm upon my hands,
Like little people I had found
Sitting among the sands.
The grains of sands so shining-small
Soft through my fingers ran;
The sun shone down upon it all,
And so my dream began:
How all of this had been before;
How ages far away
I lay on some forgotten shore
As here I lie to-day.
The waves came shining up the sands,
As here to-day they shine;
And in my pre-pelasgian hands
The sand was warm and fine.
I have forgotten whence I came,
Or what my home might be,
Or by what strange and savage name
I called that thundering sea.
I only know the sun shone down
As still it shines to-day,
And in my fingers long and brown
The little pebbles lay.
poem by Frances Darwin Cornford
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Summerday Sands
I once met a girl with the life in her hands
And we lay together on the summerday sands.
I gave her my raincoat and told her, ''lady, be good!
And we made truth together, where no one else would.
I smiled through her fingers and ran the dust through her hands ---
The hour-glass of reason on the summerday sands.
We sat as the sea caught fire.
Waited as the flames grew higher
In her eyes.
We watched the eagle born ---
Wings clipped, tail feathers shorn
But we saw him rise ---
Over summerday sands.
Came the ten oclock curfew.
She said, ''i must start my car.
Im staying with someone I met last night in a bar.
I called from my wave top ---
''at least tell me your name!
She smiled from her wheelspin
And said, ''its all the same.
I thought for a minute, jumped back on dry land ---
Left one set of footprints on the summerday sands.
I once met a girl with the life in her hands
And we lied together on the summerday sands.
song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sandy Toes Tickled Warm
Sands of time, sands of home, and sands of love
Sing such lovely songs to my well traveled
Sandy toes tickled warm Caribbean
Home –d and splashed with turquoise’s good sun
Foamy dances and lacey curls make public
Delicate beauty’s shells ~ bits of sea glass
Drifting barnacled treasures from above
Collected places, grains distance-d walked
Haulover, Melbourne, Sebastian, Peconic
Sanded estuaries, oceans and bays
Eternal tiny groundings filtering
Paths of His light, His times, home’s true heart
(Sweeping Memories, Tennessee
October 27,2006)
poem by Debora Short
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On Calais Sands
ON Calais Sands the gray began,
Then rosy red above they gray;
The morn with many a scarlet van
Leaped, and the world was glad with May!
The little waves along the bay
Broke white upon the shelving strands;
The sea-mews flitted white as they
On Calais Sands!
On Calais Sands must man with man
Wash honor clean in blood to-day;
On spaces wet from waters wan
How white the flashing rapiers play,—
Parry, riposte! and lunge! The fray
Shifts for a while, then mournful stands
The Victor: life ebbs fast away
On Calais Sands!
On Calais Sands a little space
Of silence, then the plash and spray,
The sound of eager waves that ran
To kiss the perfumed locks astray,
To touch these lips that ne’er said “Nay,”
To dally with the helpless hands,
Till the deep sea in silence lay
On Calais Sands!
Between the lilac and the may
She waits her love from alien lands;
Her love is colder than the clay
On Calais Sands!
poem by Andrew Lang
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The Sands Of Time
From the beginning of this own world,
man has shed a million tears.
Tears for the pain they've had
in their lives and for all the
wasted years.
But the saddest tears that
ever fell, fell not from
just any man's eyes. But
they were shed by my Savior
and they stained The Sands Of Time.
And as the Father looked upon His
Son, He had to turn His face away.
And as Jesus hung upon that cross,
He gave His all for us that day.
And as the tears ran down His face,
as He cried, mixed with the blood
that flowed from His side. Oh what
a sacrifice of love and it stained
The Sands Of Time.
Oh yes it stained The Sands Of Time.
It stained The Sands Of Time.
The blood that was shed for a lost
and dying world, oh yes it stained
The Sands Of Time, of time.
song performed by by LeAnn Rimes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Last Split Second
Sometimes in the heat of despair
we lost sight of perspective
It bends and curves and distorts
Like light round a black hole
and what we think of as truth is wildy out of proportion
yes the grains of truth are there running through the narrow waist of our preception
but each individual speck is not the beach, the beach is more than grains of sand
is this your last split second? will you spend it looking at a grain of sand or at the beach?
poem by Jilted BUTTERFLY
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Complete; Rising Crimson With Love
Do you remember the time we walked on the beach
to the sound of the surf as it beat at our feet
and the sun was rising crimson with love
as we walked hand in hand and flew like the doves.
Do you remember the feel of the wind in our hair
as we sat on the sands without any cares
and the tears in our eyes were for joy not for grief
as we sat and felt as one with the beach.
Do you remember the time we walked on the beach
to the sound of the surf as it beat at our feet
your heart was in mine and mine was in yours
as we walked hand in hand on those magical shores.
Do you remember the feel of the wind in our hair
as we sat on the sands without any cares
and we joined with the ocean that came to our feet
making us the beach and the ocean complete.
Do you remember the time we walked on the beach
with the healing, the feeling, of being at peace
the sand at our feet, the surf in our mind
an ocean of stillness in one heart that's combined.
Do you remember the feel of the wind in our hair
with our eyes full of stars our hearts without cares
and a sun that was rising crimson with love
as our souls were set free into the sky up above.
Do you remember the time we walked on the beach
to the sound of the surf as it beat at our feet
and the sun was rising crimson with love
as we walked hand in hand and flew like the doves.
poem by David Taylor
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God's Handy Hourglass
God waits in glory on His Throne,
The sands of time His slaves,
His Son the One who can atone
For each who misbehaves...
