The Waiting Of What Comes Next....
the hurry into
the room and the sudden
closing of the door
and windows
simultaneously
cannot as yet be
explained
the wind knows what
ripe time is
every golden grain
counts and
mounts upon a stalk
telling a story
to the humus layer
of this soil
the master is seated
facing a wall
eyes closed
it sees well what comes
next
comfortable now
every bit of an atom
has a carried
explanation
every vibration is
love
the wind goes to
another
place leaving silence
satisfied
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
In my house
You enter a room to see a park
You close a door only to be led to another stairway
Leading you to another room with nothing but windows
You close a window the rest remains open
You close the windows and another door
In that park in the room where you just entered
Opens
Then you are confused about the roof that opens
To a river to the rocks where another door opens
To a wall with trees and birds and butterflies
This is weird you say, this is really weird
Then from the garage comes a wind that blows
Its horn like a car
I have just arrived offering you an explanation
For all these mess, these uncertainties, these self-made
confusions.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Welcome To The Door Of Freedom
this is the door of freedom
you just got in
i have a room beyond this room
no one has entered yet
between this door and my room
is a space
this is where some pieces of my are left
but soon they will be taken back
to be kept inside my palms
to be hidden once again from you
when you get in
you will be introduced to the ritual of knowing
what you do not know
what you cannot know
what shall be hidden forever from you
and you shall be a little bit
disappointed
but you must insist
you have to repeat your name many times
you will sort out the letters
there are onions and chilies
they will make you cry
and then you will wish upon another door
this time it is your door
towards your own room
you will doubt about breathing
about windows and exits
and then you begin to ask
if all these are worth it
you decide.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Journey To Self-discovery
in closing all windows
and shutting the door
inside the silent belly of the room
you are being consumed
in the content of solitude
you shall find your true self
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Like The Jackfruit
like the jackfruit you wait for the season
when you become ripe
and when it comes you exude the scent
of the sweet one
and then you are removed from your stalk
and then they tap with their hands your body
and smell you with their noses
kissing you and hugging you and then
they cut you to slices and then they eat every chunk of you
meanwhile some saps flow from the stalk where you were taken
they fall dropp by drop
they do not stop until the night is over
each dropp is a poem coming from your hands
on that ripe season, your own time.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Every Second Counts
Every second counts
Thats what he says
Every second counts
Every single day
All through the night time
And all through the day time
Cant let your world pass through and in to my way
Every second counts
He cant slow down
Every second counts
See his spin around
Hes chasing his shadow
Hes racing the wind
He tells us to follow
Where the ice is so thin
I hope youre holding on
I hope youre holding on
cos every second counts
song performed by by Chris Rea
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Every Little Counts
Every second counts
When I am with you
I think you are a pig
You should be in a zoo
I guess I shouldve known
Id end up on my own
Every second counts when I am with you
Every second counts
Every little counts
When I am with you
You make me feel so good
I never felt so new
I saw you long ago
Though you never let it show
Every little counts when I am with you
Every little counts when I am with you
Every second counts
When I am with you
Even though youre stupid
I still follow you
The smile upon your face,
It always stays in place
Every second counts when I am with you
Every second counts when I am with you
Every second...
song performed by by New Order
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Sound Of My Footsteps
i open the door
i enter this house
its windows closed
its chairs set aside
along the corners
of the corridors
the sound of my
shoes making
footsteps
reverberates
in the living room
it is like the lonely
poem you wrote
for me
footsteps taking
the stairs up the
second floor leading
to an empty room
nobody lives here
anymore
you explained
one day
this was a happy home
until all of them
were shot
dead, by the lone
gunner,
what was his name again?
you told me once
his name is loneliness
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The immature rice stalk stands erect, while the mature stalk, heavy with grain, bends over.
Open The Gate
I see you from the distance
From beyond the fence you made
Hiding all your feelings
Behind your barricade
Oh have you been invaded
Is this the reason why you hide
I know just how you're feeling
I know - let me inside
Open the gate up
Open the gate up - hurry
Open the gate up - hurry
I want to get near you
But you just won't let me in
'Cause you're so scared of losing
Everything you've got within
Come on now you can trust me
Come on and open the door
'Cause I know just how you're feeling
I know - I've been there before
Open the gate up
Open the gate up - hurry
Open the gate up
Hurry hurry hurry hurry
And do it right now
Do it right now
Do it right now
Do it right now - hurry
Do it right now - do it right now
Do it right now - do it right now
And do it right now - do it right now
Do it right now - do it right now
Hurry
Open the gate up
Open the gate up - hurry
Open the gate up
Hurry hurry hurry hurry
Open the gate up - open the gate up
Or I'm gonna knock the damn door down
Open the gate up - open the gate up
Or I'm gonna knock the damn door down
Open the gate up - open the gate up
Or I'm gonna knock the damn door down
Open the gate up - open the gate up
Or I'm gonna knock the damn door down
Down
song performed by by No Doubt from Beacon Street Collection
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Daft
In the warm yellow smile of the morning,
She stands at the lattice pane,
And watches the strong young binders
Stride down to the fields of grain.
