Time and Leaves and Heaps
time runs
leaves fall
the ground is filled with heaps and heaps of them
the world too
is thickened by the leaves of time
heaps and heaps of what man once was
we bury all of them
time
leaves
heaps of leaves
so many times
we fall too like leaves
the world is thick of those like us
fair enough.
fair enough.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
The Tree Is Shedding Off Its Leaves
do not be surprised
to see this tree shedding off leaves
it is the season
for it to become a skeleton
it is like
that
giving off everything
what it gained
from the soil which gives it life
the tree is returning
heaps and heaps of leaves
for the wind
to blow and scatter to the earth
until what is left
is the bareness of it all
the one where we are now
a destiny into
emptiness
the glory of nothing
the splendor of being nothing at all
welcome! welcome!
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
My Silence Shall Be
i find this in the forest of trees
long trees, shady, such that what you can see
are only shadows of leaves
and what you hear is only the sound of the wind
choked between tight walls,
this is my silence,
moist, and soft, between a growth of wild
ferns
rotten leaves heaps and heaps of
rotten leaves
layer after layer of rotten leaves
thick and pushed still to the roots
smashed to the ground
some seeds from the oaks
or maybe from the flowers of the orchids
or some sweet fruits and red berries fall
in there
and they begin to grow
rich as humus is this soil down
the darkness of this forest,
this is my silence
deep inside me
moist, rotten, but soon
lots shall grow
seeds turning into sprouts
to trees again
perhaps taller than ever
some fruits so sweet and colored and shiny
some flowers scented and so lovely,
this my silence
shall be, i am keeping it for years
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
84
my silence shall be
i find this in the forest of trees
long trees, shady, such that what you can see
are only shadows of leaves
and what you hear is only the sound of the wind
choked between tight walls,
this is my silence,
moist, and soft, between a growth of wild
ferns
rotten leaves heaps and heaps of
rotten leaves
layer after layer of rotten leaves
thick and pushed still to the roots
smashed to the ground
some seeds from the oaks
or maybe from the flowers of the orchids
or some sweet fruits and red berries fall
in there
and they begin to grow
rich as humus is this soil down
the darkness of this forest,
this is my silence
deep inside me
moist, rotten, but soon
lots shall grow
seeds turning into sprouts
to trees again
perhaps taller than ever
some fruits so sweet and colored and shiny
some flowers scented and so lovely,
this my silence
shall be, i am keeping it for years
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Fall Of The House Of The Liars....
hidden beneath the layers of soil
and heaps and heaps of dry leaves
after several dry seasons
is the bullfrog,
it is kept there for good because when
it starts to croak
on such a deep, determined and truthful voice
our little world will be turning into
chaos...
perhaps out of respect for such a free creature
we promise to set it free
in due time
when the rain is heavy, when thunders roar,
when the flood comes and takes away everything
around this little place
this narrow river
so that when it croaks the truth about us
the rain and thunder may still conceal
what we fear the most
that shame of the future
this scandal,
this fall.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Determined Indifference
i like indifference
as a weapon, whether
happy
whatever carrot or stick
policy is used by the enemy
indifference sits on a bench
watches the big waves of the sea
unaffected
the wind wanders
the thousand eyes of the sand
look for a possible hint
on what is up to
they cannot find a thing
except the stare to nowhere
the calmness
amidst the sorrowful
leaves
heaps and heaps
on the ground
of emptiness
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
That Early Morning
under the trees
you tread upon a heap of leaves
only a few feet walked on this path
the winds came and gave a hush
it has been this way
since
meanwhile some rays of light
begin to pierce crevices between
touchy
the leaves fall like a confetti
you remember
once when freedom first arrived
in the streets of the city
you hear the shouts of joy
for liberation
you remember opening hands
some fists
it is over now
and what you have are the sounds of footsteps
on the heaps of leaves
on this path
where no one likes to tread again
you are
alone again but stronger this time
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Deus Ex Machina
she complains about the storm
last night
for the leaves are making heaps
and this morning
she will be sweeping them
the wind comes and sweeps away
all the leaves towards the pit
awed, she says, because she prays.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Meanings...
scattered
practically (hmm probably)
thoughts are
like dry, yellow, leaves
already unsure
from which twig did it
come from
no one asks about
the history of a leaf
no one
there are too many of them
meant either to be
blown away, buried upon their
own kind,
layer upon layer,
rotting upon one another
or simply just to be burned
heaps of them
turning into smoke
phantoms against
the rains of
dark skies
we are leaves
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Liu Ch'e
The rustling of the silk is discontinued,
Dust drifts over the court-yard,
There is no sound of foot-fall, and the leaves
Scurry into heaps and lie still,
And she the rejoicer of the heart is beneath them:
A wet leaf that clings to the threshold.
poem by Ezra Pound
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
On A Cemented Bench
on a cemented bench
under the talisay tree
dried leaves in heaps
a red ant bites
your foot on its territory
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
How I Wish You Do Not Understand My Language
speaking in tongues the drops of light fall on the pavement
of the church, worse, there were heads banging against other heads
and beards. Birds fly away, upon a thud of a pod,
pudding, leaves heaping, trees shedding off heaps of leaves,
and church bells ringing, i drag my feet drugged against the
ragged tags of the rugged rags, Sham, It is still painful.
How i wish you do not understand my language, Yet you
are speaking it, like i am the sham shaman of the shah of tehran.
it is your wedding day. I am here.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
When The Wind Blows
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
In my mind i see,
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
This is an emergency.
In a part of this once-great city
Stands a child crying out in pity.
