The Waters Of The Pond Are So Silent
the waters of the pond
are so silent
i can hear the ripples
of the boat of death
coming at the side
of this river that bridges
us to the other island
there is feasting over there
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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This River
this river is a wide and long stretch
of brown dreams
it is silent its ripples are like moving threads
it has a song of its own
that only your heart can sing
we sail this river again
this ealy morning when the sun still hides itself
in the nipa palms
we sit side by side as the boat takes its time
we hold our hands
we are still lovers throught the years
we look forward to the same direction
it will not take that long
at the end we will see again the cascades
we will hear the flow of the mountain springs
we will again remember
the harmony of what we once were
do you hear that cascading song of the water?
that is the song of the river that in my heart i always treasure
together and forever
we will cascade, my love, like this long, brown river to the sea
of our daily affections
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Feeling The Lightness Of My Being
we're on a boat
bound for a beautiful island
far south
the sun is above us
our hairs are blown by the wind
i put my hands on the side of the boat
against the waters
eddies of thoughts
sparkling flashes
shimmering waters
this lightness of being
intimate to this world
that i am living
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Misty River
This morning
Me in this Misty River
All the happiness
I am feeling inside myself
Misty River
The mist is coming
From this Misty River
There are clouds
In the sky
And the mist
Is caused by the condensation
Of the heat mixed in the cold water
Misty River
I am in a fishing boat
That boat is moving slowly in this
Misty river
It is early in the morning
I am eating my breakfast in the fishing boat in the middle of this
Misty River
I hear the birds singing early in the morning
In this Misty River
There must be trees because the sound of the birds is coming from the Branches
Misty River
So peaceful
It looks so different with the mist
No one is around but me
With my fishing boat
And the beautiful sound of the birds
It is so nice
To have a place to come to
Where I can
Hear the sound of the birds
And be left alone
With no one disturbing me
Misty River
This is my special place
And by afternoon
No clouds I will see
The birds are beautiful
Their song is just beautiful like mother nature intended it to be
If nobody else appreciates this Misty River
I do
Misty River
I will die for you
Misty River
I will shed my tears for you
I have been coming here for so long now
Misty River
poem by Aldo Kraas
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Streams Of The Rivers Waters
the meditations of the man on the river
how long will it take him to his nirvana?
the lotus in him is what i am seeing now
and his eyes do not mind the working of
this world. I see waters running on his head.
I see rivers in his veins. I am silent and still.
I am this pond watching how a lotus grows.
How things are with the toads. How time
falls like a teardrop, creating the ripples of
my breaths.There it is. Beauty at its core.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Vic 1
THE boat is ready
you hold the paddle
and you step on it
and take the ride
there is this peace
that the pond offers
there is this solitude
of the heart
that speaks the silence
of the water
the boat wades with
you
then you let everything
float away
beside the river bank
a tree grows
with lush leaves
you lay your head
on the side of the boat
you close your eyes
and then dream
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Bridges To Melissa
I close my eyes in front of the nebular sppeal
I feel it dragging me this suicidal desire!
I am who claim for our blood
Melissa waits for me in the distance...far away!
Beyond the ocean
Beyond the southern lair
There lays your cradle
I'll build four bridges to you!
You are the light on the other side of the sky
I am the shadow of this side of hell
Melissa hear me far away!
You will cover the sun, you will charm the moon
By my side!
Show me the other...
Show me the other spell
I'll fly to your cradle
I'll build four bridges to you!
You're my end, you're my dreams
You're my path
You're another temple's stone of our race
Melissa guide me to your cradle
I will be the Baptist of the black forgotten arts!
