The Thing In Itself
a white chicken
egg
on top of porcelain
saucer
beside
a silver spoon
the mahogany table is
one legged
with a big
round base keeping it
balanced
amidst this elliptical space
up the ceiling
is a round 220 bulb
lending light
to the room
the white egg stands
like a zero
above a underline
we let our gaze
stroll at the bridge
of our nose
we listen
how these things in themselves
relate to us
without words.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
The White Saucer
if i only see
a white saucer
on the table
it always spells
to me
the word
incomplete
without the
white
porcelain cup.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lunch Is Ready
you must have read before
that when a man is made to choose
between lunch
and poetry
he must choose lunch
it is 12: 20 noon
and if you wish
please finish this poem for me
make it say something
about hunger
the pinch in the stomach
the lack of guts
the impatience about life
for the meantime
i'll take what is offered on the table
i still have to chew
another idea that is fed in my mind
another poem
shaped like a fried chicken
scents of lumpia shanghai
images of white rice
exuding some fumes in
the light to the ceiling
clinking sounds of silver spoon and fork
and flowing clear drinking water
in the glass
in a whoosh
and the usual conversations
of sweet nothings
displayed on the table
like a soup
of bird's nest
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The White Room
Spanna noo na noo na ne na naho
Spanna noo na ne ne naho
Spa noo na naho
Noo na naho
Noo na naho
Spa noo na naho
Spanna noo na noo na noo na naho
Spanna noo na noo na nehhey
Spa noo na nehhey
Noo na naho
Noo na naho
Spanna noo na noo na ne na naho
Spanna noo na ne ne naho
[more spa na noo ne na noo things]
Talk to me, talk to me
If you want to know the things we see
Then step inside our skins
The white room, the white room
We spin, we turn, watch and wait
As the world just creeps on bye
The white room, the white room
Ooohhaaa
Talk to me, talk to me
Far below, a small boat sails,
Catching fish from the sea.
The white room, the white room
We climb the mountain,
Feel the wind,
We climbed to touch the stars.
The white room, the white room
Ooohhaaa
The white room, the white room
[more spetta na noo ne na noo things]
The white room, the white room
The white room, the white room
[more spetta na noo ne na noo things]
The white room, the white room
song performed by by KLF
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Stranded At The Moonbase
A long way up in light-years,
Just a pinpoint in space,
In a century of planetary storms,
Stranded at the moonbase,
The air is getting low.
The air is getting low.
Looking out at the roof-window,
I've seen many strange things,
From shooting stars to Stars 'n' Stripes
Thought I'd caught a glimpse of golden wings.
The air is getting low,
The air is getting low,
The air is getting low,
The air is getting low.
I got the vision of a big white dove.
I've heard the creaking of the pearly gates above.
I'm wond'ring why the big white dove
Is keeping me waiting, keeping me waiting,
Keeping me waiting, keeping me waiting,
Keeping me waiting, keeping me waiting.
Looking way down below me,
The worlds are all awhirl-whirly.
Won't you come along beside?
This place waits for company.
The air is getting low.
The air is getting low.
I leave my limbs behind me.
As I'm being lifted
Out into the, into the
Spiritual boom-boom abyss.
The air is getting low.
The air is getting low.
The air is getting low.
The air is getting low.
I got the vision of a big white dove.
I've heard the creaking of the pearly gates above.
I'm wond'ring why the big white dove
Is keeping me waiting, keeping me waiting,
Keeping me waiting, keeping me waiting,
Keeping me waiting, keeping me waiting.
song performed by by Kate Bush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Into White
I built my house from barley rice
Green pepper walls and water ice
Tables of paper wood, windows of light
And everything emptying into white.
A simple garden, with acres of sky
A brown-haired dogmouse
If one dropped by
Yellow delanie would sleep well at night
With everything emptying into white.
A sad blue eyed drummer rehearses outside
A black spider dancing on top of his eye
Red legged chicken stands ready to strike
And everything emptying into white.
I built my house from barley rice
Green pepper walls and water ice...
