Time To Rest For A While
the letters
on the screen glow
like fireflies
my fears come out
like bats from
a cave
there is a sea urchin
on my nape
some flies hover
on the key board
a bee is circling
on my head
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
Above a enemy camp
A mirage fighter jet flies past
like a angel going in advance
on the crusade.
There’s an enemy camp
going up in flames
and clouds of smoke
hanging ominous
over the place
while our aeroplane
flies to the right height.
With the sun
showing its head
over the horizon,
I fall like a bat
breaking through the airspace
and right around me
the sky is full
of other bats
that decent angry on the target
with fangs exposed downwards.
[Reference: Bats here refers to “parabats” as South African airborne soldiers were known.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Life And Death.
We come like bats that out of a dark cave
Have suddenly been scared into the day,
Blear-eyed and vexed as here and there they flap,
Unnatural denizens of such a world.
So seem we all, as this were not our home,
And we, as aliens in these elements,
Move here and there, purblind, heart-weary, and
Possessed with many fears, till Death's new dark
Shows us our passage back to the old cave,
Whence Birth before may have affrighted us.
poem by Robert Crawford
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three flies circling
the frog
two flies circling
Little Birds
at the cave
one afternoon when the day is closing
a breath of bats
on the hillsides
a string of little birds
like tiny stones
thrown to the fields
the sun is through
the moon rises from the hills again
we sit side by side
watching this gentle glow
this nature's show
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Lizard
there is this friendship
between this lizard
and me,
one day it lands on my nape
and crawls on its cold
tiny feet on my nape
to my head and
stays as my watcher
on my hair
and then i slept so tight
forgetting about
everything sad
and depressing.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Where's Your Head At?
Wheres your head at??
Wheres your head at??
Wheres your head at??
Dont let the walls
Cave in on you
We cant evolve alone
Without you
Dont let the walls
Cave in on you
We cant evolve alone
Without you
Dont let the walls
Cave in on you
You get what you give
That much is true
Dont let the walls
Cave in on you
You turned the world away
From you
Wheres your head at??
Wheres your head at??
Wheres your head at??
You have found yourself
Trapped in this
Incomprehensible maze
Wheres your head at??
Wheres your head at??
Dont make it easy on yourself
Wheres your head at??
Got to get
Got to get
Got to get
Got to get
Wheres your head at??
Wheres your head at??
Wheres your head at??
Wheres your head at??
Dont let the walls
Cave in on you
We cant evolve alone
Without you
Dont let the walls
Cave in on you
We cant evolve alone
Without you
Wheres your head at??
Wheres your head at??
We cant evolve alone
Without you
We cant evolve alone
Without you
song performed by by Fat Joe
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Like the Flies in Winter
like flies at the end of summer/we all slow down as age advances, as age, time and clocks advance/ the coming ocean of time/like London Bridges, we all fall down
Like flies in winter, near a cold white windowpane, who are slowing like molasses. Cold lonliness on one side/white paint chips on the other
Like flies in winter/flies in autumn, who are swimming throught the air in slow motion.
Not so much the flies of summer
godblessamen
like fireflies flickering in the end/we are here and we are gone,
we eventually burn out.
poem by Samuel Stuart Pennell
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Soft Kissing Eureka Moment Days
been writing my fireflies
fireflies always buzz my mind
illuminating my solo nights
soft kissing eureka moment days
shall I share my dear enchantment fireflies
as fireflies dance through my mind
poem by Terence George Craddock
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A Journey
I didnot board on a train
I didnot go by bus
I heard from the lips of a crane
That a transport is available
Inside the cave ofa tree
No sooner than I entered the cave
There was a cavity that gobbled me up
And now I am here among you
Longing for this mans scope
And that mans talent
poem by Dr. Ramesh Chandra Mukhopadhyaya
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A test of menopause
A lad and lass, in a hottest day,
On the shore of Elliot Beach, at dusk
Stood pressed, her hands round his nape,
His circling her waist, inviting each wave
To get drenched and pressed still more-
A sight that triggered in me a jealousy,
A sign that I am under menopause.
29.05.2003
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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How I Wish I Was A Child
I took my children out one night,
They shouted out, what's that,
I said that thing that just flew by,
Well that is called a Bat.
A Bat they said's for baseball,
They think I'm telling lies,
They said it's used to hit a ball,
It's not a thing that flies.
I tried to say it's similar,
To an Aeroplane or a Bird,
They love to soar across the sky,
But they're saying that's absurd.
