this Sunday
this Sunday i will be with Tony
my cousin with one arm left,
a machine ate his left arm,
his wife left him and his only son
does not recognize him anymore,
oh, it's a sad story, and it's
pity in real action, but i let him
express himself,
he is a good mountain
walker.
this Sunday, we agreed on a trek
in Tabon, where the trees are still trees.
The path is narrow, and
the grasses are taller.
we do not hunt for birds,
we simply watch them.
we do not speak that much
we agreed to simply listen
the sound of the forest wind
the shadows of the hills cast by the setting sun
the mud on our feet
the sweat on our brows
at night, when we are all alone
we begin to tell our stories again
those where wives are not interested to listen
those which do not make husbands cry
over a cup of hot coffee
i recite a sad poem that i have not the courage to write for once.
now it is not about love
it is more about death and revenge
Tony will like it.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
New Beginning
hand me down some photographs
spread across the floor
a broken record spins in circles
she can't listen anymore
she's turned around a thousand times
she set that bridge a fire
but did you wanna listen
you took the world with you
so what is left
so what is left for me
i called you on the phone again
just the other day
it sounds to me you found your place
and everything is great
but did you wanna listen
you took the world with you
so what is left
so what is left for me
i try
so hard to figure out
why
no explanation keeps me waiting
lets try
because i know you won't forget
i know
even if the story is over
but did you wanna listen
you took the world with you
so what is left for me
so what is left for me
but did you wanna listen
you took the world with you
so what is left
so what is left for me
what's left for me
song performed by by Finch from What It Is To Burn
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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No One To Run With
By betts and prestia
(c) 1994 sony music entertainment, inc.
Everybody wants to know where jimmy has gone
He left town, I doubt if hes coming back home
Well tony got a job, three kids and a lovely wife
Working at the commerce bank for the rest of his life
[chorus]
Nobody left to run with anymore
Nobody left to do the crazy things we used to do before
Nobody left to run with anymore
Im gonna hit the road, adios my friend
Go someplace and start all over again
Dont know where Im going, like a gypsy out on the road
Ill go someplace and join a traveling show
[chorus]
Nobody left to run with anymore
Nobody wants to do the crazy things we used to do before
Nobody left to run with anymore
Nobody left to run with anymore
Nobody left to run with anymore
I think jimmy must have had the right idea
Packed his stuff and he got right out of here
I dont know where hes at but Im sure that hes ok
Now I realize what jimmy was trying to say
[chorus]
Nobody left to run with anymore
Nobody wants to do the crazy things we used to do before
Nobody left to run with anymore
Nobody left to run with anymore
Nobody left to run with anymore
song performed by by Allman Brothers Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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For Tony
you're home tony,
you're just right there
in the home of your heart
cool, be cool, tony boy
you're just right there
in your own home
feel the love
and kiss the person
next to you
close your eyes
and imagine a very
peaceful and
harmonious universe
stars with hands
holding each other
and dancing in
limitless space
of eternity
the moon and sun
on a perfect agreement
to make nights and
days of equal lengths
the rivers that flow
ending right there
in the deep blue sea
it is all perfect tony,
everything is just as perfect
as we wish and see
them all today
this moment of joy
and bliss this moment
of perfection
this moment when
our hearts fly like
birds towards
the island abundant
of our respective
& reserved
destinies
close your eyes tony
and imagine what perfection is
it is the shaking of the hands
of the mundane and the divine
the meeting of the minds
of God and Man
listen well tony to the sound
of peace and harmony
take note of every feeling
of stability
and then write
the next poem that comes
cascading like a waterfall
inside your mind
and then from where i am seated
i will read
the poem of your life.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sunday Morning
Sunday morning silence, curtain stay closed late
No one thinks of kitchens mornings in a filthy state
Dishes cups and beer stains, ashtrays on the floor
Sunday morning papers are left outside the front door
Sunday school and sunday roast
Sunday papers sunday post
Sunday morning sunday rest
Sunday sermon sunday best
(sunday, bloody sunday rest)
Glass of fizzy water helps to start the day
Sit and listen to sunday silence, problems fade away
Sunday cars and drivers break the morning air
Uncollected milk outside reveals theres no one there
Sunday school and sunday roast
Sunday papers sunday post
Sunday morning sunday rest
Sunday sermon sunday best
Sunday school and sunday roast
Sunday papers sunday post
Sunday morning sunday rest
Sunday sermon sunday best
Bathrobes hang in waiting, windows steaming up
Somewhere in the sink downstairs lies an unwashed cup
Tea and toast for breakfast clear away the plates
Wash-up prepare for cooking sunday lunch awaits
Sunday lunch awaits
Sunday lunch awaits
song performed by by Madness
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To The Six Furies Of My Mind...