And everything emptying into white
song performed by by Cat Stevens
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Round Table
we have this round table
and we put all our hands
on it when we eat and
drink and just talk for
hours and hours and
listen. And we ask what
is happening: Karding
broke a leg and Delia
is looking for the money.
Always it is the money.
Always she is short of
the money. And there
were jewelries hanging
on her neck and arms
and fingers, and we all
ask at this round table:
what is happening?
Nothing, don't mind at
all, this is just a part of
the round table, some
wine glass that broke
and must be swept at
once. We keep away the
sound of a crying pig.
We eat pigs here at this
round table. Then we shifted
the talk about our dead
parents. We pray. We
remember we keep on
saying this. We finish eating
the pig. We drink a very
cold water. Our throats
are irritated and we step
out of the room wanting
to pull away our tongues.
when we come back the
round table is empty.
and we laugh about a
joke that we remember.
our childhood games
the river, and the boat
that father made for us.
we turn off the tv and we
begin to talk about the
beautiful flowers in mother's
old garden, the secret one.
we agree. we miss it.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rejoice
(jon anderson)
Rejoice forward out this feeling
Ten true summers long
We go round and round and round and round
Until we pick it up again
Time flies, on and on it goes
Thru the setting sun
Carry round and round and round and round
Until it comes to carry you home
Rejoice forward out this feeling
The white eagle soars
He goes round and round and round
Until the early winds of change
Dawns new light conquering timeless ease
Spread the harvest breeze
Let our hour of passion
Gently hold our heads on high with you
Gently hold our heads on high
song performed by by Yes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Those Kept On The Bottom Relate
Those kept on the bottom keep keeping on.
Those kept on the bottom keep keeping on.
Those kept on the bottom keep keeping on.
Those kept on the bottom,
Relate.
Keeping patience for them,
Has a message to send.
'Cause,
People feel more pinned in.
'Cause,
Struggles for them don't end.
'Cause,
Promises don't pay the rent.
Or decisions not to eat,
Because they wish to look thin.
Those kept on the bottom relate.
Those kept on the bottom relate.
Those kept on the bottom relate.
Those kept on the bottom,
Relate.
Those kept on the bottom keep keeping on.
Those kept on the bottom keep keeping on.
Those kept on the bottom keep keeping on.
Those kept on the bottom,
Relate.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Round Room
My room is round when I lay down, when I wake up it's square
When I go outside it's on a spiral set of stairs
The people that surround me are waiting out there
In a round room they can't find me anywhere
Right angle rooms drive me crazier each day
Put me in a box I know I'm never going to play
Put me in a square room and I won't know what to say
I want a round room at the end of the day
I had an apartment, four corners on the walls
Couldn't eat, couldn't sleep there at all
I want a curve to the place where I stay
I want a round room at the end of the day
If I pass out take me to the round church
Where echoes resound
And my spirit is found
And when I float high
Take my arm and I'll fly you by
The outskirts of town, to a garden that's round
I went to the lighthouse and I liked the view
I looked out the window and I could see you
Put me in a square house and I won't have a clue
I want a round room just to be with you
song performed by by Phish
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rocket Science
My little boy once asked me
"Mummy, what is space?
Is it all just empty? "
I looked into his face.
I hesitated somewhat
before I gave reply
for I am not a scholar
and that is rocket science.
My answer was as follows,
you may not agree,
but my little boy was satisfied
and comforted by me.
I told him "there are moons,
stars and comets too,
but we just cannot see them
from our sitting room.
If we could switch a light on,
in space, just like at home,
We might see wondrous things,
but, for now, we just don't know.
Imagine for a moment
in this room, right where we are
A light bulb is the sun
and we are all the stars.
If we turn out the light
there's nothing we can see,
but when we turn it on again,
we see many things.
I often think that space
is like our pitch black room,
and one day men will light it
and it may be quite soon! "
My little boy looked up
at the big night sky outside
and said, "I understand now mum"
and rubbed his sleepy eyes.
I really hope I satisfied
his curiosity and one day
when he's grown up
he'll explain it all to me.
poem by Ruth Walters
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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She'll Be Comin' Round the Mountain
She'll be comin' round the mountain,
When she comes.
