Today I Try To Pick Up The Shattered Pieces
today i try to pick up the shattered
pieces of myself and yourself
every piece, and color and shape
compared and analyzed
to make each fit and be the whole
as us again
i put the bond to fix the edges
to make them stick as though
nothing was ever broken
i do not wish to blink and then fall asleep
the hours run like there is no way to tame them
they say they are always on a rush
and no one has ever stopped them
i tremble on some tiny pieces
and have a hard time solving the puzzle
where do they fit so well?
to deceive our eyes
to give triumph to the healing of the hands
i am a failure on some interstices
there are leaks of light
& tiny holes
there is so much emptiness
this hollow wholeness
i have failed and i am lost and so here i am
back to your arms
wanting to be a definite part of you
to seal what leak is there
to put off the tiny lights
to reconstruct the smoothness of the edges
to love you and be loved by you
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Heart Broken Into Pieces
piecing together the broken pieces
takes so much of my time
this heart is broken and the pieces
shattered pieces
are too tiny to be pieced again
i am a very impatient man
on love
on matter of the heart
i give up, i cannot piece the broken pieces again
too much pain
guess what? i have just thrown my heart away
look at me?
my eyes are calm, my body stable
pierce my skin with a needle
it does not hurt anymore
my eyes have no tears
my mouth does not tremble
my legs are tall and stable
heartless, i shall love no one this time.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Next Poem
this is the next poem that i am telling you about.
it wants to tell you something, but not in secret really,
i am open, and i like open fields, like open ideas
wanting to embrace and be embraced by the world.
absence too, is open. The open arms wait for the coming
of absence. Absence is a wide space wanting to be filled by
love, and love is elusive, and love is unresponding to the
emergencies we are in.
but let me not talk about it. Let me tell you and take you back
to what i have started. I like the mirror in the living room broken
into a hundred pieces, all in the name of love.
i like to have as many mirrors as i can have. Tiny broken pieces.
I will take one. And all i want in this short life that we have,
the life of a fruitfly inside that experimental cupboard,
or that transparent cellophane, let death come.
i have this piece of broken glass. I want to reflect my light.
Do you like it? I want to reflect the light of God, do you like it?
Take it for what it is. Each piece has a reflective index of its own.
The face value of things. Do you like it?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Tiny Drop
Waste of Tiny, Tiny Water Drops.
Always Trigger my Conscious Thoughts.
A Tiny Water Drop can make a Sapling Laugh
Tiny, Tiny water Drops can get you sweet Pod.
Tiny, Tiny Water Drops can make a Plant to Stand
As a Tree, This can give Shelter to a Lot.
Because of Waste of Tiny, Tiny water Drops
Many lives have become short.
So try to save even tiny water Drop, Which will
Get you Heartily Laugh.
poem by Narendra Kuppan
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Without You
I miss you with your
happy face
Being without you
is a hell
I do not wish to be in
this place
The world is not
the same
My tears are dropping
never ceases
Like the waters of the
great niagra
My heart is broken into
tiny pieces
Like a thousand piece
jigsaw puzzle
With one crucial piece
missing
It will never be put
together again
poem by Rachel Nichols
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The Other
I sit at this tiny table
and wait
as I have before
for you to make
excuses to get
away;
to steal the tiny time
you have with me.
I know I should go,
break away
and leave
but I don't.
I sip my coffee
swirling in the cup
mixing my milk
and your strong brew.
Perhaps one day
there will be a me and you
but today-right now
there is only me.
I feel you at my side
suddenly
your face
comes over me
and once again
there is the peace
you offer
each time we meet.
That is the drug
which overpowers
each time
I
the other woman;
and we
reach across
the tiny table
re-joined
in tiny time
the tiny space
we allow ourselves
to enjoy
rarely,
this other me
that other you.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Im so lost without You
All I see is continous darkness,
As though light was you,
What am I without you,
You left me hanging,
Yes when I needed you most,
I was so wrong to let go,
Yet so right to understand
Im thinking of you honey,
Nothing can be done I know,
Today is blameless for this,
Neither is yesterday,
I carry the pain of my wrongs,
The hugs are fading on and on,
The kisses becoming meaningless
Im so lost without you
My pride wont let me cry before you,
But alone I shed the tears my love,
Im so lost without you,
You broke my heart into tiny particles,
With those pieces I love you the same,
I look at the doors you left open,
Hoping in my heart,
Your foot might step again,
Im so lost without you
Im tormented and torn apart,
Tortured and broken into pieces,
The hours i wanted you more,
The days i needed you the most,
The same moment you walked away,
Im so lost without you
Find me again my lost hope,
Love me again my lost love
poem by Gaylord Munemo
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The Voice Says In My Heart
Dreaming of a life of peace,
Though I am shattered to pieces.