And flying together
Under the frozen clouds
Feasting the demons
Running on the bridges!
song performed by by Undercroft
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Stormy Sea
that boat was too small
for this trip to the other island
the ladies sat next to me
and they were all silent
to the sounds of the waves
just beside us and i knew
that with just one mistake,
one mistake from the boatman
that boat would have sunk
but lo, how the boatman took
the boat was kind of a very
skilled skipper of the waves
of the stormy sea like he was one
surfer in California taking sides
with each wave with so much
art and beauty carefully scaling
where safety lied and where
danger waited for an ambush
i was looking at each side
of the huge waves until
we reached Crocodile Island
of course the ladies knew that
it was no longer a joke but
a matter of a skilled boatman
making a choice between
life and death.
we chose life and the ladies and
the boatmen very well knew it.
the waves were too big for the
small boat but our silence was
even bigger. we survived.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Boat On The River (Frankfurt 2000)
Take me back to my boat on the river
I need to go down, I need to come down
Take me back to my boat on the river
And I won't cry out anymore
Time stands still as I gaze in her waters
She eases me down, touching me gently
With the waters that flow past my boat on the river
So I don't cry out anymore
Oh the river is wide
The river it touches my life like the waves on the sand
And all roads lead to Tranquillity Base
Where the frown on my face disappears
Take me down to my boat on the river
And I won't cry out anymore
Oh the river is deep
The river it touches my life like the waves on the sand
And all roads lead to Tranquillity Base
Where the frown on my face disappears
Take me down to my boat on the river
I need to go down, won't you let me go down
Take me back to my boat on the river
And I won't cry out anymore
And I won't cry out anymore
And I won't cry out anymore
song performed by by Styx
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Stage Four
stage four is of course, sure death.
the nerves are swerving and convoluted to utter disbelief.
he says, four months more, no bonus, not bogus, not
a leaf of lettuce that you play with your teeth or tongue
no figure of speech can save this inevitable crashing of cells.
stage four, spell four, i will spell it for you. There is no word
to start with about tomorrow. There is no tomorrow. It is clipped.
And cut and set aside. There will be some discussions for a while.
Where to leave the pen and paper. And the basket of daisies
and glossy red apples. The green ones have to be give away
as early as the sixth day of our agony. Less pain you want it?
A glass of clear water. Pills and pins. Touch my hand.
I will tell you i love you (20x) but it is late. The sun at the port
is setting earlier than expected. The steamer has arrived.
No it isn't. It is an old wooden boat docked by the side
of a very old river. Shadows. Darkness. Ripples of the river.
I hear the sound of the black bird. It is your name now that is called.
A hand with a candle. I see you taken,
What is important now is the peace of this bed.
It will be empty at the nearest hour. My love shall never die.
I whisper it to you. Closed eyes. Another journey and then
That man in the dark, drives us away and takes you.
To the other side of this lonely island.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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River’s Utterance
River’s utterance
Known to both the banks;
Inform you river
Tell him that I am
Sitting on side of bank-
When boat anchor
Swimming is unknown
I am totally helpless;
How to cross river
All time day-night
High or low tide boat flows-
Crosses the river
O! Why the boat
You took him dropping me;
No life except her.
poem by Bongokobida Zakaria
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A silent river
In the silent river my sweetheart tell me everything
See how calm the waters
In the silent river my sweetheart tell me what you feel
see how beautiful the river
With the sound of birds whistling
Joyful whistling in this river
How happy they gave beauty on this silent river
In the silent river my love dont forget with our promises
Sound of water running thrilling us
Note the butterfly flew with graceful
Add warm atmospher here
in the silent river
how much i have anxious waiting for you here
in the silent river
The anxiety i always remember our promises
here in the silent river
When there is only me that shaded the sun's heat
To time gives the distance between us
In the silent river..
my sweetheart dont forget with our love
Boat On The River
Take me back to my boat on the river
I need to go down, I need to come down
Take me back to my boat on the river
And I wont cry out any more
Time stands still as I gaze in her waters
She eases me down, touching me gently
With the waters that flow past my boat on the river
So I dont cry out anymore
Oh the river is wide
The river it touches my life like the waves on the sand
And all roads lead to tranquillity base
Where the frown on my face disappears
Take me down to my boat on the river
And I wont cry out anymore
Oh the river is deep
The river it touches my life like the waves on the sand
And all roads lead to tranquillity base
Where the frown on my face disappears
Take me down to my boat on the river
I need to go down, with you let me go down
Take me back to my boat on the river
And I wont cry out anymore
And I wont cry out anymore
And I wont cry out anymore
song performed by by Styx
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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5 For U
soothing winds
swaying on the river
river on ripples
penetrating
first rays of the sun
pond tickled!
baked earth
first summer showers
earth's perfume wafting
sunflowers stand in
silent salutation
radiant sun!
heaven comes down
morphes into nature
splash of colours
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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The Barrio In The South
the green waters rise
to rinse the roots of the coconut trees
the lilies float
the ripples carry them to a joyful journey
to the banks of the river
where the children play
this is the place that you miss
an island a hut a river
the peace and quiet
of the ipil-ipil leaves
showering when the wind passes
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Air Of Diabelli's
CALL it to mind, O my love.