And she counts them over and over
As they pass her cottage door:
Are they six, she counts them seven;
Are they seven, she counts one more.
When the sun swings high in the heavens,
And the reapers go shouting home,
She calls to the household, saying,
'Make haste! for the binders have come
And Johnnie will want his dinner -
He was always a hungry child';
And they answer, 'Yes, it ia waiting';
Then tell you, 'Her brain is wild.'
Again, in the hush of the evening,
When the work of the day is done,
And the binders go singing homeward
In the last red rays of the sun,
She will sit at the threshold waiting,
And with her withered face lights with joy:
'Come, Johnnie, ' she says, as they pass her,
'Come into the house, my boy.'
Five summers ago her Johnnie
Went out in the smile of the morn,
Singing across the meadow,
Striding down through the corn -
He towered above the binders,
Walking on either side,
And the mother's heart within her
Swelled with exultant pride.
For he was the light of the household -
His brown eyes were wells of truth,
And his face was the face of the morning,
Lit with its pure, fresh youth,
And his song rang out from the hilltops
Like the mellow blast of a horn,
And he strode o'er the fresh shorn meadows,
And down through the rows of corn.
But hushed were the voices of singing,
Hushed by the presence of death,
As back to the cottage they bore him -
In the noontide's scorching breath,
For the heat of the sun had slain him,
Had smitten the heart in his breast,
And he who towered above them
Lay lower than all the rest.
The grain grows ripe in the sunshine,
And the summers ebb and flow,
And the binders stride to their labour
And sing as they come and go;
But never again from the hilltops
Echoes the voice like a horn;
Never up from the meadows,
Never back from the corn.
Yet the poor, crazed brain of the mother
Fancies him always near;
She is blest in her strange delusion,
For she knoweth no pain nor fear,
And always she counts the binders
As they pass by her cottage door;
Are they six, she counts them seven;
Are they seven, she counts one more.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Secrets Of The Loving Person
the room where you sleep
does not take hold of you
your bed cannot be part of your skin
and your windows are nothing but
the ordinary closing and opening
of your day
you like a door that opens
to nowhere
you have diamonds in your hands
you spread them
in the garden and you see
how they all glitter for a while
darkness folds and
light of another day opens
you take a walk and whistle
you don't remember the color of the blanket
you forget what warmth was there on that bed
you do not care whether the windows are closed or open
you move to another house
and tell your stories all over again
there is no blink in your eyes
there is no stammering in your tongue
you do not tell them what you love
there are no hands too familiar to hold you back
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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No Attachments
the room where you sleep
does not take hold of you
your bed cannot be part of your skin
and your windows are nothing but
the ordinary closing and opening
of your day
you like a door that opens
to nowhere
you have diamonds in your hands
you spread them
in the garden and you see
how they all glitter for a while
darkness folds and
light of another day opens
you take a walk and whistle
you don't remember the color of the blanket
you forget what warmth was there on that bed
you do not care whether the windows are closed or open
you move to another house
and tell your stories all over again
there is no blink in your eyes
there is no stammering in your tongue
you do not tell them what you love
there are no hands too familiar to hold you back
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Say Goodbye
give me another chance another minute
for this hurt you caused to heal
give me hints to know if you mean it
i should know if it's what you feel
when you said you've had enough
i need to know when the tides recede
if that's what i would ever concede
let me know when it's time to say goodbye
it got better and better till that day
when the storm came and the wind blew
when i stopped getting that fat pay
the passion in your eyes and mind flew
then you said you've had enough
if love and romance counts no more
or the cost of them mounts some more
then i'd know it's time to say goodbye
poem by Ray Anyasi
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Lost In The Grain
like an old picture,
hanging on some dusty wall.
in a room where no one goes,
down at the end of the hall.
lives drawn in crayon,
by hands that have since grown old.
lost somewhere in memories,
by a fire that has grown cold.
we were the wind and rain,
the ones who wouldnt love in vain.
the river steady, the sudden change,
the mountain's silence, the midnite train...
we were the wood lost in the grain.
you gave up your heart,
i gave up my home.
we burned a trail
in the dark just before dawn.
we touched the raw wound,
learned to name the scars.
never thinking of going back,
of giving up or betraying hearts.
we were the wind and rain,
the ones who wouldnt love in vain.
the river steady, the sudden change,
the mountain's silence, the midnite train...
we were the wood lost in the grain.
poem by Eric Cockrell
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All Of A Sudden
(andy partridge)
What can i say?