A damaged spirit, resulting from a defective mind.
Broken and irreparable, so I think.
But my thoughts got me here in the first place.
On my knees, looking up, I see the light.
Shining down on me from above.
It connects with the light inside.
The voices in my head silence.
My mind clears, true vision appears.
'Pick up the pieces.', the soft voice whispers from within.
'Many pieces, put together, makes a piece.'
'That is what you seek isn't it? '
'Give them to me, for the pieces are heavy'.
'What I have created, only I can fix.'
'It was broken by you in the first place.'
'Because I was not your first place.'
'I was your last. I was your end.'
'But now you have reached me, '
'Let me show you what I can do.'
'For I come with an eternal warranty and a misery back guarantee.'
Piece by piece, I was put back together.
Until I was one.
Not one with my thoughts, but one with my maker.
No longer listening to what the voices in my head say.
But to what the voice says in my heart.
As it whispers to me, I can feel it's voice.
'Peace.'
poem by Ryan Lee Morris
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Broken Windows Shattered Mirrors
Broken windows shattered mirrors
The tiny slivers fall like tears
They cut me till my arms run red
They make me wish that I was dead
And though I try to carry on
I know my time here's almost gone
Broken windows shattered mirrors
Broken windows shattered mirrors
I'm surrounded by these fears
I know I shouldn't be afraid
I feel like I'm locked up in a cage
I push and pull try to get out
I scream until I just can't shout
Broken windows shattered mirrors
Broken windows shattered mirrors
I'll have bad luck seven years
I know it's just a superstition
But I also know it's pure intuition
That made me stay not fade away
So I could live another day
Broken windows shattered mirrors
poem by Anonymous Ghurl
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Shattered Pieces
shattered pieces
my hands shall pick you up
and they will bleed
to make you whole again
shattered pieces
when you become whole
will you love me?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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There Once Was A Tiny Girl
there once
was a tiny girl
who grew up
in this world
there once
was a tiny girl
who cried herself to sleep
every night
there once
was a tiny girl
who wore the same dress
every day
there once
was a tiny girl
who wouldn't go out
and play
there once
was a tiny girl
who would bleed and have bruises
from head to toe
there once
was a tiny girl
who begged
daddy, please no more
there once
was a tiny girl
who the angels
heard her prayer
they came down
and took her
to a better place
where that tiny girl
found love
instead of hate
by: crystal sonier
age: 15
poem by Natalia Anna Joelie
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The Ending Silence Of Departure
when the house breaks
like a porcelain plate
tiny pieces can hurt
the hands and feet
i know the reason of my birth
i will be the one to pick
the broken pieces
days and nights my fingers
busy on the piecing
tears are glue and
sobriety is the faithful
house help
the ruins stand back
the house takes a ball of light
on top of the
cliff
a lighthouse summoning ships
to take the safe path
collisions are avoidance
and parting becomes new meetings
a hug is the cure for all these
lonely stories, the ending is
the silence of departing.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Piece Just Under The Top Right Corner
I was 'Shattered' I'm the mirror
There's broken pieces everywhere
I'm just shards now
I hold onto these shards with my hand and grip them tightly
I want to re-make myself But I won't use the ugly shards I'll grip them tighter
Let them sink into my skin
The problem
Is the paradox of me picking up myself while I'm broken
It just doesn't work
But then You came
But then You came and asked me to let go of the pieces
For all to see
The ugliness hidden deep inside of me
I'd never have let go for anyone but You
You'd offered me this chance many times too
But for some reason this time I just let go
Instead of trying to make myself into something I just let go and let You
And now my broken shards we're the pieces just under the top
The top right corner
We're.... I'm whole, and my once-makeshift shard
Has been made by the master
Into a part of the masterpiece that is Your kingdom
I'm just a piece but You saw the whole picture since the beginning
Now I'm proud to be there for all to see
But You aren't done with Your work in me
Or in this world
So now my brokenness is a beautiful mosaic of hope
A beautiful mosaic of love
All the broken pieces
Make a picture of something like a cross
To remind us that sin has no power
The sting of death is gone
So I'm just under the top right corner
But I need to gather some more pieces to make the corner
Not that it is I but You, my Lord
It's time to go out and show the world that brokenness
Brokenness healed through God's power
That's beautiful
poem by David Knox
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At Dawnbreak
i open the windows on the rear
pale lights from the eastern side of the window pane enter
i stretch my arms and hands
rub my eyes like sands
the cock has crowed
the church bells toll, we bowed
it is the paleness of light, the color of sadness
landing slowly like a tiny wind in my emptiness.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Vacuole....