Dear were your eyes as the day,
Bright as the day and the sky;
Like the stream of gold and the sky above,
Dear were your eyes in the grey.
We have lived, my love, O, we have lived, my love!
Now along the silent river, azure
Through the sky's inverted image,
Softly swam the boat that bore our love,
Swiftly ran the shallow of our love
Through the heaven's inverted image,
In the reedy mazes round the river.
See along the silent river,
See of old the lover's shallop steer.
Berried brake and reedy island,
Heaven below and only heaven above.
Through the sky's inverted image
Swiftly swam the boat that bore our love.
Berried brake and reedy island,
Mirrored flower and shallop gliding by.
All the earth and all the sky were ours,
Silent sat the wafted lovers,
Bound with grain and watched by all the sky,
Hand to hand and eye to . . . eye.
Days of April, airs of Eden,
Call to mind how bright the vanished angel hours,
Golden hours of evening,
When our boat drew homeward filled with flowers.
O darling, call them to mind; love the past, my love.
Days of April, airs of Eden.
How the glory died through golden hours,
And the shining moon arising;
How the boat drew homeward filled with flowers.
Age and winter close us slowly in.
Level river, cloudless heaven,
Islanded reed mazes, silver weirs;
How the silent boat with silver
Threads the inverted forest as she goes,
Broke the trembling green of mirrored trees.
O, remember, and remember
How the berries hung in garlands.
Still in the river see the shallop floats.
Hark! Chimes the falling oar.
Still in the mind
Hark to the song of the past!
Dream, and they pass in their dreams.
Those that loved of yore, O those that loved of yore!
Hark through the stillness, O darling, hark!
Through it all the ear of the mind
Knows the boat of love. Hark!
Chimes the falling oar.
O half in vain they grew old.
Now the halcyon days are over,
Age and winter close us slowly round,
And these sounds at fall of even
Dim the sight and muffle all the sound.
And at the married fireside, sleep of soul and sleep of fancy,
Joan and Darby.
Silence of the world without a sound;
And beside the winter faggot
Joan and Darby sit and dose and dream and wake -
Dream they hear the flowing, singing river,
See the berries in the island brake;
Dream they hear the weir,
See the gliding shallop mar the stream.
Hark! in your dreams do you hear?
Snow has filled the drifted forest;
Ice has bound the . . . stream.
Frost has bound our flowing river;
Snow has whitened all our island brake.
Berried brake and reedy island,
Heaven below and only heaven above azure
Through the sky's inverted image
Safely swam the boat that bore our love.
Dear were your eyes as the day,
Bright ran the stream, bright hung the sky above.
Days of April, airs of Eden.
How the glory died through golden hours,
And the shining moon arising,
How the boat drew homeward filled with flowers.
Bright were your eyes in the night:
We have lived, my love;
O, we have loved, my love.
Now the . . . days are over,
Age and winter close us slowly round.
Vainly time departs, and vainly
Age and winter come and close us round.
Hark the river's long continuous sound.
Hear the river ripples in the reeds.
Lo, in dreams they see their shallop
Run the lilies down and drown the weeds
Mid the sound of crackling faggots.
So in dreams the new created
Happy past returns, to-day recedes,
And they hear once more,
From the old years,
Yesterday returns, to-day recedes,
And they hear with aged hearing warbles
Love's own river ripple in the weeds.
And again the lover's shallop;
Lo, the shallop sheds the streaming weeds;
And afar in foreign countries
In the ears of aged lovers.
And again in winter evens
Starred with lilies . . . with stirring weeds.
