Two Things
a blue bird on a black bough
a watcher by the window.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Second Watcher: The country here is such a very cheerless place... Where I lived before it was less cheerless. In the evening I sat by the window spinning. The window looked out to the sea and at times there was an island in the distance... Many times, I stopped spinning; just looked out to the sea and forgot living. I don’t know if I was happy. Now I shall not be something that maybe I never was...
First Watcher: Apart from here, I had never seen the sea. There, from that window, is the only place where the sea can be seen and can be seen so little of it! Is the sea in other lands beautiful?
Second Watcher: Only the sea from other lands is beautiful. That one which we see always makes us miss the one we shall never see...
line from The Sailor, script by Fernando Pessoa (1913), translated by Dan Costinaș
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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The Watcher
Like a watcher I must listen and see.
But never intervene.
Death of the soul has come over me.
A conscience with a little less stress.
Secrets galore, one time, one place, a person is erased.
Like venom it eats at you inside.
To know and do nothing.
So powerless.
I've become the watcher.
A star collector,
A master of all and none.
What is wrong cant be undone.
With an erie sound and light.
Guidance should be forthright.
But still I hear the whispers of many clouded minds.
Dark are the times.
I've become the watcher.
Distant but so close that i can feel the auras of those who walk the path a little too fast.
An error in judgement call.
To proud to take a chance instead of the fall.
I've become the watcher and yet still I musn't make a move.
For my turns coming.
But till then I must be patient and use the indirect power suggestion.
For any act of aggression would just lead them astray.
And that will never be okay.
So I will be on the front line with my eyes and ears as a watcher.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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The Watcher on the Tower
I
The Voice of a Man
WHAT of the Night, O Watcher?
The Voice of a Woman
Yea, what of it?
The Watcher
A star has risen; and a wind blows strong.
Voice of the Man
The Night is dark.
The Watcher
But God is there above it.
Voice of the Woman
The Night is dark; the Night is dark and long.
II
Voice of the Man
What of the Night, O Watcher?
Voice of the Woman
Night of sorrow!
The Watcher
Out of the East there comes a sound, like song.
Voice of the Man
The Night is dark.
The Watcher
Have courage! There’s To-morrow!
Voice of the Woman
The Night is dark; the Night is dark and long.
III
Voice of the Man
What of the Night, O Watcher?
Voice of the Woman
Is it other?
The Watcher
I see a gleam; a thorn of light; a thong.
Voice of the Man
The Night is dark.
The Watcher
The Morning comes, my Brother.
Voice of the Woman
The Night is dark; the Night is dark and long.
IV
Voice of the Man
What now, what now, O Watcher?
The Watcher
Red as slaughter
The Darkness dies. The Light comes swift and strong.
Voice of the Man
The Night was long.—What sayest thou, my Daughter?
Voice of the Woman
The Night was dark; the Night was dark and long.
poem by Madison Julius Cawein
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Untitled 24
outside the window
this early morning
blue clouds hover
on the green hill
like the curly hair
of a little boy
on the guava tree
a twig without leaves
a bird sings
with blue feathers
the kingfisher
below it a pool
of rippled waters
a fish is seducing
its black beak
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Black Bird Singing
a black bird flies on top of the house
and perches upon a tree
fronting it
i stand by the window
looking at the scenery of sea and sand
and alternating rustic fronds
pine trees and grass
the black bird begins to sing
asking for attention
then we see each other eye to eye
it is i who blink first.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Blue (Da Ba De)
yo listen up here's a story
about a little guy that lives in a blue world
and all day and all night and everything he sees
is just blue like him inside and outside
blue his house with a blue little window
and a blue corvette
and everything is blue for him and hisself
and everybody around
cos he ain't got nobody to listen to
i'm blue da ba dee da ba die...
i have a blue house with a blue window.
blue is the colour of all that i wear.
blue are the streets and all the trees are too.
i have a girlfriend and she is so blue.
