Time Does Not Make Me Notice
been away
and been busy
the usual answer
to any inquiry
this time
i sit upon a chair
facing the sea
on the porch of the
old house
that papa left me
when he died
five years ago
the bamboo
on the side facing
the big mountains
has grown tall
and its leaves
are outreaching
the trees
i feel so small
like a sparrow
and i feel the
wings unfurling
feathers on my
sides
i have long
wished for this:
flying away from here
and not coming back
now it is a reality.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
425
one more day papa
for me to get to know you more
how the days and years have built a wall between us
how you kept on telling me that after mama died the years had become so
hollow and even so cruel
one day more papa
you have always repeated that we are destined to be split
like a bamboo
and that sharp bolo does it with nothing but seconds
i leave back to where i am
and you will be staying to where you are
you tell me your heart is broken
but i will not tell you that mine too is bleeding
one day more papa and there will be no other days
i have long been dead away from your hands
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Mountain View
after the night of love
i sit on the bamboo stair
facing the wide expanse of
mountains before me
beyond the horizon of fog
and smoke from the tiny
houses five hills away
and down the plains the
winding river taking the
usual routes of least resistance
i have seen wild carabaos grazing
white horses running with the
winds and the black birds
flying high seeking their prey
of chicks unprotected by hens.
i am amazed by this macrocosm.
How can some be so greedy amidst
these bounty? Can his hands hold
all the mountains? Can his mouth
drink all the rivers? Can he catch
all the black birds and put them
inside his cage? I know he can't but
i know he will. And that is the reason
why we are here hiding in the bellies
of these big mountains, siding with the
shades of the trees, taking inspiration
from all the stars, the moon and the
boundless sea.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Sea Is Very Calm This Morning
the sea is very calm this morning
the talisay leaves are not disturbed by the breeze
my mama is sitting on a bench
combing her long hair
saying nothing
under a tree
beside our little nipa hut
facing the horizon
on the other side is a big house
whose iron gate is painted red
a big man comes out
rushing as though
he is chasing someone
holding a stick on his hand
shouting at the child
playing with my small brother
inside the yard
of our house
the child of that man is frightened
and runs as fast as he can
back to their house
his father catches him
beating his legs
with the stick on his
right hand
i can still hear the cry of that frightened child
from the very beating of his own papa
what a mess!
i could have told you once again about the peace
and the calm and the quiet of the sea on a morning like this
but it is not true anymore
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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On A Calm River
on a calm river
a wooden sail
and a man paddling
his way toward
a small town
some bamboo
leaves on the
side of this
postcard from
my beloved mama
when she left papa.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Soledad
in true faith to her name
she lives alone in a small house
on the side of a hill
the trees are cut and the grasses
have grown taller
the house sheds of window panes
pillars recede their heights
soledad in true faith to her name
continues to live alone in that small house
on the side of the dead hill
she waits for her beloved
who long died in the war.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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On the Lake (1)
Mountain monks facing chess sit
Board on bamboo dark quiet
Shine bamboo no person see
Sometimes hear down chess piece sound
Two monks sit facing, playing chess on the mountain,
The bamboo shadow on the board is dark and clear.
Not a person sees the bamboo's shadow,
One sometimes hears the pieces being moved.
The Waves Of The Sea
i launder my whole body to the sea
with a bamboo pole i float and facing
the horizon i meet every wave every foam
i touch an endless coming and coming and coming
this must be what the sea is all about
everything is coming and yet nothing gets filled.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Marianne
(as interpreted by virgin records japan)
(accuracy is not guaranteed)
I take one look at you
It leaves me breathless
I see your dreams come true
Youre not so restless
Or light, or bright
Marianne
One day I might not care
What happens to me
Your lack of sympathy fails to disturb me
Ive got a life of my own
I remember the day
I thought we couldnt lose
Running round the garden in your mothers shoes
Playing silly sisters
And drinking green tea
On a cold autumn day
Someones car had broken down
The best of summer ends
When you give a celebration
We can leave but we cant really go on
It would spoil the celebration
Anita, all thats left is us facing a life
That goes on as before
One day I might not care
What happens to me
Your lack of sympathy
Fails to disturb me
Ive got a life of my own
Anita, all thats left is us facing a life
That goes on as before
Marianne
Anita, all thats left is us facing a life
That goes on as before
Marianne
Anita, all thats left is us facing a life
That goes on as before
Marianne
Anita, all thats left is us facing a life
At the end of the world
Marianne
song performed by by Human League
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Time For Heroes
We search for an answer,
And when it appears
We can challenge the world with our sweat and our tears.