Though gradually the sand grains fall
Within God's hourglass,
His prophecies affect us all,
As each one comes to pass!
His special schedule offers grace
To those who would believe,
For holy healing can take place
In those who would receive...
And so He waits for Man to choose,
Eternal Life and more,
For both the Gentiles and the Jews,
Christ's Gospel can't ignore!
Each Christmas comes, each Christmas goes,
The grains of sand to change,
To snowflakes, thus each overflows,
To melt and rearrange...
The weeks and months and years roll by,
Then prophecies increase,
Upon the Earth, the sun, moon, sky,
Will wonders never cease?
Then suddenly the sands stay still,
While angels rally round,
As Christ now stands to serve God's will,
They hear the trumpet sound!
Then Heaven fills with saints galore,
When raptured in Christ's Name!
Then God's sands fall for evermore...
Man's destiny to claim...
Denis Martindale, copyright, February 2012.
We can hear the word of the Lord on
Revelation TV on UK Sky Digital 581
as well as the WATCH NOW link on
the revelationtv-dot-com website...
poem by Denis Martindale
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Insignificant
from among the sands on the shore i am but a single grain
of sand
insignificant
indistinguishable
in fact just like the rest i may just be
nothing
but if you really love me babes, as i have loved you
i will stand out from the rest of those billion grains
i am not a single grain anymore
i shall become
your sun your universe
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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From Among The Sands On The Shore I Am But A Singe Grain
from among the sands on the shore i am but a single grain
of sand
insignificant
indistinguishable
in fact just like the rest i may just be
nothing
but if you really love me babes, as i have loved you
i will stand out from the rest of those billion grains
i am not a single grain anymore
i shall become
your sun your universe
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Falling Sands Of Time
the falling sands of time
spend themselves like the way you lose yourself
bit by bit to the floors of waste
but you have your hands
and your eyes do not fail to watch
you have the power in your mind
to turn back the sundial
and let the sands of time recover themselves
all for you
giving back that confidence
for rebirth
always always there are beginnings
your heart shall tell
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Our State
THE South-land boasts its teeming cane,
The prairied West its heavy grain,
And sunset's radiant gates unfold
On rising marts and sands of gold!
Rough, bleak, and hard, our little State
Is scant of soil, of limits strait;
Her yellow sands are sands alone,
Her only mines are ice and stone!
From Autumn frost to April rain,
Too long her winter woods complain;
Fom budding flower to falling leaf,
Her summer time is all too brief.
Yet, on her rocks, and on her sands,
And wintry hills, the school-house stands,
And what her rugged soil denies,
The harvest of the mind supplies.
The riches of the Commonwealth
Are free, strong minds, and hearts of health;
And more to her than gold or grain,
The cunning hand and cultured brain.
For well she keeps her ancient stock,
The stubborn strength of Pilgrim Rock;
And still maintains, with milder laws,
And clearer light, the Good Old Cause!
Nor heeds the skeptic's puny hands,
While near her school the church-spire stands;
Nor fears the blinded bigot's rule,
While near her church-spire stands the school.
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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Back To Me...again...
Everything we see
Everyone we meet along the way
We embrace
All
Moment by moment
Familiarity
We are surely
Fed-up to all these
Cycles of acquaintances
Numbing our senses
Of letting go
Goodbye here and there
Until we do not know what it means again
Hellos that do not give surprises
Like counting the grains of
White sands
Of a faraway secluded beach
Enclosed now
I must prefer only this small room
Where
It is only me that fits
After all, I was born this way
Singled out by
Mother.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Sands Of Time
The trickling of sand has started now
for the moments we shall share.
There will not be enough time for us,
not enough time to spare.
Let's turn the hourglass over and over
so our time cannot run out.
For our love, my sweet is all that counts.
It's all I think about.
The sands of time one by one
are traveling much too fast.
How can we slow them down, my dear?
How can we make them last?
Yours is the heart that beats my life,
one beat at a time.
Yours is the mind that connects with me
one thought at a time.
And as we travel through our lives
those grainy sands still fall,
making me want to hang on tight
and stop them once and for all.
But life is movement and must go on
so take my hand and stay
close by my side through all our moments
as the sands of time fall away.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Old Poetry
i always come back
to your arms
i am not happy
but i have no choice
your arms are cactus
but i do not mind
i make most of what
imagination can offer
there will be sun
where there is none
i make rain
i also unmake them
everything are sands
in my hands
i open my fingers
as dams
sands trickle
waters pour
rivers form themselves
i make a mouth
where they can find
rest and be lost in the sea
this is what imagination is all about
one word: survival.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Love Sonnet 169 I Have Seen Sadness On The Prestine Sand
I have seen sadness on the pristine sand,
In faded footprints, you have failed to make,
More so that sands were once huge rocks, so grand,
Before this fate, that only sands could take:
To become the dunes, were dwelt my sorrow,
In dire stillness that aggravates my loss,
The craved tenderness, which you did not show,
That spawned a desert, much too wide to cross;
Though minute are the grains that slip my grasp,
Like truths that seep through a mind grief ridden,
Vicious as though rose harboring a wasp,
Thereby, in sweetness lurks its sting, hidden;
......Yet, your footprints did not last till evening,
......As blown sand covered your tracks of leaving.
.
poem by Reyvrex Questor Reyes
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