Gone is hope in the heart of each hungry hour.
Every year in this land of plenty
There are millions of starving children
What will i say if they look my way?
This is an emergency.
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
In my mind i see,
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
This is an emergency.
Bow your heads to the lost generation
Scars so deep, bringing god's damnation.
Businessmen sip wine while congress argue.
But for grace we enjoy our pleasures
What we face will be our salvation
Go build your towns, but remember time will not forget
That this is an emergency.
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
This is an emergency.
Think of what the wise men said.
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
In my mind i see,
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
In my mind i see,
When the wind blows, many leaves will fall.
This is an emergency.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Life Of A Thinker
you do not know how is it to live as a thinker
literature has portrayed an old man to this art
long white beard, silver hair unkempt
baths sacrificed for the constant write
hands on the paper before him
dawn and night and day
nothing matters really now except those thoughts
heaps and heaps of books and files of papers abounding
the room and wall practically all not just pulp
but binders and paper clips as well
outside him the world changes
seasons keep on changing
light and darkness exchanged vows
the journey is about to end
he knows where he is
a place where time is dead.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Hypothetical Departures
the kettle is not
in its proper place
grains of rice
scattered on the
path
no birds pecking
this time
the cat on the fence
is keen
but helpless
leaves in heaps
there is no wind this time
i think about
burning
the curtains are
unmoved
dusts settle
layered
there is a story
to tell
the archeologists
are not bringing their
brushes
of history
even the winds
if you taste them
are bitter
when the gate opens
this time
no hand shall open it
again
a woman sits
staring blankly to a humid
morning
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Everyday I Feel That I Am Slowly Buried
i try to wake up and rise from my lowly state
and every hour that you face me i feel like a small turtle
in my silence beside the still river and you speak and explain
and argue like the wind and the leaves and the clouds
everyday when i am with you i feel like am being buried everyday
layer and layer of sand and pebbles and stones and twigs
and branches and heaps of leaves
i am losing my art of breathing and i am beginning to accept the fact
that you have the capacity to lose me
the world shrinks and the river becomes deeper
the view around me is crowded and dark and i look for you
i call for you and you are no longer there
sometimes i need to redefine love when companionship loses the grip
of hands.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The One With Heaps Of money
The one with heaps of money his or her friends in numbers grow
And the pauper is the person only the kind of heart wishes to know
And money speaks more of one than words can ever do
And if you are short of money I can only pity you,
That money speaks every language is something you ought not doubt
And those who battle to survive know what the hard life's about,
It is a necessity of life despite what some do say
That's why people to earn money go to work every day
In the poor suburb of the city where poverty is rife
The poorest and the homeless live a miserable life
If they had heaps of money how different life for them would be
That money is most important no need for to tell me,
Why paupers do have few friends no need to wonder why
And those with heaps of money their friends in numbers multiply.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Leaves
Leaves fall down on the ground.
Yellow.
Green.
Brown .
Which ones are the better leaves?
All of them are equal for they are all leaves.
Each leave may have a different shape and color but still not better than the other.
For humans are similar to leaves we may all have different shapes, sizes, and talents.
But all still human beings.
We fall.
We rise
And then pick ourselves up.
So we all aren't better than each other.
But just have different talents.
poem by Christina J. Williams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
When The Leaves Come Falling Down
I saw you standing with the wind and the rain in your face
And you were thinking bout the wisdom of the leaves and their grace
When the leaves come falling down
In september when the leaves, come falling down
And at night the moon is shining on a clear, cloudless sky
And when the evening shadows fall Ill be there by your side
When the leaves come falling down
In september when the leaves, come falling down
Follow me down, follow me down, follow me down
To the place beside the garden and the wall
Follow me down, follow me down
To the space before the twilight and the dawn
Oh, the last time I saw paris in the streets, in the rain
And as I walk along the boulevards with you, once again
And the leaves come falling down
In september, when the leaves come falling down
Follow me down, follow me down, follow me down
To the place between the garden and the wall
Follow me down, follow me down
To the space between the twilight and the dawn
And as Im looking at the colour of the leaves, in your hand
As were listening to chet baker on the beach, in the sand
When the leaves come falling down,
Woe in september, when the leaves come falling down
Oh when the leaves come falling down
Yeah in september when the leaves come falling down
When the leaves come falling down
In september, when the leaves come falling down
When the leaves come falling down in september, in the rain
When the leaves come falling down
When the leaves come falting down in september, in the rain
When the leaves come falling down
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Two heads weaken
Two brothers as two hands worked together
And made heaps from dust; they soon got married.
Since then they started working as two heads,
Heaps sliding to dust. Two hands together
Are stronger than two heads put together.
07.02.2005
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
George Edmunds' Song
Autumn leaves, autumn leaves, lie strewn around he here;
Autumn leaves, autumn leaves, how sad, how cold, how drear!
How like the hopes of childhood's day,
Thick clust'ring on the bough!
How like those hopes in their decay-
How faded are they now!
Autumn leaves, autumn leaves, lie strewn around me here;
Autumn leaves, autumn leaves, how sad, how cold, how drear!
Wither'd leaves, wither'd leaves, that fly before the gale:
Withered leaves, withered leaves, ye tell a mournful tale,
Of love once true, and friends once kind,
And happy moments fled:
Dispersed by every breath of wind,
Forgotten, changed, or dead!
Autumn leaves, autumn leaves, lie strewn around me here!
Autumn leaves, autumn leaves, how sad, how cold, how drear!
poem by Charles Dickens
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!