we,
who are being attacked by
the Five Furies
mine now Six
have no other possible defense
to protect
our minds
but to write these lines
so do not ask me
why i am writing th
ese
i am being chased
and so i am running away
i have to run away still
because i am being chased like wind to another wind
like nothing
to another nothing
i am
perhaps still afraid of
the death of my
mind
the death of the wind
the trees will die too
the fireflies turn off their lights
the birds fall down the trees
i, who want
to still think and think to think some more
has no other option
i write
to make the Six Furies know
that i also know how to protect myself
that i am
a survivor
i do not speak here
but the Six Furies must stop a while and hear
they must listen
lest they shall die in their own noise
like fire on their long hair
i make
my plea,
i am guilty, i am guilty
i know i am guilty of all the lies and deceit
but give me more time please
to choose
a happy
death.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Seaside
(for Peter Ruppell)
You wrote such a love poem that I was
dumb-founded & left to scratch the sand
Alone in the surf I couldn’t join the bait-diggers
I’d left my fork and bucket at home
& I am not rough by nature
You were sitting on top of a boulder deep in the forest
It was taller than a man & surrounded by pine trees
I think there are pine trees on Fire Island
but I’ve never been to Fire Island, though
I can imagine & we all know what could happen
there, but. . . . . . .
& the world that started in a parked car
was really a fearful one — It would only lead
from one confusion to another
& I couldn’t do this to you on the giant highway
She was a reason in herself, & women need
the menace of ambiguity in their actions
so one action might well signify the opposite
— an act of sacrifice really the act of killing & revenge —
& this much was true
The exercise book was green & the distance
saved much embarrassment though you were
in many ways ignorant of this
I still can’t find my bucket & bait-fork
but this is only an excuse
poem by Lee Harwood
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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From Where I Come From
slopes of the
mountains
and a small patch
of a plain
on the side
of the river
where the grasses
thicken
like armpits
there is
a hut there
and some
trees around
years
and years
we stayed there
like there is no other
home for us
but then
time comes and
leaving becomes
a must for
each of us
we left and
we followed the
direction of the
wind towards
the sea of our
freedom
and here i
am
writing about
what my
ancestors
thought
leave and take
a journey
and find the
real path
the meaning
that we attach
to ourselves
to the direction
of the wind
towards the sea
and then
do not ever
think of the patch
of plain again
or the grasses
it is the wind
that leads us
the wind
the wind and nothing but
the sound of
the wind
freedom.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Back To An Old Place
it is summer
scorching summer
season creeping,
grasses are wilting
trees are shedding of
their last leaves,
what i see are bones
of trees,
skeletons of
branches,
the dry wind keeps
blowing the leaves
away,
what i have is this
bald surrounding
emptied of their
essence
beyond me are
brown mountains
vultures are
in the skies
eying for
death as prey
i sit upon a rock
the only rock
left here
i have no cover on
my head
i am half naked
i have no one to talk
to,
they have left this
arid place
a long time ago
i am back
i am telling the
sand soil,
i have something
to write and
tell the world
about it
it is summer
in this vast desert
a long time ago
this was ours
and the trees are green
grasses verdant
butterflies flutter
and innocently
land on our
hands.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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We Agree
AndersonHoweSquireWhite
September 11, 2001
Answers never clear again
This turning of the page
This turn look away
There I took a left turning
Before I came of age
I agreed to let it out
I agreed to let it go
I agreed to turn around
I agreed to turn my face away
Danger is the most important
Fear you'll ever know
The transporting of refugees
The silent night is cold
And all the time
We looked around
As we were never told
But we agreed to let it out
We agreed to let it go
We agreed to turn our backs
We agreed to turn our face away, away
Thousands to the million
Sisters, grandmothers and more
It's not the feast we throw away
It's the way we close the door
Their silence deafens every sound
We try just to ignore
To waste their future freedom
We'll regret forever more
