They Cannot Harm Anymore
mother was writing her lesson plan
and i was watching her
beside a lamp, that was then when
there was no electricity yet available in the barrio
the sound of the cicadas were loud and the
lizards keep eating the moth on the ceiling
i touched a wall eaten with termites and asked mother
if termites could do us harm or the wood
finally giving in to the hollowness of their skin
all substances she said have their terminals
wood surrender to the greed of termites
and termites build their own empires under the earth
so she said do not complain if this house
that we live in soon fall to the ground and be nothing
but flanks of rotten memories
the law of nature is there
we are all temporary
nothing lasts forever
those that eat and those that are eaten
are but part of their
paths to destiny.
fate cannot harm, they serve the law
and everything has a purpose unique on its own.
i look upon my blank sheet of paper
and then i begin to write again.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Loneliness
Have you seen
How loneliness
Gnaws at you
Like termites
In a wooden
Body…
You are
Not an
Old piece
Of furniture
That can be
Replaced -
With a body
New.
So,
Helplessly
Hopelessly
You let the
Termites…
Chew into you.
On second thoughts
Even if you had -
A body refreshed
And new, wouldn't
Those termites…
Still find you?
After all,
As long as
You live,
Loneliness
Lives with you.
It's only those
In between
Fillers of
*Joyous*
Excitement
That come
Visiting you,
But they soon
Bid you adieu.
Loneliness
Stays.
It's your
Lifelong
Enemy.
It whips you
Haunts you…
Threatens you
Bullies you.
You try
Scaring it away.
It never
Leaves you.
It thrives
Within you
Like a termites'
Colony and keeps
Eating into you…
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Power
power has built itself
permanently on citadels
you, an ant, cannot take
the place of
their monuments,
look for wood, conspire
with the friendship of the
termites,
the timid worms,
live on dungs, and
begin the song of sorrow
time listens
the storm comes,
tsunamis multiply,
earthquakes, and
floods,
you, the ant, takes only a leaf
to survive,
a grain of rice
will be too much,
a dew for survival,
soon the citadels of power
crushes to the ground
including the king and queen
and their servants,
they all rot,
and you, the ant,
and termites long hiding
on rotten wood,
and worms surviving
on the humus of dung
shall build
for a beginning,
a hill, a path,
a throne of dung.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
3a
there are things that
do not last, wood,
what with termites,
and metal, what with
the salt and the
sea that gives us
more memories,
yes, memories too
same thing with love
unrequited, pain, same
manner with temporary
joys, success, same thing
with failures....
ah, nothing lasts forever,
something that still comes
may outlast
us...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Socially An Accepted Activity
Does it really make a difference,
If carpenter ants or termites...
Are responsbile for the effects,
Of a crumbling structure known?
Both can gnaw galleries,
In dead or decayed wood.
Termites are often pale colored,
And live in colonies.
Maybe because they are called white ants...
And the carpenter ones are black.
Perhaps that is the reason,
When they destroy with ultimate devastation...
It is socially an accepted activity,
Than 'if' their presence had been of color.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
For The Greedy Old Lady
old lady
you have accumulated much
more than what you need
tomorrow is your
death time
you shall leave all these
greed stuff
no one will touch them
no one will have them
the wooden part will be eaten by termites
some shall rot under the rain
others shall become more rigid and useless under the sun
the rest shall be taken by the state
and they who are your children shall laugh at last.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Nothings Lasts Forever
i
the termites are happy
for i have chosen wood,
and learning my lesson
i use steel
the sea breeze sings
with its salt
ii
the cement may be the solution
or the asphalt
and yet my mind changes
wanting to break the hardness
of the stuff
iii
i like things that last
they say i must have the diamonds
oh! something that we cannot eat?
iv
the body turns to dust
the soul escapes
ideas even on paper
meet the burning
v
footprints on the sand
eaten by the waves
a new slate is ready
i step again and again
now i do not really mind
what prints are there
what word is spoken
what ideas grow
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Stinging Reply - 1915 - to Ogden Nash The Termite, Harry Graham Ruthless Rhymes and Hilaire Belloc
When termites knocked upon ants' door
they thought to conquer larval store;
how lucky vicious fire ant queen
nested above poor Auntie Jean,
for when upon the latter's bed
it fell and stung her quick and dead.
Her Will, found sound, Judge Jonas swore
that I'd inherit more and more!
From this one may gay moral glean,
auspicious chance and pastures green
fall to man mean who plans ahead,
blind termites leads to where ants bred.
(9 September 2009)
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Situation Like Here....