Through winning and losing,
The brave never bend,
The hero keeps fighting, standing tall in the end.
Time can change anything...and mend any fall.
The moment of truth is facing us all,
It's time for the hero to stand tall.
It's a time for heroes,
Time to answer the call,
It's a time for the hero in us all.
We carry the flame
For all to see
The fire and the passion, of what we can be.
Sometimes we must fight,
But we never bend
The hero keeps fighting, standing tall in the end.
Love can change anything...it's inside of us all
To reach out a hand whenever we fall.
It's time for the hero to stand tall.
It's a time for heroes,
Time to answer the call,
It's a time for the hero to stand tall.
It's a time for heroes,
When our back's to the wall
It's a time for the hero...in us all
song performed by by Meat Loaf
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On Silent Wings
(t. j. white, j. ralston)
Producer: trevor horn
Album: wildest dreams (96)
Special guest: sting
There was a time when I would have followed you
To the end of the earth
I was willing to share it all with you
The love, the hurt
Ive seen you when your dreams were falling in the dust
But I never stopped believing in you
I always thought our love was strong enough
One you could hold on to
You never see it coming
You just let it fly
On silent wings, silent wings
You cant hide what you you feel inside
And the fire has left your eyes
On silent wings
I see us in our dreams and were dancing
I can almost hear the song
But the prayers, they go unanswered
But we both know, were just hanging on
I feel ashamed, but Ill never know the reason why
The rug was pulled so gently from under my feet
I only know that something good has died
Between you and me, oh its just a memory
You never see it coming
You just go separate ways
On silent wings, silent wings
Theres no more promises to break
Or our love has slipped away
On silent wings
You never see it coming
But you know it has to end
On silent wings, silent wings
I will never be the same again
I feel the whisper of the wind
On silent wings
song performed by by Tina Turner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Float And Facing
i launder my whole body to the sea
with a bamboo pole i float and facing
the horizon i meet every wave every foam
what i see is an endless coming and coming and coming
this must be what the sea is all about
the waves come with the salty water and yet nothing gets filled.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Same Old Song
And the band starts playing
The same old song again
The monks start praying
To the same God again
But He has grown,
He's grown tired
Maybe its time
That he retired
He's grown selfish,
He's grown Greedy
Bless the homeless
And the needy
And the band start playing
The same old song again
The old are still aging
Its new years eve again
But they've grown stupid,
They've grown lazy
They've grown senile,
and gone crazy
They've grown new cancers,
And suffer old ulcers
There are new medicines,
which might be the answer
And the band start playing
The same old song again
And here I am sitting
Back in that same chair again
You were cold,
and you were hearltless
Still you insist
that you are faultless
You are selfish
and you were cruel
How long must you torture
this young fool
And the band start playing
The same old song again
And when it ends
I press rewind again
I am drunk, and feel so sleepy
And in this room I'm feeling creepy
Maybe we sat here too long
Maybe I should stop listening
To our Old Song
poem by Niroda Abboud
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A Memory Of Love
I came upon a house so bare.
I knew there could be no one there.
I wished to enter so I knocked.
No one answered. The door was locked.
I saw a window through which I peered
and saw it looked just as I feared,
lonely, deserted, cold and musty
cobwebs hanging, everything dusty.
The need to go inside
was an urgency I could not hide.
Should I break the door or shatter the pane?
Encouragement came when I felt the rain.
I entered slowly and looked around
amazed and astounded at what I found.