I believe in
I believe in
These are the days that we will talk about
I believe in
I believe in
One understanding what is real
If we are one
Then we are refugees
We are the prisoners of our own design
If we are one
Seen through the eyes of a child
We will perpetuate this song of love
If we are one
Seen through the eyes of a child
We will perpetuate this song of love
If we are one
Seen through the eyes of a child
We will perpetuate this song
Perpetuate this song of love
Now we build the bridges
That we walk upon together
At the last count many lonely souls
The sadness always kills
Each breaking point is waiting
For the promise to fulfill
When we agree to turn the page
When we agree to help th
song performed by by Yes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We Agree
AndersonHoweSquireWhite
September 11, 2001
Answers never clear again
This turning of the page
This turn look away
There I took a left turning
Before I came of age
I agreed to let it out
I agreed to let it go
I agreed to turn around
I agreed to turn my face away
Danger is the most important
Fear you'll ever know
The transporting of refugees
The silent night is cold
And all the time
We looked around
As we were never told
But we agreed to let it out
We agreed to let it go
We agreed to turn our backs
We agreed to turn our face away, away
Thousands to the million
Sisters, grandmothers and more
It's not the feast we throw away
It's the way we close the door
Their silence deafens every sound
We try just to ignore
To waste their future freedom
We'll regret forever more
I believe in
I believe in
These are the days that we will talk about
I believe in
I believe in
One understanding what is real
If we are one
Then we are refugees
We are the prisoners of our own design
If we are one
Seen through the eyes of a child
We will perpetuate this song of love
If we are one
Seen through the eyes of a child
We will perpetuate this song of love
If we are one
Seen through the eyes of a child
We will perpetuate this song
Perpetuate this song of love
Now we build the bridges
That we walk upon together
At the last count many lonely souls
The sadness always kills
Each breaking point is waiting
For the promise to fulfill
When we agree to turn the page
When we agree to help th
song performed by by Yes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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a neighbor named tony somewhere in the Philippines
a neighbor named tony
is a Filipino and he just arrived yesterday
from the U S of A
we're happy to have him back
so the neighborhood can have his music and art back
(for he is a musician and a
visual artist
sculpture and painting
his skill
beside his expertise
in flowers and
gardening)
he says he is coming for good
in the US of A
he lost his work
and his Jewish master
has finally let him go
due to recession
he brings no money
and he meets no honey
his wife left him and took
all his children
at night he drinks himself
almost to death
he takes rock
and rocks himself all night
we have no way stopping him
we understand
what sorrow is
what life is
we wait how tony shall explain
his own death
we wish somehow
that he recovers
and then we may never
have any peace
in the Philippines.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Story Of My Old Man
i dont know too much about
too much of my old man
i know he walked right out the door
we never saw him again
last i heard he was at the bar
doing himself in
i know i got that same disease
i guess i got that from him
this is the story of my old man
just like his father before him
i'm telling you do anything you can
so you dont end just like them
like them
monday he woke up and hated life
drank until wednesday and left his wife
thursday through friday lost everything
woke up on sunday miserable again
i remember baseball games
and working on the car
he told me that he loved me
and that i would go far
showed me how to work hard
and stick up for myself
i wish he wasnt too hard
to listen to himself
this is the story of my old man
just like his father before him
i'm telling you do anything you can
so you dont end up just like them
like them
monday he woke up and hated life
drank until wednesday and left his wife
thursday through saturday lost everything
woke up on sunday miserable again
again
again
someday he'll wish that he made things right
made things right
long for his family and miss his wife
miss his wife
remember the days he had everything
everything
now he's alone and miserable again
song performed by by Good Charlotte
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Where Do I Go From Here?
