The Witch In The Old Castle Nearby...
as you, foolish dog of my life,
my life in utter peace, a pond of less ripples,
as you, stupid dog of my life
barks at my feet, and tries to distract my own
solitude, that of the candle still in the middle
of my room, the blankets soft on my bed,
the pillows all too silent like flower petals
on a dew filled morning leaf,
as you, twitchy wicked witch
calls my name, i finally give up and
face myself, and leave you, all cracked up,
and i go inside my room and lock my door
and tell my windows, to shut you up,
do not ruin my life, do not ever attempt to do
that which creases my blankets and
stabs my pillows,
for i shall return to you and burn your
furrowed faces, dissolve you in the acids
of my test tubes,
erase you like some misspelled words,
i am a man of peace, and i am stone.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
Of Cottons And Feathers
cottons are found
on the floor
feathers on the table
from the window
the wind blows and carries them
inside
the bed is well kept
blankets carefully folded
and pillows removed
of creases
something inside me is as light
as cottons and feathers
something inside me is well folded now
like blankets
something in my heart are pillows
removed of
any crease
i triumphed i did it
now i can soundly sleep
as the wind from the window
blows me
into the land of dreams
where i can be
nothing but
just the spectator
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Remembering A Summer Fling
we were short of pillows
and blankets
and it was raining hard
and so cold
inside an empty room
in fact
antiquated, abandoned
and dilapidated
windows
where we hear the
thunder and see
the lightning
cast two shadows
fusing as one
in fast motion
two short lived
and swift
but i can still
prettily remember
the sweet scent
of our sweat
the moaning sounds
drowned by the
heavy rain
and the silence
of bliss
which reigned
after
we left early
morning
since then
there is no
word for
each of us
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Call Me Idiot
a word from you,
and i will remember it,
on this
elephantine memory,
idiot, you call me idiot,
and i shall retort for once
but not twice, not anymore
shall i become
another image of you,
i dread.
i will not call you moron,
but i shall be in my room again
alone
on an array of oxymora
talking to the drapes and the drawers
burying all these
humiliations, and putting a stop
to my fears,
i will see the dancing chairs
and hug the lovely pillows,
hide beneath my blankets,
i promise myself, i will have a nice sleep
and inside my dream
i shall write the most beautiful poem in my life.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The art of living
at the center of my room
delight
on fresh roses
like your
red lips
on my bed
soft and warm silk blankets
strawberry juice on the side table
and cherry on the
glass
the window is open
fresh air from the sea
cools the room
silence is gold here
and solitude is silver
every moment is
a moment
every hour is not a rush
but on softer touch
every inch of skin
is a caress
every thought is
beautiful
every reality is true
embracing and embraced
this is the art of living
every second a relaxation
sleep comes on cat's feet
like a cloud drifting away
peace in the corner
privacy in my door
and yes, love is always
air-conditioned.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Prayer For Today
Lord i thank you
for everything
This early morning I felt the warmth
Beside you through the soft pillows
and the warm bed and the blankets
that embraced me throughout the
dark and cold night.
You have spoken in my dream
I have seen the images
And i have understood all the metaphors.
I am your poem Lord
And I like it.
You started it all
And soon you shall put the ending lines.
You shall sign your name and say
That i am what you have done best.
Dear God, thank you
I look forward to your promise
That you brng me back to your kingdom
To life everlasting
Amen.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Jocelyn...
she is pale, white, emaciated,
on that last day, her hands made most of the grips
she did not want Chona to leave her in that room
she wanted more pillows, but then the pain
despite the high dose of morphine
and the softness of the pillows and the coldness of the
hospital ward,
did not diminish the pain until she finally
made the final gaze and said the
last words, a la cell phone
terminology:
i am checking off.Then she died.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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End of Time
Wild breeze sighing cold
Looking a chance to enter this room
The rain tears dripping
Kissed on my windows
Oh what a sorrowful midnight
Today a bit different,
Room without moonlight
Silent, lame and dark
Withstand cold, surfaced on my skin
Hold my arm tight, keep warm inside
I wake up and staring outside
Everywhere just so dark
Only you, a candle
Stand bravely
On the side of this table
Shower the light in this space
Tonight only us, you and me
In the bright island middle of the dark sea
Together we stay tonight
As close as i can reach you
Feel the touch of your light
As far as your touch invading me
Send warm deeper, core of my body
As deeper as you now illuminating me
Straight to my soul, release your spirit in me
This silent night
Via the light, i listened all
Your spirit embracing my soul
Whispering deep precious words
About life, of you as for me
In age of your length, you burn it all
Sacrifice all you have till nothing left
Say you will bright the dark till end of life
Through the shaken windows,
The lost wind enter and flows
Flying in each corner
Wander all the edges
Come and meet you my candle
Sway your flames for a dance
Whispered in the soft moves
Seduction to surrender
To lose a guard of spirit
Convinced to live in cold ambiance
Dont trust! , you tell me as this life is not a trade
Said, 'Believing sweet lies made strength to fade
My heat is a spirit, in this light another form of it