blue are the people here that walk around
song performed by by Eiffel 65 from Europop
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Blue
yo listen up here's a story
about a little guy that lives in a blue world
and all day and all night and everything he sees
is just blue like him inside and outside
blue his house with a blue little window
and a blue corvette
and everything is blue for him and hisself
and everybody around
cos he ain't got nobody to listen to
i'm blue da ba dee da ba die...
i have a blue house with a blue window.
blue is the colour of all that i wear.
blue are the streets and all the trees are too.
i have a girlfriend and she is so blue.
blue are the people here that walk around,
blue like my corvette, it's standing outside.
blue are the words i say and what i think.
blue are the feelings that live inside me.
i'm blue da ba dee da ba die...
song performed by by Eiffel 65
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Matter Of Decision
the black bird of loneliness
hovers over the window of the house
and stops to look at
our roof
we shoo it away
there is no place here
where it can build its own nest
we still wait for the bird of bounty
the one that brings us
the eggs of grace
the feathers of happiness
it is the only bird that we welcome here
as a matter of our own decision
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Blue[Da Ba Dee]
Yo listen up
Heres the story about a little guy that lives in a blue world
And all day and all night and everything he sees is just blue like him
Indside and outside
Blue his house with the blue little window and a blue corvette
And everything is blue for him and his-self
And everybody around cuz he aint got nobody to listen.
Im blue da ba dee da ba di da ba dee da ba di da d ba dee da ba di da ba dee
Da ba di da ba dee da ba di da (repeat once)
I have a blue house with a blue window
Blue is the color I bought that I wear
Blue are the trees and now the trees are too
I have a girlfriend and she is so blue
Blue are the people here that walk around
Blue like my corvette its standing outside
Blue are the words are say and what I think
Blue are the feelings that live inside me.
Im blue da ba dee da ba di da ba dee da ba di da d ba dee da ba di da ba dee
Da ba di da ba dee da ba di da (repeat twice)
Indside and outside
Blue his house with the blue little window and a blue corvette
And everything is blue for him and his-self
And everybody around cuz he aint got nobody to listen.
Im blue da ba dee da ba di da ba dee da ba di da ba dee da ba di da ba dee da
Ba di da ba dee da ba di da (repeat til end)
song performed by by Eiffel 65
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Picture Of A Cat
a gray cat on a brown
window sill
blue bird on a
green twig against
a white sky
black man on
a red chair
white butterfly
against a white
eye
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Fate Of The Black Bird
the black bird flies alone against the blue sky
it is lonely and that is the truth that lies in every black feather of its strong wings
if only it can change its course
and find a place where there are other black birds like it
perhaps it will turn back and learn to sing the song of the black flock
it is not a way of life that its father had handed to it upon its beak and claws
it is not even a choice and never did it ever imagine that it shall be alone against the blue skies
against the black nights and against the towering peaks of mountains
there is no other way of rationalizing about it except fate,
it is the destiny that chose its path and it is simply following the dictates of the stars.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Linnet In A Gilded Cage
A linnet in a gilded cage, -
A linnet on a bough, -
In frosty winter one might doubt
Which bird is luckier now.
But let the trees burst out in leaf,
And nests be on the bough,
Which linnet is the luckier bird,
Oh who could doubt it now?
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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Chinese Paper Knife
For the first time ever, and only now
(Long waiting where I should see)
The tiny carved bird, the bony bough
Start sharp into life for me.
Why not until now, why suddenly now
This recognition? Replies
The bird must know who from that bough
Holds me with staring eyes:
The owl once more, but this time found
In foliage strange to me.
Fantastic branches warp around
From the scaly uptwisting tree.
A trifle, ah yes: but the carver achieved
A forest dream where flies
In and out the boughs so various-leaved
This bird with the pinhead eyes.