(words & music by paul williams)
If I knew the way Id go back home
The countryside has changed so much Id surely end up lost
Half-remembered names and faces so far in the past
On the other side of the bridges that were burned once they were crossed
Tell me where, where does a fool go when theres no-one left to listen
To a story without meaning that nobody wants to hear
Tell me where, where does a fool go when he knows theres something missing
Tell me where, where will I go from here
Where will I go from here
Get back home where my childhood dreams and wishes still are none of my regrets
Go back to a place where I can figure all the odds
Have a fighting chance to lose the blues and win my share of bets
Tell me where, where does a fool go when theres no-one left to listen
To a story without meaning that nobody wants to hear
Tell me where, where does a fool go when he knows theres something missing
Tell me where, where will I go from here
Where will I go from here
Tell me where, where does a fool go when theres no-one left to listen
To a story without meaning that nobody wants to hear
Tell me where, where does a fool go when he knows theres something missing
Tell me where, where will I go from here
Where will I go from here
Tell me where, where does a fool go when theres no-one left to listen
To a story without meaning that nobody wants to hear
Tell me where, where does a fool go when he knows theres something missing
Tell me where, where will I go from here
Where will I go from here
Tell me where, where does a fool go when theres no-one left to listen
To a story without meaning that nobody wants to hear
Tell me where, where does a fool go when he knows theres something missing
Tell me where, where will I go from here
Where will I go from here
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Old Man
I dont know much about, too much of my old man
I know he walked right out the door we never saw him again
Last I heard he was at the bar doing himself in
I know I got that same disease, I guess I got that from him
This is the story of my old man
Just like his father before him
Im telling you do anything you can
So you dont end up just like them, like them
Monday he woke up and hated life
Drank until wednesday and left his wife
Thursday thru saturday lost everything
Woke up on sunday miserable again
I remember baseball games and working on the car
He told me that he loved me and that I would go far
Showed me how to work hard and stick up for myself
I wish he wasnt too hard to listen to himself
This is the story of my old man
Just like his father before him
Im telling you do anything you can
So you dont end up just like them, like them
Monday he woke up and hated life
Drank until wednesday and left his wife
Thursday thru saturday lost everything
Woke up on sunday miserable again
Again...again...
Someday hell wish that he made things right (made things right)
Long for his family and miss his wife (miss his wife)
Remember the days he had everything (everything)
Now hes alone and miserable again
song performed by by Good Charlotte
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Death
'Death is our eternal companion,' Don Juan said with a most serious air. 'It is always to our left, at an arm's length . . . It has always been watching you. It always will until the day it taps you.'
-Carlos Castaneda
My death
looks exactly like me.
She lives to my left,
at exactly an arm's length.
She has my face, hair, hands;
she ages
as I grow older.
Sometimes, at night,
my death awakens me
or else appears in dreams
I did not write.
Sometimes a sudden wind
blows from nowhere,
& I look left
& see my death.
Alive, I write
with my right hand only.
When I am dead,
I shall write with my left.
But later I will have to write
through others.
I may appear
to future poets
as their deaths.
poem by Erica Jong
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Trees Are Blabbermouths (Fun Poem 113)
A song on a south wind
whispers stories to the trees
of love affairs illicit
that no one should know,
but the trees are blabbermouths
telling anyone who’ll listen
all the secret that they know.
If you pass a tree one day
when its leaves are rustling
just listen and you will hear
the secrets it has been told
of love affairs illicit
that no one should know
because trees are blabbermouths.
They shout their words across the breeze
so everyone can hear.
If you have a secret
and want it to keep it that,
make sure the trees don’t hear
or that secret won’t be a secret
because the trees are blabbermouths.