Every room was empty but for one,
a bedroom with chair facing towards sun.
Beside the chair was a frame
holding the picture of a girl with no name.
Curiosity got the best of me
so I turned it over and I did see
her name scribbled hastily.
'Janette, my love I give to you
this picture I love to sit and view.'
and then I placed it back.
The house was no longer cold to me
for it housed a loving memory.
I left it right beside the chair
as if the lover still was there.
Upon leaving the bedroom I closed the door
so it would stay as it was before.
My intrusion on this private place
as I exited left a smile on my face.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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The Phenomenology Of The Sparrow
you have seen a sparrow
on a twig
pulling with its beak
a ripe guava
you have seen how it flies away
after a very short fill
do you feel the freedom of its wings?
do you hear the wind beneath its feathers?
do you wish to capture it on a trap
using a latex sap?
do you wish to catch it with your hands
and feel its softness with your fingers?
when you put it in a cage
is it beautiful
to see it sad and
be not able to fly and to sing
on a beautiful morning?
or is it more beautiful flying with the wind
singing freely its own songs of freedom
rather than be silent
and sad in your very own hands?
have you ever felt
once in your life
that you are a sparrow
too tiny
too soft
too innocent
for another
creature's
cruelty and cunning?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Swallows (Brisbane Sonnet)
There is a happy bird, a little one
when all the other birds do move abroad
that is flying chirping everywhere
until the time comes that the sun is gone
small swallows fill the air over the road
twisting, hurtling up and down through the air
flying to and fro, flying very fast,
like fighters they dive over the bridge,
over the water as if visiting fish
skimming along as long as the day lasts,
catching small insects, every midge
they make me feel young and somewhat impish,
flying on long pointed wings and turning,
dropping from where the hot sun is burning.
poem by Gert Strydom
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I Am Glad That You Are Into Haiku
i must imagine
you sitting on a chair
facing the void
at the window
and then you see
what reality has long
concealed from you
was it a butterfly
that you have mistaken as
another leaf?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Man Aint Made Of Stone
(gary burr/robin lerner/franne golde)
I was supposed to be the rock that you could stand on
Stronger than an old oak tree
But all you ever wanted was the one thing
I never let you see -
The tender side of me
I tried to be a mountain, solid and strong
All it took was your leaving to know I was wrong
A man aint made of stone
A man aint made of steel
The way I feel right now
I thought Id never feel
Sometimes all it takes
Is facing the night alone
And thats when you know
A man aint made of stone
In this world of mine
There was no room for weakness
I covered every crack in the wall
But there aint no way that I can keep this secret
Cos when you go like jerico I fall
You thought I wouldnt shatter
Would I even care?
But theres more to what Im made of
Than this broken heart can bare
A man aint made of stone
A man aint made of steel
The way I feel right now
I thought Id never feel
Sometimes all it takes
Is facing the night alone
And thats when you know
A man aint made of stone
Sometimes all it takes
Is facing the night alone
And thats when you know
A man aint made of stone
Thats when you know
A man aint made of stone
song performed by by Randy Travis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Little Girl's Song
Do not mind my crying, Papa, I am not crying for pain.
Do not mind my shaking, Papa, I am not shaking with fear;
Tho' the wild wild wind is bideous to hear,
And I see the snow and the rain.
When will you come back again,
Papa, Papa?
Somebody else that you love, Papa,
Somebody else that you dearly love
Is weary, like me, because you're away.
Sometimes I see her lips tremble and move,
And I seem to know what they're going to say;
And every day, and all the long day,
I long to cry, 'Oh Mamma, Mamma,
When will Papa come back again?'
But before I can say it I see the pain
Creeping up on her white white cheek,
As the sweet sad sunshine creeps up the white wall,
And then I am sorry, and fear to speak;
And slowly the pain goes out of her cheek,
As the sad sweet sunshine goes from the wall.
Oh, I wish I were grown up wise and tall,
That I might throw my arms round her neck
And say, 'Dear Mamma, oh, what is it all
That I see and see and do not see
In your white white face all the livelong day?'