Then praised be this today whose light
Revealed this fabulous tree
And original owl, which many a night
Will lead into mystery.
poem by Edmund Blunden
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Black Crow
Theres a crow flying
Black and ragged
Tree to tree
Hes black as the highway thats leading me
Now hes diving down
To pick up on something shiny
I feel like that black crow
Flying
In a blue sky
I took a ferry to the highway
Then I drove to a pontoon plane
I took a plane to a taxi
And a taxi to a train
Ive been traveling so long
Howm I ever going to know my home
When I see it again
Im like a black crow flying
In a blue, blue sky
In search of love and music
My whole life has been
Illumination
Corruption
And diving, diving, diving, diving.
Diving down to pick up on every shiny thing
Just like that black crow flying
In a blue sky
I looked at the morning
After being up all night
I looked at my haggard face in the bathroom light
I looked out the window
And I saw that ragged soul take flight
I saw a back crow flying
In a blue sky
Oh Im like a black crow flying
In a blue sky
song performed by by Joni Mitchell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Question And An Answer
what is the meaning of the black bird?
it is the friend of the night
not darkness
neither evil nor curse for it is a singing blackbird
the jolly one that comes
in the month of June
when the rest of the place is preoccupied with
grief,
it is the self that has combined all the colors
red for madness, white for purity, green for envy,
yellow for ripeness, brushing and mixing all these
in unity
the black bird is what i am when you
sit by the window looking for answers to the sea
the moon at night silently
passing by
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Divine Bird
i would skp the best musical concert
to listen one more time to this morning bird
it makes me regret for not having been
a bird watcher and getting to know the name
of every bird and how every bird makes sure
they shine their best in voice rather than feathers
for feathers are just for a show of form but the
voice how well they have cultivated themselves
with the bountiful freedoms strewn below their wings
it was only two mornings ago, i first heard him
sing in among the many trees lining the boulevard
outside my condominium, the Crescent Court
the enchanting haunting notes of his song shocked
me into wondering whether it was really a bird that
sang those pristine notes, notes that seemed to have
streamed out of the sacred sanctum of God, so many
diverse notes, so well handled, they sounded
like a song written by the Divine for one special bird
one most holy entree to the dawn of a new day
i prayed to the Divine to allow me hear that bird
again, a bird that has sung his way into my my poem,
a bird probably from another realm where birds could
understand the workings of the heavens better than men
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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The Black Bird That Keeps On Flying
the black bird
keeps on flying
over my head
its wing tips
touch my hair
the black bird
weeps
and my mind
cannot ignore
it
it is seeing you
again
and it does not
know
what to do
with its beak
it wants to kiss you
but your eyes
are angry
it wants to land over
your hair
but they are hard
as wires
the black bird
has no nest for
its eggs
you never mind it
your mind
thinks always of
that white bird
in the sky
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Blue Bird...
THERE is a blue bird
nesting inside my belly
there are butterflies in
there too,
THERE is nothing that
comes out from my belly
there is nothing that
flutters in there
nothing flies away
there is nothing
that comes out from
my mouth
THERE is only a blue bird
in my belly
the butterflies do not
last
only the blue bird
yes
this blue bird
this silence
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Unforgiving Love
one day a blue bird fell in love with a white rose..the rose was envious of everybod falling in love and was afraid that she will get hurt..the blue bird told her that he had loved her from afar but was too scared to tell the white rose how much he actaully did...the white rose told the bird when my petals turn from white to red i will fall in love with you back....the blue bird came by and by everyday and told the white rose how much he loved her...until one day the blue bird cut his wings and soaked the white rose with his blood...the white rose's petals turned from white to a luscious red and she realized how much the blue bird loved her..but it was too late the blue bird fell in front of the rose and the rose was red forever..that's why roses are giving to the ones we loved
poem by Ariff Khan
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Little Blue Bird And The Old Man Under The Tree
and the old man with a sigh murmurs upon himself
'little bird, little bird,
how sweet is your song
how i wish i can listen
some more time'
and the little blue bird high on the tree stops to sing
and looks at the old man with pity
tweeting
'my dear old man
would you like to be a little blue bird some other time? '
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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