I then tried to explain myself,
To make them understand,
That I would never lie to them,
There was nothing underhand.
I said it came out late at night,
To hunt for tiny Bugs,
It didn't need to use its eyes,
They said, do you think we're Mugs.
I told them Bats used sonar,
Like Dolphins in the sea,
They send a sound when it bounces back,
That's where their food will be.
They said Dad you're talking nonsense,
Bats are made of wood,
We don't believe a word you say,
But we truly wish we could.
You tell us tall tales all the time,
With the truth you're very sparse,
We know they're made up in your head,
Your stories are all a farce.
I then tried to convince them,
That what I was saying was true,
But I'm fighting a losing battle,
What more can I do.
There really is no hope for me,
I've tried everything I know,
But my children just won't listen,
I think I'd better go.
If only I were young again,
Then I wouldn't feel so riled,
I would know what they were thinking,
‘' How I Wish I Was A Child''
A Little Discomfort
there is a little pain
that goes on and on
and on,
a prick at the finger
tip, a pressure on the
toe, something steps
at you,
an idea
a discomfort of your
mind,
you write it
it rebels
the description is
short of what it
really is
and this is always
everyday
at dawn you wake
up
some luminous
letters are dancing
above your
head
glowing like
fireflies
tumbling and
whirling and
staring
at times
you write about it
again
but they melt
like your
dreams
on the floor
there is nothing
left
some dusts you
breathe
from the
dark carpet
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Bats of Darkness
As I see the sun
my heart floats like a balloon
I'd hate to admit it
but i'm acting like an idiot
We all know that light will die
as darkness creeps up upon the muddy soil under our feet
As the sun goes down
bats are not sleeping
As dusk weaves itself over our sky
darkness awakes with our bats
Most people think the sun will come back
after we wake the next day, not a fact
Darkness will stay as long as we shall live
and we turn into bats
The winged creatures of the night woke up
from the jolly spirit of the day
Bats shall live forever,
will feast on fruit
The sun is gone and the flowers run away
for without the sun they all die
Do you fear us?
poem by Stephen Black
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It’s dark in here
While I am walking
inside a cave,
it's rather dark in here
I wonder how people
could have lived in this place
and in my mind’s eye
I see them gathering
around hot fires
with bright red and yellow flames
leaping into the air
and blown higher by the slight draft.
They must have fried
some of the antelope
sketched in yellow, red, brown
and black on the wall
and although the stalagmites
and stalactites on the floor
of the cave are rather beautiful
there’s a chill in the air.
Without light I cannot see
were to go
and in ancient times
bats must have nested
against the roof
and somehow people
made this dark place
their home
and still it’s dark in here.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Young Girl: Annam
I AM a young girl;
I live here alone:
I write long letters
But there is no one
For me to send them to. My heart
Teaches me loving words to use,
But I can repeat them only
In the garden, to the tall bamboos.
Expectantly I stand beside the door. I raise
The hanging mat. I,
The letter folded, gaze out
And see shadows of the passers-by.
In the garden the fire-flies
Quench and kindle their soft glow:
I am one separated,
But from whom I do not know.
poem by Padraic Colum
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Flies
I never kill a fly because
I think that what we have of laws
To regulate and civilize
Our daily life - we owe to flies.
Apropos, I'll tell you of Choo, the spouse
Of the head of the hunters, Wung;
Such a beautiful cave they had for a house,
And a brood of a dozen young.
And Wung would start by the dawn's red light
On the trailing of bird or beast,
And crawl back tired on the brink of night
With food for another feast.
Then the young would dance in their naked glee,
And Choo would fuel the fire;
Fur and feather, how good to see,
And to gorge to heart's desire!
Flesh of rabbit and goose and deer,
With fang-like teeth they tore,
And laughed with faces a bloody smear,
And flung their bones on the floor.
But with morning bright the flies would come,
Clouding into the cave;
You could hardly hear for their noisy hum,
They were big and black and brave.
Darkling the day with gust of greed
They'd swarm in the warm sunrise
On the litter of offal and bones to feed -
A million or so of flies.
Now flies were the wife of Wung's despair;
They would sting and buzz and bite,
And as her only attire was hair
She would itch from morn to night:
But as one day she scratched her hide,
A thought there came to Choo;
"If I were to throw the bones outside,
The flies would go there too."