But she hides her grief from a child like me.
When will you come back again,
Papa, Papa?
Where were you going, Papa, Papa?
All this long while have you been on the sea?
When she looks as if she saw far away,
Is she thinking of you, and what does she see?
Are the white sails blowing,
And the blue men rowing,
And are you standing on the high deck
Where we saw you stand till the ship grew gray,
And we watched and watched till the ship was a speck,
And the dark came first to you, far away?
I wish I could see what she can see,
But she hides her grief from a child like me.
When will you come back again,
Papa, Papa?
Don't you remember, Papa, Papa,
How we used to sit by the fire, all three,
And she told me tales while I sat on her knee,
And heard the winter winds roar down the street,
And knock like men at the window pane,
And the louder they roared, oh, it seemed more sweet
To be warm and warm as we used to be,
Sitting at night by the fire, all three?
When will you come back again,
Papa, Papa?
Papa, I like to sit by the fire;
Why does she sit far away in the cold?
If I had but somebody wise and old,
That every day I might cry and say,
'Is she changed, do you think, or do I forget?
Was she always as white as she is to-day?
Did she never carry her head up higher?'
Papa, Papa, if I could but know!
Do you think her voice was always so low?
Did I always see what I seem to see
When I wake up at night and her pillow is wet?
You used to say her hair it was gold-
It looks like silver to me.
But still she tells the same tale that she told,
She sings the same songs when I sit on her knee,
And the house goes on as it went long ago,
When we lived together, all three.
Sometimes my heart seems to sink, Papa,
And I feel as if I could be happy no more.
Is she changed, do you think, Papa,
Or did I dream she was brighter before?
She makes me remember my snowdrop, Papa,
That I forgot in thinking of you,
The sweetest snowdrop that ever I knew!
But I put it out of the sun and the rain:
It was green and white when I put it away,
It had one sweet bell and green leaves four;
It was green and white when I found it that day,
It had one pale bell and green leaves four,
But I was not glad of it any more.
Was it changed, do you think, Papa,
Or did I dream it was brighter before?
Do not mind my crying, Papa,
I am not crying for pain.
Do not mind my shaking, Papa,
I am not shaking for fear;
Tho' the wild wild wind is hideous to hear,
And I see the snow and the rain.
When will you come back again,
Papa, Papa?
poem by Sydney Thompson Dobell
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Long Time Coming
Long time coming
But no one seen it coming
Long gone then
And your heart is still running
Now you're thinking bout the times
And the things you should've done
Well you might as well forget it
In the end you have won
Long-gone letters
Well it makes you feel better
Now you spend your days calm
But you spend the night shattered
It's a long time now
To be left in no doubt
It's a long time change
Do you still feel the same?
And you just can't shake that mood
Cause she's poisoned all your food
Now you're bogged down in those blues
And you just can't shake them loose
It's a long time coming
It's a long time now
To be left in no doubt
It's a long time change
Do you still feel the same?
Long time coming
song performed by by Zutons
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Snow And The Love Of Home
inside that cheap apartment
you sit on the chair facing a dining table
a bowl of oatmeal
a cup of coffee
three asparagus sticks
sea noodle cup ready for lunch
crackers and biscuits for dinner
Mozart is played as you look beyond
the glass doors and windows facing
a clean sheet of snow covering the path
leading to the gate and the road
on the other side of the house
Facebook is open
and you just take a peek on those that dropp by
and say hello
you write a line saying,
'dear friend i am editing some pictures...'
taken last night at the party and you will be emailing
some of the happy pictures back home
those with the smiles of the big snowman
it is another lonely night
you want to kill yourself but you just
can't because some people who love you
wait for you back home
as you promised
'whew! The pictures are simply out of focus! '
your hands keep
busy
always on some other things
to keep them out from
that barren desert
'Cool! ' you make a comment on the Friendster picture
of a friend hugging a new boyfriend in Hongkong.
It is so cold. It is so lonely.
But it does not kill you somehow.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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