She'll be comin' round the mountain,
When she comes.
She'll be comin' round the mountain,
She'll be comin' round the mountain,
She'll be comin' round the mountain,
When she comes.
She'll be drivin' six white horses,
When she comes.
She'll be drivin' six white horses,
When she comes.
She'll be drivin' six white horses,
She'll be drivin' six white horses,
She'll be drivin' six white horses,
When she comes.
Oh we'll all go to meet her,
When she comes.
Oh we'll all go to meet her,
When she comes.
We will kill the old red rooster,
We will kill the old red rooster,
And we'll all have chicken and dumplin',
When she comes.
poem by Anonymous Americas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The White Room
(SpringfieldVallance)
I can see her at her windows watching,
locked away inside her skin,
I can see her but I can't get to her, she won't come out,
and she won't let me into
The white room (she's living in)
Lying alone til she comes undone
In the white room, she burns for the real thing.
But it won't come.
In her head is the same obsession
and all the bottles and pills won't heal her heart.
She heard his last confession
and every word just tears her apart
In the white room (locked away)
doing time till her time is done
In the white room there's so much to say
but the words won't come.
Come back to the land of the living,
when you gonna break the chain,
there's so much too much that you're leaving
and you're never gonna stop the rain
In the white room.
waiting for the call that never comes
in the white room, she awaits.
Look at something long enough you'll find,
that the splinters and the cracks begin to show,
I'll be the first in line when the walls start falling
and she lets go of
The white room (it's late)
living alone only makes you numb
In the white room she burns for the real thing
but it won't come
In the white room (she's living in) I think its time
that you're time is done,
In the white room she burns
In the white room (it's late)
lying alone till she comes undone
In the white room she awaits
In the white room
song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You Found My Way
you cook so well
and i am so
anticipating about
the new menu
on the white
porcelain plate
beside the
silver spoon
and fork
and the corrugated
knife fit for
the medium rare
steak
more rice please
more lemonades
and lots of
lettuce for the
salad
a ripe mango
and alligator
pear
on a platter
lady, you found your
way into
my belly.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Im Not The One
Im not the one
That youll be shootin for
Im not the one
Whos coming back for more
(you know why)
Weve been through this so many a-times
(you know why)
Its never clear its pantomime
Goin round and round
(round and round)
cause you cant get on your feet
Goin round and round
(round and round)
Still takin all the heat
Goin round and round
(round and round)
Never lettin down
Im not the one
Whose memory you still keepin
Im not the one
Whos talkin in your sleep
(you know why)
I dont have to tell you twice
(you know why)
Knew you when you werent so nice
Goin round and round
(round and round)
cause you cant get on your feet
Goin round and round
(round and round)
Still takin all the heat
Goin round and round
(round and round)
Never touchin down
Im not the one
That youll be breakin in
And Im not the one
That youll be takin in
(you know why)
Tried and tried to crack the shell
(you know why)
When you fake its hard to tell
Goin round and round
(round and round)
cause you cant get on your feet
Goin round and round
(round and round)
Still takin all the heat
Goin round and round
(round and round)
cause you cant get on your feet
Goin round and round
(round and round)
Still takin all the heat
Goin round and round
(round and round)
(round and round)
Goin round and round
(round and round)
(round and round and round and round)
Goin round and round
(round and round)
(cause you cant get on your feet)
Goin (round and round)
(still takin all the heat)
(round and round)
(cause you cant get on your feet)
(round and round)
(still takin all the heat)
(round and round)
(cause you cant get on your feet)
(round and round)
(still takin all the heat)
[fade]
song performed by by Cars
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Am Gone (Stream II)
Your elliptical argument
That spins mathematical in the air,
Air vent, air wear,
So much hot air.
Vented through the vent,
Out into the atmosphere.
Adds to global warming
as you warm to your argument;
Which now becomes round,
doing the rounds.
Sounds of round vowels,
Making me howl
Like a howling dog.
Howling in the hurricane
of your torrent.
Like a Waterfall,
The water falls,
And I fall and I,
I am turned to stone,
Stoned by your medusa gaze.
I am fazed.