That spark in a well-nigh monkey mind,
Nay, do not laugh or scorn;
For there in the thoughts of Choo you'll find
Was the sense of Order born;
As she flung the offal far and wide,
And the fly-cloud followed fast,
Battening on the bones outside
The cave was clear at last.
And Wung was pleased when he came at night,
For the air was clean and sweet,
And the cave-kids danced in the gay firelight,
And fed on the new-killed meat;
But the children Choo would chide and boss,
For her cleanly floor was her pride,
And even the baby was taught to toss
His bite of a bone outside.
Then the cave crones came and some admired,
But others were envious;
And they said: "She swanks, she makes us tired
With her complex modern fuss."
However, most of the tribe complied,
Though tradition dourly dies,
And a few Conservatives crossly cried:
"We'll keep our bones and our flies."
So Reformer Choo was much revered
And to all she said: "You see
How my hearth is clean and my floor is cleaned,
And there ain't no flies on me"...
And that was how it all began,
Through horror of muck and mess,
Even in prehistoric Man,
LAW, ORDER and CLEANLINESS'.
And that is why I never kill
A fly, no matter how obscene;
For I believe in God's good will:
He gave us vermin to make us clean.
poem by Robert William Service
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Circling Around The Moon
There may come a day when you grow weary
Troubled waters stain the paper cup
From other venues other voices carry
Slipped dreams soaking into thirsty dust
Maybe then and there youll find another
Lover with a blank and empty heart
Filled with breath and old cells to discover
Strenght to push the seas apart
Chorus:
On the day we met
I began to want you
On the day we met
I began to lose you too
Both of us circling around the moon
Both of us circling around the moon
There may come a day when you feel anger
China cracked and glued by clumsy hand
Veins of memory touching only hunger
The heart devours what it cannot understand
Chorus:
On the day we met
I began to want you
On the day we met
I began to lose you too
Both of us circling around the moon
Both of us circling around the moon
Maybe it whas then I saw my future
Saw it as a shadow on the ground
Beneath the earth old nails to discover
Strenght to hold my body down
Chorus:
On the day we met
I began to want you
On the day we met
I began to lose you too
Both of us circling around the moon
Both of us circling around the moon
On the day we met
I began to want you, want you
On the day we met
I began to lose you too
Both of us circling around the moon
Both of us circling around the moon
Both of us circling around the moon
song performed by by John Mellencamp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Gladiators for clowns
Heroine of love, tangling our hearts with barb wire,
made of gold and human emotion
until I enter you, and you enter me,
like blind bats in a cave,
fighting each other like gladiators in the world's arena
entertaining clowns, with our blood.
You have your hundred swords prepared,
I only have a wooden shield.
It does not matter, life was never righteous for the two of us
in the matters of love.
Secretly wishing you'd understand my pain, I write curious things
in secret love letters, that are never meant to be seen
by the hate, or love, of your friends.
Bravely ignoring you outside this room,
like I could rule the world at any time,
I'm boundlessly pained
by the absence of your absence
in the life I have no more,
where You were my heroine.
poem by Serban Raducu Bogdan
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You”re Still You
The same hair curling on your head
At 49, you look younger,
There are no wrinkles on your forehead
The cheeks still smooth and tight
Your eyes still glow
Like fireflies reflected in the mirror
The moon against the sky
The way you talk defies the years of your absence
The way you look at me
Your way your gaze flies like a butterfly
Hovering back to me like tender hands
Of a woman
Caressing my face
Like golden yellow wing
Fluttering on the petals of a flower
Indeed, you are still you
Loving me
In gentle restraint and
I am deeply saddened
By my own kind of same
Usual indifference
Of the clouds drifting
Without even the thought
Of stopping by the
Peaks of trees
As you open yourself to the sun like
A tight bud opening its petals
Finally exposing its true gentle colors
A flower blooming
To the kindness of sunshine
And the freshness of the air
That this world can offer
I spread my wings like a yellow butterfly
Fluttering away to another garden
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Ruminations
If there were a cave
That I could wander into
I'd shout your name inside of it
And hear the echo of you.
To have it reverberate loudly
Might drown out my pain,
Pierce my ears, trouble my head
Where thoughts of you remain.
And as it bounced around inside
I'd welcome the chill of the cave.
For I'd know that as I exited it
Maybe my heart could behave.
For I'd find my heart is hollow
Like the cave I'd just been in.
And I'd feel the icy chill again
For your touch is absent from my skin.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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