he enters a door
the frames are eaten by termites
he goes inside
where the chairs have only three feet
the sofa is like a stomach with intestines getting out
the roof leaks
there are stains of dried liquid on its corners
blood of a woman
the ceiling is like some rotten leaves
without stalkers
the floor is rough like a rocky shore
mud plated on some surfaces
he looks at the pile of papers
people are always quarreling
and there are endless litigations here
no one wants to shrink a little
and give way to something
perhaps bigger
the setting itself is unjust
the aircon is cracking like some hot oil
where water sprinkles itself unnecessarily
or inadvertently
i do not like to be here
but here i am
learning to live with injustice
dirt and rotten system
turning into humus
on the other hand, there must be a time for change
a fertile ground
after so much leaking and wetting and
rotting
worms eating themselves
bats evacuating
leaving feces on the floors
airy space, silent halls, and children giggling
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
104
This is the house of my father
The termites eat every wall
The beams fall
And the roofs shatter
And the ceiling splits with the gutter
I come back today to remember
The past
And here I am to reconstruct better
The future i must
The present
Shall be this condiment this complement
Now, these hands shall be the hammer
To every nail in the mind of this dreamer
This house shall stand again
Proud against the wind & rain.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
This is the house of my father
The termites eat every wall
The beams fall
And the roofs shatter
And the ceiling splits with the gutter
I come back today to remember
The past
And here I am to reconstruct better
The future i must
The present
Shall be this condiment this complement
Now, these hands shall be the hammer
To every nail in the mind of this dreamer
This house shall stand again
Proud against the wind & rain.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Life Oh Life
life oh life
what rest is there that you can give?
you have been dancing
and hip hopping and wriggling
and jumping
and running randomly to
any possible direction
life oh life
tell me what is in store for me out there?
is there no other island of desire?
is there no other haven for love?
life oh life
tell me, boredom like termites are eating
each wood of my house
each bone of my body
each nerve
tell me, life,
where do we go from here? shall death be an answer?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
What He Did
as law professor teaching civil and political law
he did not tell his students that he writes poems during some
breaks of their studies.
as the students hurdle a legal problem in marriage
he preoccupies himself with some images: an old weary man
carrying an ax, debarking a tree without leaves.
it can carry him far away to some hills in his mind.
clouds and storms dock on his forehead.
he shakes his head, and goes back to the legal words
right on the page of his book. Finds himself again, strong willed.
Astute. Wise. Objective. Sharp.
A student raises his hand and recites a solution the problem.
He listens and claps his hands.
The class is dismissed and he is left alone in the room
It is 8: 45 in the evening.
Images come again. The tree is finally cut. The barks turn into paper.
He knows now the cause of the decay. Some termites.
The old man is dead. Cut by the ax. The ax is gone.
Who did it? Why?
These are his mind games.
He opens the door of the car and begins to drive himself back home.
He has a poem to write again.
It is about that old man who died beside a tree that he debarked.
It is not more of the ax or termites.
It is the tree. A tree without leaves.
A very lonely tree which is cut.
He is happy now.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Interconnectivity...
there must be a link between
a caterpillar
and the nail
on your theory of inter-connectivity
though we
most of the time burn bridges
break ships
and live on islands
there must be a trace between our
ashes
either those scars
or those new skins
words are growing wings
to fly to you
you have designed cages
however
to keep them
dying
my fingers want to touch your lips
your teeth grit
there is no truth to your bibles
where termites
build their empires...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Rain Songs....
i have figured the sound
of tears
its rhythm from the moment
you turn red
and sob
and then i hear again
the songs
of rain
from that faraway
forest mountain
i, too, was all alone
figuring out myself the song of sorrow
how leaves fall
how grasses wilt
how the termites build their empire
upon the bones
of tree trunks
how the ants
eat the monkeys'
failures.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Passing Through Me
a shattered mirror right under the bed
reflecting light from the holes of the wall
that the termites ate,
you pass through me when i speak to you
you leave me a scent of stone and ash
that is how i know about all of you
now try recalling, what do you know of me?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
They All Pass Away...
i have nothing to keep
what i have had always been
the courage to give
i mark the treasures
not for keeping them anymore
i put the time
when the ripe time comes
for giving them all
away
one must realize
there is nothing that we can own
wood? termites eat them
iron? the salt rusts them
stones? oh they break
and those precious ones
if you keep them
and treasure them
shall only give you that
little sensual pleasure of
seeing
the stress of robbers
will be there
for all nights and days
there is nothing worth keeping
time? it just slipped away...
me? i am just another dust
and you are another wind...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Re-Invent And Undo
Out from the woodwork they will come,
Like carpenter ants and termites to cut down...
Anything to upset and destruct,
With a plucking of nerves.
And venom striking tongues.
They are not readily noticed,
Until something unexpected...
They have heard validated,
Someone believed they did a doing done...
To have left their misdeeds trapping one in a web.
With a stinging that stung...
No one would survive to overcome.
Like carpenter ants and termites to cut down...
Anything to upset and destruct,
With a plucking of nerves.
And venom striking tongues.
Out from the woodwork they will come.
With a permanent stinging,
No one would survive to overcome....
To re-invent and undo with a renewed doing.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Assumptions are the termites of relationships.
quote by Henry Winkler
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Building A Big House
you build a big house
with one thought, a wish
that something may last forever
like love, like the finest wood
like a relationship,
or say
(let me say it this way)
a marriage, like strong stairs
inviting attention to society
that no one is leaving
like a door closing behind
a sigh,
but a house with time falls
pillars collide, and floors go
termite eaten to the ground
doors fall out from the hinges
that hold them it their frames,
nothing lasts forever
i know,
i build a house because i know
what love is
i want to give it shelter and warmth
like those rooms
a glow like those living rooms
a nice dinner
like the kitchen and the dining tables.
i do not think beyond my body
that turns to dust
i know
i do not utter beyond my words, i know,
no words can withstand the
lures of the niceties of a lie.
i know
i build the house because we are here
and there is nothing
worth doing
there is no snow and ski is irrelevant.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!