Why do we starve a thing thats near extinction?
From day to day,
These weeds of fear,
Are choking our conviction,
Life's like a jig-saw,
You get the straight bits,
But there's something missing in the middle.
All of a sudden,
We find the cupboard's bare.
All of a sudden,
We find heaven's not there.
All of a sudden,
We find the sun's gone cold.
All of a sudden
We find we're more than old.
All of a sudden,
We find that we've lost love,
So please don't push or shove because,
It's too late,
It's too late,
In all your hurry you've accidentally locked the gate
What can we do?
Trying to stem the flow of sand is useless.
It's up to you start holding hands,
And watch the balance redress,
Life's like a firework,
You're only lit once,
And you must stand and radiate correctly.
All of a sudden,
We find the cupboard's bare.
All of a sudden,
We find heaven's not there.
All of a sudden,
We find the sun's gone cold.
All of a sudden
We find we're more than old.
All of a sudden,
We find that we've lost love,
So please don't push or shove because,
It's too late,
It's too late,
In all your hurry you've accidentally locked the gate
Love's not a product you can hoard or pack a suitcase with,
It's more a way you have to give.
All of a sudden,
We find the cupboard's bare.
All of a sudden,
We find heaven's not there.
All of a sudden,
We find the sun's gone cold.
All of a sudden
We find we're more than old.
All of a sudden,
We find that we've lost love,
So please don't push or shove because,
It's too late,
It's too late,
In all your hurry you've accidentally locked the gate your hurry you've accidentally locked the gate.
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Step Out Of The Door
i step out of the door
from my dark room the windows are not opened
it is humid
it is cold
and i step out of the door the windows still closed
i lock the door and step upon a patch of green grass
the dews are hanging on the blades
and shaken
i look upon a sky
and there is this star still shining despite the opening of the
mouth of the morning
after a deep sleep
i see your face but i promise there shall be no tears.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sandwriting
Sandwriting
Leave your name and
Let the wind
And high tide
Take it away
Each white gold grain
That made up your name
Take it away
Sandwriting
Write your lover's monogram
Upon the cool damp
White gold grain
say this is who I am
Yes this is all you are my friend
Some shapes upon the sand
Of white gold grain
Washed and blown away
With the memory of your name
Take it away
Go tell the story
To the wind and sea
What ever became of you and me
Each letter of love
That had its golden day
A love song
Without goodbye
Take it away
Sandwriting
song performed by by Chris Rea
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Demons Of Follies
Often at dark nights,
When I rest my head on the pillow,
To relax myself, to calm down tedium of the day,
And put down the lids of my eyes,
The door of some mysterious world swings open;
And I see the images of a strange creature,
No bigger than the physic of full-sized frogs,
Resembling the cartoons,
They stalk around me with glad movements,
Some dangle like bats on the doors
And windows of my dark room,
They emit pungent, disgusting impressions,
And some time I hear a whisper,
“We are your follies; we shall reside with you,
Till you live here and hereafter.”
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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A Wounded Angel
How sad to see
thousands of butterfly wings
freshly plucked
scattered on the ground.
How sad to see
Wounded Angels flounder
at the cliffs edge
one by one
falling into the abyss,
a young girl holding
out her hand
trying to hold her sandy heart
pieces
from sifting through her fingers
grain by grain
blown away by the wind,
Orphan Eyes
slowly closing-
taken by the Caped One.
How sad to see The Haunted of the World
closing the door to Hope,
Rainbow pieces
scattered along
the freeways.
All these sad scenes-
blazing memories-
motivate us
to say
never again to:
ripped up butterfly wings;
wounded angels floundering
atomized sandy young girl hearts;
dead children,
Hope murdered in the streets
Rainbows crying sadly
along side our freeways.
All too sad.
All too much
to ever forget.
All the more necessary to prevent.
Humans
should not tolerate this,
we
mustn't.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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A Repost Of The Past Poem
i step out of the door
from my dark room the windows are not open
it is humid and cold
i step out of the door the windows are still closed
i lock the door and step upon a patch of green grass
the dews are hanging on the blades and shaken
i look upon the sky
and there is this star still shining
despite the opening of the mouth of the morning
i was in deep slumber
i close my eyes
i see your face but i promise there shall be no tears.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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