I was made to bright not created to be wasted'
But we know sometimes it's hard to keep bright
And i saw you sometimes warmly cried
Drop down, Your tears flows
Drop down, another goes
It's not a shame, nor to loose
You told me, cry may dissolve a feeling
Let it down, these tears wax for better stand
Stronger base and the broken will mend
Only with a single flame,
Darkness lost by your light charm
Nothing you left before you warm
Remind me, In life, in the length of age
Flames yourself to brighten the road
As soon it be so clear to travel anywhere
Even make a dream emerged from nightmare
Those words, the touch
Your warmth, tucked me in a dream
Protect me from cold, the whole night
Till I lost you in the morning
You gone and forever leave me
But your spirit united in my soul
Released through your warm, by your light
For me to warm when it's cold, be bright when it's dark
Tomorrow could be beautiful as always
Somehow in a good day in a crowd
Leaving to spend a time alone far away
To feel and remember our last day
The moment you waxed all your words in me
Till the end of time,
The end of my breathe,
I wont give up on anything
As my life not a waste
As you said
: : : : : : : : : : : : : A Spirit to protect: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :
The first poem from my 'Rise from the Ashes' project, i always feel like a child, to speak everything around and they replied me. I use many things around to learn about how they spending their life. For me there's always a reason to inspire our life, to heal brokenness, even to be better by looking around us, either dark or bright. A candle, alone can bright a part of room, and you alone can bright your own life..No one cant help if you cant trust yourself..As we keep our spirit alive, there's a door out for anything. Well like 'my friend, candle' said life not to waste.. Nothing is precious like you..uniquely you :) ..Thanks for reading this long poem :) :)
Cheers! ! ! _Unwritten Soul
2nd poem from my project: Desert Rose
poem by Unwritten Soul
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The Morning After By A Room Window Where We Sleep
one thing with light
is its beautiful muteness
it comes bringing silence
and lands on the pillows and blankets
not even the cat's careful feet
not even the soft feather of a sparrow
the curtains open and everything is still
someone leaves without the use of a word
i must stop thinking for i too must keep going
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sensual Night With Sense
you lay with some memories
your eyes fix on the ceiling
where images
begin to dance
like some fairies
with silk hair
and gossamer wings
you tire
with fairy tales and fantasies
you begin
a more mature approach
with your longings
inside this
empty room
for the night
where your waiting
for her
has become another
failure
you close your eyes
and look inside them
you hug your own
body with your
own arms
you bury yourself
on soft blankets
and pillows
you submerge
in ecstasy
your heart
throbbing
like crazy
and then
a raindrop
begins
to fall from
inside your
pains
falling
on the mountain
of your groin
you dropp dead
eyes closed
the pain
disappears
like some clouds
blown away
by this new wind
of coping up
and learning
with sense
sensuality
in automation
a flood of emotions
rush
to oblivion
tomorrow you wake
up and face a new
day again
they say you are a mature
person living life
that way it should be lived
coping up
self-automated
no misery seeking company
just being alone,
strong, and not needing help
from anyone.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Sharp Contrast
at a friend's party
drinks are served and some
christmas food, dessert and
conversations and laughter
of reminiscenses
we left at the right hour
when the hosts are sleepy
time to be back
to my room,
in sharp contrast
the bed and the pillows
and blankets are
soundly asleep
no snores, not a scratch
of an ant's feet
not a sound from
the walls
deafening silence
questions without answers
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A House Full Of Peace
no laughter from children
no conversations from visitors
a couple not on terms with each other
closed doors and windows
dusty slippers
empty thermos bottles
rusty door knobs
unused toothpaste
hard water
unfolded blankets
cold pillows
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Aftermath
Windows in a silent room , sunlight burns the walls to black
Angles and dimensions melt while colors drip and pillows crack
Reflections of my memories like pictures pasted on a sheet
The ribbon film of separate frames lying curled up at my feet
The film is just a snake design and the photographs are fading fast
These are not memories of mine I have no future, no past
I've seen a thousand afternoons dissolve into the night
Like sugar crystals on a spoon they disappear from sight
Gray days from the crispest morning to the warmest afternoon in this room
And I like to draw the face I saw so long ago
My image in the mirror tells the jagged lines which way to go
The black and white description of the sole survivor of the Holocaust
All the rest were lost
Do you see this paper face? It has no color or no mood
My eyes are ageless, as am I. I need no sleep, I need no food
I am a king, but like a child the other children laugh at me
Tongues of fire, wagging wild they dance around me merrily
I'll kill them all and if I fail I'll kill whoever I can find
Then they'll beg me to be kind
My eyes have seen far more than eyes can ever tell
This planet plunged through mushroom fires of earthly hell
I know that my sweet Jesus said that he'd return
But Babylon has fallen and the cities burn
song performed by by Don McLean
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Moment
..and then i discover
what a moment is
it is like a stair
each time when i take the step
when i hold the rail on its side
when i savor what
warmth and hardness is
when i gaze upon a step that i put