Stopped stone dead in that gaze,
Am erased.
No longer extant,
I disappear,
Dissipate into the air,
Become thin air,
Am gone.
poem by Paul Brookes
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Thompson’s Lunch Room—Grand Central Station
STUDY IN WHITES
Wax-white—
Floor, ceiling, walls.
Ivory shadows
Over the pavement
Polished to cream surfaces
By constant sweeping.
The big room is coloured like the petals
Of a great magnolia,
And has a patina
Of flower bloom
Which makes it shine dimly
Under the electric lamps.
Chairs are ranged in rows
Like sepia seeds
Waiting fulfilment.
The chalk-white spot of a cook’s cap
Moves unglossily against the vaguely bright wall—
Dull chalk-white striking the retina like a blow
Thru the wavering uncertainty of steam.
Vitreous-white of glasses with green reflections,
Ice-green carboys, shifting—greener, bluer—with the jar of moving water.
Jagged green-white bowls of pressed glass
Rearing snow-peaks of chipped sugar
Above the lighthouse-shaped castors
Of grey pepper and grey-white salt.
Grey-white placards: “Oyster Stew, Cornbeef Hash, Frankfurters”:
Marble slabs veined with words in meandering lines.
Dropping on the white counter like horn notes
Through a web of violins,
The flat yellow lights of oranges,
The cube-red splashes of apples,
In high plated épergnes.
The electric clock jerks every half-minute:
“Coming!—Past!”
“Three beef-steaks and a chicken-pie,”
Bawled through a slide while the clock jerks heavily.
A man carries a china mug of coffee to a distant chair.
Two rice puddings and a salmon salad
Are pushed over the counter;
The unfulfilled chairs open to receive them.
A spoon falls upon the floor with the impact of metal striking stone,
And the sound throws across the room
Sharp, invisible zigzags
Of silver.
poem by Amy Lowell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Silver Birds
Silver birds
getting ready to fly
red, white and blue
it's our pride in the sky
Silver birds
above the clouds
making waves
making us proud
Silver birds
shining bright
into the evening
into the night
Silver birds
amongst the rest
flying strong
to be the best
Silver birds
coming round the bend
getting ready to land
out of their descend
Silver birds
representing the states
with the colors of freedom
at all their gates.
Charlie Vergara
11.21.2007
2576
poem by White Tiger
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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She'll Be Comin' Round the Mountain
She'll be comin' round the mountain,
When she comes.
She'll be comin' round the mountain,
When she comes.
She'll be comin' round the mountain,
She'll be comin' round the mountain,
She'll be comin' round the mountain,
When she comes.
She'll be drivin' six white horses,
When she comes.
She'll be drivin' six white horses,
When she comes.
She'll be drivin' six white horses,
She'll be drivin' six white horses,
She'll be drivin' six white horses,
When she comes.
Oh we'll all go to meet her,
When she comes.
Oh we'll all go to meet her,
When she comes.
We will kill the old red rooster,
We will kill the old red rooster,
And we'll all have chicken and dumplin',
When she comes.
Switch on the light, please
I always rise from a fall
From the floor I lift my bottom
Up this table
And from this table I stand
And reach this ceiling
It is dark and you simply sit there
Like a blind creature
Learning to live & even love
♥
This darkness
You keep telling me about your
Broken dreams
The walls enclosing you
The wails of the past
Screaming at you
Up here I hold this
Fluorescent bulb
And put it on the socket
On the ceiling and now
It is finally done & ready
To have light however
It is still you
Who must stand
Move to that dark corner
And then switch on
This tiny thing
☼
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dark Companion
Another round for my dark companion (1)
The view from here is crouded now
My doppelganger smiles at me (2)
From across the room
I will wear only black and white
And hide in the alleys
On a saturday night
The endless prattle of politicians (3)
Rings in my ears
The rain makes my eyeliner run (4)
Another round for my dark companion
Another round for my dark companion
The great social issues mean less than nothing
To dimensional pests
On my tv screen
The view from here is crouded now
My doppelganger smiles at me
From across the room
Another round for my dark companion
Another round for my dark companion...
song performed by by Information Society
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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