haven't you taken a closer look
at the vacuole? it is owning a space for itself
and what you do not see is that
it is ingesting emptiness upon
its own open mouth
and just like you digesting everything
to tiny pieces
until everything gets so fluid
upon its own belly
the universe begins to take shape
and move
just like our own feelings of emptiness
we must learn this art of
ingestion
taking things and converting them
into fluids
until they take the shape of our faces
our future
and fears.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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107
at dawn break
i open the windows on the rear
pale lights from the eastern side of the window pane enter
i stretch my arms and hands
rub my eyes like sands
the cock has crowed
the church bells toll, i bow
it is the paleness of light, the color of sadness
landing slowly like a tiny wind in my emptiness.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Baby Love-Angelina's Story
If time has elasticity
then stretch it across my love's heart
in the dead of night
make it stop as we try
to make our baby.
Now three years of trying.
Make it stop my aging.
Grant me the time;
reverse the ticking clock
inside my womb.
I want this baby.
I cannot be the barren woman.
Take this ticking clock
and silence it.
Translate
my husband's love into
baby bouncing
free.
Let me hear
baby's cry.
He said
'We could always adopt.'
And I said
'I guess we could
but it wouldn't be the same.'
So strong is baby love
so strong this longing
I'll not sleep again this night:
tiny hands
tiny face
in my dreams;
reaching out.
I have this baby love
yearning for my own
tiny hands and arms
reaching out to me.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Valentine's Day
Oh! I wish I were a tiny browny bird from out the south,
Settled among the alder-holts, and twittering by the stream;
I would put my tiny tail down, and put up my tiny mouth,
And sing my tiny life away in one melodious dream.
I would sing about the blossoms, and the sunshine and the sky,
And the tiny wife I mean to have in such a cosy nest;
And if some one came and shot me dead, why then I could but die,
With my tiny life and tiny song just ended at their best.
poem by Charles Kingsley
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Big and tiny creatures
Big and tiny creatures, are so unique each one,
But they're so amazing each one, out in the noon day sun;
For example, look at the spider, and the web she doth make,
So clever and wonderful, and the time she doth take.
Big and tiny creatures, I am amazed each one I see,
Look at the pigmy possum, trying to hide in a tree;
It's color goes in with the background scene,
But he will cover his steps to hide where he's been.
Big and tiny creatures, do you like the tall giraffe?
To think his neck is so tall, his length is longer than a raft;
Then there's the whale, out in the huge sea,
Moaning and groaning to his mate, amazing do you agree?
Big and tiny creatures, like the tiny crab, or the large hippo,
What about the large elephant, and the tiny ant on the go;
Each one has a job to do, yet both care for their young,
They travel far, travel wide, busy in the hot sun.
Big and tiny creatures, colors some so pretty,
Such as the butterfly, and the flamingo, agree;
Then there is the snakes, and the parrots too,
We should thank God for each one, where thanks is due.
poem by Margaret Haig
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Peace Returns Again
We live, We die.
We mourn. We cry.
And those that are left
pick up the pieces
that were that person's life,
little pieces that fit together
like a puzzle that just like the weather
is filled with changes
of highs and lows,
of happy times
and all their woes.
The last piece of the puzzle
fits right into place
and frames the picture
that was their face.
We keep that puzzle in our heart
and remember with love each little part
that was that person's life.
We then are left with an enigma,
a puzzle that relates their life.
It lives on in the mysteries of this world
but becomes solved in the afterlife.
And peace returns again.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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8th Grade Graduation
A puzzle together
a puzzle apart
each piece belongs to my heart
each piece is differant
each piece is great
But now they have to take on the long expected fate
They knew it would come
the day was here
the day they dreaded at the beginning of the year
The day they would be pulled apart
the whole would be broken
they knew it from the start
A piece here
and a piece there
how could life be so unfair
The beautiful picture the puzzle protrayed
is now forgotten
the pieces have strayed
They went away
fell beneath the wooden table
the puzzle would never again be stable
But that puzzle is forever in my heart
the memories of each piece
will never fall apart
-For my eighth grade class on graduation-
poem by Summer Song
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