In these ears of aged lovers
Love's own river ripples in the reeds.
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
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Walking And Fishing
an early morning walk is like
a fishing venture where you sail with your boat alone on the waters
you wait and some ripples come
and then you remember
you catch fish, you stumble upon a stone
you take hold of each, and then the ripples are gone.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Rivers Too Wide
(morrison)
The rivers too wide now for crossing
The waters rush too loud for talking
We never build bridges for walking
cause the rivers too wide
A gentle stream once flowed between us
But love could cross it easily
Till stormy skies brought bitter teardrops
And made that stream a raging river
Come between you and me
The rivers too wide now for crossing
The waters rush too loud for talking
We never build bridges for walking
Theres no getting to the other side
The rivers too wide now for crossing
The current goes too deep for mending
It looks like an unhappy ending
cause the rivers too wide
Good lessons learned are not forgotten
We gave up love to save our pride
Next time Im faced with rising waters
Ill build a bridge of love and kindness
Reaching to the other side
The rivers too wide now for crossing
The waters rush too loud for talking
We never build bridges for walking
Theres no getting to the other side
The rivers too wide now for crossing
The current goes too deep for mending
It looks like an unhappy ending
cause the rivers too wide
song performed by by Olivia Newton-John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Herakleitos I
Entendu! Understood!
One cannot step
into the same river twice.
Fresh waters
are eternally
rushing in.
Who passed this way?
And when?
Wait!
Pond river ocean
all are filled
with eternal waters.
In tasting these,
is Liberation not found?
And yet the ancient Dragon sits
in a dried out rock pool
singing for rain!
She has burned her lover's letters.
Will her lover's tears suffice?
And the river is jealous,
resentful of bridges,
imprisoned in pipes
and drainage systems.
Even Neptune rages
with his trident
against the volcano
slyly plotting
under the seabed;
impotently chokes
with pollution,
hungry and overfished.
The gods themselves
have traded eternity
for the ticking of a cosmic clock
which crawls its way
towards the end of the kalpa.
For an alms bowl
of memories.
poem by Brian Taylor
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The Clouds Of Narcissus
the clouds of narcissus pass by today
along a clear pond by the side of a rice paddy
they stop to get a good glimpse of their faces and bodies
cottony white, shades of blue, pluffy, and soft
they stop and take a longer gaze, admiring every
beauty of its hands and fingers, a longer time
an island of grass some reeds and dry leaves
get curious about what is happening why the clouds
stop and made a longer stare over the clear reflection
of their bodies on the little pond. They talk. They are curious.
and then the clouds finally get done with what is usual.
they left. Slowly sail away from what they are seeing lovingly.
Nothing happens since then. They own no one.No one owns them.
They leave. They do not know how to love. Neither are they loved.
They are gone. The island of grass is silent. The reeds hush.
And the pond has become murky.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Lost River
Theres a lost river that flows
In a valley where no on e goes,
Where the wild waters rush
Rumbles deep in the hush.
Gone far from there now,
Lord Ill be back somehow
To where the lost river winds
In the shadow of the pines
Oh, lost river, now Im coming back
To the pot-belly stove, where the firewoods all stacked
Oh Quebec girl, go with me,
Oh my bell, my fleur de lis,
Where the lost river winds
In the shadow of the pines
Now every body knows
Where that lost river flows
Its someplace hes lost
Behind bridges that hes crossed
Well, hed like to return,
But his bridges are all burned
And hes much too far down
To return to higher ground
Oh, lost river, now Im coming back
To the pot-belly stove, where the firewoods all stacked
Oh Quebec girl, go with me,
Oh my bell, my fleur de lis,
Where the lost river winds
In the shadow of the pines
Oh lost river, far over ther ridge
Now is it too late for me to build me a new bridge?
To the bright golden time
When her love was still mine
And the world was still wild
Like the heart of a child
Oh, lost river, now Im coming back
To the pot-belly stove, where the firewoods all stacked
Oh Quebec girl, go with me,
Oh my bell, my fleur de lis,
Where the lost river winds
In the shadow of the pines
Where the lost river winds
In the shadow of the pines
song performed by by Nitty Gritty Dirt Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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