upon another
wood
and then on another
looking only whenever i take it
no longer beyond
or after
and without knowing
i have reached the door and into
my room
i enter where i am met by
this chair where i sit
for a while
where a bed covered with blankets
and laid with silk covered pillows meet me
and then
seduce me
to soundly sleep
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Try *Unreal edit
I am the ruin-er of all dreams
The darkest of angels so it seams
Lock me away forever
This is my second endeavor
In a room without a key
No longer can I ruin your dreams
No lights, no points, no knifes
No point to wait till the end of my life
Eyes to dilate to there peak
To return to normal never again
No point it's lost all away
With the willing loss of every friend
Unknowing of what else to do
I shut this all down because of you
I quite it all every temptation
To show you your true loves discretion
I hate the fact you take it as
A loss of love a loss of life
But all it is is just a sense
Of how hard I really really try
You do not see the love I have
I shut it off I quite it all
To show you that I really try
But off the cliff I slip and fall
It does not matter to myself at all
For you are all that's left I care
I try to show you speak it out
But a lack for the words I am without
You will not trust
You say I lie
If that's how you feel
I wish to die
Because if they don't work
Then I can not deal
Without my words
I am unreal
poem by Matt Burgett
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The Allegory Of The Cycle Of Doors
and so there is this door that appears before you
and you open it
and then when you enter the room
another door appears
this is the cycle of doors that keep on appearing and you
keep on opening
but the room still appears from a distance
always distant
from your eager feet to enter
you say to enter the room i must please the door
but the room moves away just the same
and the door tells you
to keep the room
you have to burn it and when the room is burned
the door finally disappears
and then both the door and the room shall tell you
now be happy
for you now have a house of your own
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Stare
a stare is like a stair
it has steps
and there are feet
walking,
and leaving,
you stare at me,
and i see stairs, where you walk
and climb and stop at the middle
and then take the stairs layer by layer
that is what you like to do, to look at me
as though i am this room where you build the stairs
and you want to go inside my room and lock me up
and take all of me with your tongue and hands and
mouth. You mouth me. And i receive the life you have.
and then your stare subsides. the stair is gone.
the room vanishes. I am free. And you are inside me
your stare has become the memory lingering inside me.
i become a bird and you are inside my wings.
Your stairs become my feathers. Your stare
becomes my eyes.
in love, we make the stairs leading to a house.
and there we feast, and live and sleep.
yes, there are wings and windows.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Classified
Classified, class, deal, as, if, lead, lass, die, fed, flies, dies, ace, sad, lie, sale;
Hear and give ear to my words!
For the round corner of your room is now exposed to me.
Classified, fields, fail, fails, dial, ale, lace, dice, side, ice, aide, lied, lies, sales;
And like the love of your muse with joy!
But hear my words and learn also from me,
For the round corner of your room is now exposed to me.
Classified, lad, lid, led, sail, face, faces, sides, fades, side, aid, case, laid, sled;
With words of love and words of peace,
But remember always to do the right thing!
For th corner of your room is now exposed to me.
Classified, cad, clad, field, lies, aids, acid, field, fields, acids, cases, lair, laird;
With the memories of your love and the joy of peace!
But hear and give ear to my works;
For the round corner of your room is now exposed to me.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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At The End Of The Day (2)
at the end of the day what thoughts shall i keep
what thoughts shall i discard
what to forget what to remember
at the end of the day when we see each other again
dine together on this carved dining table
and sit on these steady mahogany chairs
finally we sleep together in bed covered by thick blankets and soft pillows
then you lower the mosquito nets
do we not feel both being buried?
i honestly ask if you are still alive with me.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Relics Of Love
the moon took away the memory
of you
the wind conceals the secrets
your shadow dissolves in the
days of my life
the river constantly murmurs
about what happens to the forest
jewels
my hands are closed
they do not open to the water
the rain is no exemption
to this hiding
but then the blankets and the pillows
where the locks of your hair are homed
still whisper your name
in the crevices of artful rocks
your face is carved
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Lovers In Love With Life
The petals that fall from a rose in bloom
do so with grace and ease.
One by one they leave the flower
and flutter in the breeze.
The lovers that fall in love with life
do so with eyes that see
that what they have before them
is a set of keys.
These keys can open up life's doors
that lead to roads unknown.
Together they travel the path of life
and never feel they're alone.
They face a future not carved in stone
but will do it fearlessly
for they know that their love will protect them
wherever they may be.
And like the petals that left the rose
because its life was done,
So too the lovers in love with life
will leave this life as one.
For lovers that shed the tears that drop
just like the petals that fall
understand that what they had in life
was that they had it all.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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