14 March 2011
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tony Finally Got His Deer
Tony was out for revenge
always the one that got away
his cousin Pat and his friend Matt
woods brisk and chilly
Matt recently back
from the desert war
not sure what he was fighting for
Pat along for the hunt
Tony on top of the ridge
Pat and Matt down below
two sets of antlers
they had the spot
the spot was hot
get ready Matt, says Pat
I'ts your shot
no! you shoot says Matt
all is calm, then
suddenly
BOOM, BOOM
two blasts, two deer, lay lifeless
Tonys revenge
I sorry Pat uh
I had to shoot, dat dam deer uh
he avoiding me uh, for two years uh
now deer tease me uh
no more uh
poem by Matt Mondschein
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Escape
As I lose myself inside of a world of my own-
Perhaps a shadow would pass me by,
Or maybe a fawn would wade in the creek
Along side of the path I walk-
I fear other people, this world’s intruders.
I would break away from reality if only
There was a point of no return and escape towards
A place where I can look down
Upon this path I have walked before-
Far away from all of the people who slight, follow and wish me harm-
Evergreens and maple trees-
Wild rabbits, squirrels and wild geese roam about-
These are the ones I call my true friends-
I would dance in the sky if I could-
Lost inside of a world behind the clouds, as
The sun behind me is casting shadows
Upon the path that I am now walking
Shadows that shall transform to dreams-
Dreams of an eternal life inside this world of my own-
Listen- can you hear the calling of the wild?
Listen- can you hear the gentle breeze rustling the leaves within
The litheness of nature surrounding me?
Listen- can you hear the sound of my heart beating amorously as
My own shadow disappears behind myriads of towering oak trees?
Rain could begin to fall and
A storm could approach and now I can say in all honesty it would not matter-
My mind has finally locked the door to reality and I have tossed the key
To the rapids rushing up the creek beside me-I have finally escaped.
If thousands of people were to approach and cross the path upon which I make my way-
I have lost touch with all that is real and in flight of the imagination
There is no turning back- even if it is only with in a dream;
Nobody needs war, cacophony and disaster,
If one can be in union with nature and fantasy that can be found in
One’s own back yard and a gust of wind can carry away that key to the door of
Pain and misfortune. Follow the shadows cast by the sun, and
Never look back, as this world inside of your dreams could last for an eternity…
poem by Claudia Krizay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Young Poets
You speak for the lakes, the trees and the birds
You say what they'd say if they had the words.
Make PEACE and be proud, choose well every choice
Speak HOPE and speak loud, you are Nature's voice.
Speak with respect now, for jungles and streams,
Speak for all wildlife and dream giant dreams.
Speak with great courage, speak up and speak out,
Write with a whisper or write with a SHOUT!
Stand up young poets for clean air and rivers,
Free verse or lyric; your message delivers...
Truth to the future citizens of earth,
Speak of your freedom your friends and self worth.
Speak for tomorrow and though you're still young,
Speak for the Forest, your pen is her tongue.
The world waits to hear your songs still unsung
Words posses power, you can write the wrongs
Teach us and lead us with Poems and with songs.
Speak now for nature, for trees and for birds,
Defenders of Earth choose carefullly your words!
poem by ToddMichael St. Pierre
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Just live a good life
I wake up early this morning
Opening my computer
To read the emails and to
Write some thoughts in my mind
You pop out on the screen
With a big Good Day to me
You were fast on your pessimism
As I sip my coffee and read you
The world is ending
The climates changed
There is so much CO2
Humans have become
Slanderers and blasphemers
And God shall take his day
For this world’s destruction
I ask, if you have taken coffee
A pineapple juice or simply tea
I ask, if you had good sex last night
With your wife or someone else
I ask, if you are writing another poem
I ask, if you are taking a morning walk
With your dog or your son or daughter
I ask, if you have seen the sun rise
I ask, if you had a nice conversation
With a friend or an officemate
I ask, if you are living a good life
I ask, if you are being good and taking
Care of yourself, if you are praying, if
You are on the good side of the fence
You may not answer, I am taking a walk
I have just written a poem, I am answering
Emails of friends, I am seeing a beautiful
Sunrise today, its rays coming out from the trees.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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