Two Travels
i've gone to more places
hazy ones like shadows still not fully boldly outlined
by those dark lines pitted against the outbursts of lights
from these half-opened windows
while simply sitting down
flat on the floor
looking for nothing
the trips on those long hours of jetting in the air
and trekking on those cobbled streets of kota bahru
and the scalding heat of the sun
on Poring
still imagining the winds on the canopy walks of kinabalu park
on top of trees
and just as when my feet lands on
those untrodden trails
i feel short of those unsatisfied longings
still hungry for breath
still thirsty for something beyond water
now that i am home
the travel is deeper inside
beyond what my heart
can beat
perhaps what i have been searching is just here
beneath my feet.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
In A Time Of Dearth
Before me,
On either side of me,
I see sand.
If I turn the corner of my house,
I see sand,
Long, brown
Lines and levels of flat
Sand.
If I could only see a caravan
Heave over the edge of it:
The camels wobbling and swaying,
Stepping like ostriches,
With rocking palanquins
Whose curtains conceal
Languors and faintnesses,
Muslins tossed aside,
And a disorder of cushions.
The swinging curtains would pique and solace me.
But I only see sand,
Long, brown sand -
Sand.
If I could only see a herd of Arab horses
Galloping,
Their manes and tails pulled straight
By the speed of their going;
Their bodies sleek and round
Like bellying sails.
They would beat the sand with their fore feet,
And scatter it with their hind feet,
So that it whirled in a cloud of orange,
And the sun through it
Was clip-edged, without rays, and dun.
But I only see sand,
Long, brown, hot sand -
Sand.
If I could only see a mirage,
Blue-white at the horizon,
With palm-trees about it;
Tall, windless palm-trees, grouped about a-glitter.
If I could strain toward it,
And think of the water creeping round my ankles,
Tickling under my knees,
Leeching up my sides,
Spreading over my back.
But I only feel the grinding beneath my feet.
And I only see sand,
Long, dry sand,
Scorching sand -
Sand.
If a sand-storm would only come
And spit against my windows,
Snapping upon them, and ringing their vibrations;
Swirling over the roof;
Seeping under the door-jamb;
Suffocating me and making me struggle for air.
But I only see sand -
Sand lying dead in the sun.
Lines and lines of sand -
Sand.
I will paste newspapers over the windows to shut out the sand;
I will fit them into one another, and fasten the corners.
Then I will strike matches
And read of politics and murders and festivals
Three years old.
But I shall not see the sand any more,
And I can read
While my matches last.
poem by Amy Lowell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Feel The Heat
Refrain:
You got it ever - heart - forever
You got it ever - heart - forever
You got it ever - heart - forever
You got it ever - heart - forever
Feel the heat
I'm burning deep inside and
Feel the beat
Of my heart
Feel the heat
I'm burning deep inside and
Feel the beat
Of my heart
D.J.BOBO:
People in the place lets talk about
So get on the floor and turn it out
Everything that change it goes round'n'round
You loose control when you hear my sound
Everything that change it goes up'n'down
To the rhythm of the night and to the ground
Dance in the house and you wont let go
Like a symphony
In stereo-ere-o
Refrain:
You got it ever - heart - forever
You got it ever - heart - forever
You got it ever - heart - forever
You got it ever - heart - forever
Feel the heat
I'm burning deep inside and
Feel the beat
Of my heart
Feel the heat
I'm burning deep inside and
Feel the beat
Of my heart
D.J.BOBO:
Its the groove that makes you wonder
I mean the beat and the bass like thunder
I make you sweat
I make you wet
This is my mission that i got to get
That's great
Like boom boom boom
Bring the sound and the noise to the room
Get on the floor now don't be lazy
Get on the floor now lets go crazy
Refrain:
You got it ever - heart - forever
You got it ever - heart - forever
You got it ever - heart - forever
You got it ever - heart - forever
Feel the heat
I'm burning deep inside and
Feel the beat
Of my heart
Feel the heat
I'm burning deep inside and
Feel the beat
Of my heart
You got it ever - heart - forever
You got
song performed by by DJ Bobo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Inside My Study Room
five o'clock, the usual time
but i already woke up at 3: 45
too early really
but i could not go back to
sleep
the words arrive
riding on the boat
such wind
hovering
disembarking in my
brain
i am surrounded by
glass walls
and light brown
drapes
books scattering
like garbage
on the floors and
tables
i smell the odor of
dust and
water inside a vase
unchanged
the red rose
had long wilted
no one comes around
to fix things
and keep all of these
in their proper places
the windows are still
closed and it
is still dark outside
though the crows
have already
sounded their
sad calls
the cocks keep sounding
it is already morning
and the windows
must not be opened
i write some lines
as usual and then
i'll wear my socks
and put on my
rubber shoes
and then i will take
my walk to the
woods
it will be cold
and i can see my breath
like smoke from a pipe
but i need this
my body craves
my feet want to move
the walls are too much
and the curtains feel
like they have to be washed
i open the door
and then i meet a new
world again
i know at first it will
still be cold
that is usual
i know after this
the sun comes again
as usual
and things will warm themselves
again
on promises
like what hope is all about.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Not a Waste of Money
having to pay
350 ringgits to feel the water
of Poring Hot Spring in Ranau
and to spend
6 hours or more
to be at the foot
of Mt. Kinabalu
asia's highest mountain
on an amazing feeling
that no money can
ever pay
that feeling that i am but
a mist
that Wahib describes
upon thinking
of Allah...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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After A Long Travel
after a long travel
on a trip well planned
when most of the hours
are spent inside the car
where you dream
about what lies there
on the place of your destination
some flowers
and treks on mountain trails
and bridges
and rivers where you look down below
cloud-filled skies
and big mountains with enormous
shadows and cold places
at their peaks
you find rest somewhere
on a rock under a big pine tree
high on this plateau
where you can see
the green valley below
you think of home
your bed and your room
and the poetry books
and some love poems
of friends that you
miss reading
you realize you are getting old
and your taste for the world has gone cold
inside another long journey is waiting
and you think it is more exciting
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Anybody Listening?
You and I long to live like wind upon the water
If we close our eyes well maybe realize
Theres more to life than what we have known
And I cant believe Ive spent so long
Living lies I knew were wrong inside
Ive just begun to see the light
Long ago there was a dream, had to make a choice or two
Leaving all I loved behind for what nobody knew
Stepped out on the stage
A life under lights and judging eyes
Now the applause has died and I can dream again...
Is there anybody listening?
Is there anyone that sees whats going on?
Read between the lines, criticize the words theyre selling
Think for yourself and feel the walls
Become sand beneath your feet
Fell the breeze?
Times so near you ucan almost taste the freedom
Theres a warm wind from the south
Hoist the sail and well be gone
By morning, this will all seem like a dream
And if I dont return to sing the song, maybe just as well
Ive seen the news and theres not much I can do...alone
Is there anybody listening? g
Is there anyone who smiles without0 a mask?
Whats behind the words-images
They know will please us?
Ill take whats real
Bring up the lights
Is therew anybody listeing?
Is there anyone that sees whats going one?
Read between the lines
Criticize the words theyre selling
Think for yourself and feel the walls
Become sand beneath your feet.
song performed by by Queensryche
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Song of the Artesian Water
Now the stock have started dying, for the Lord has sent a drought;
But we're sick of prayers and Providence -- we're going to do without;
With the derricks up above us and the solid earth below,
We are waiting at the lever for the word to let her go.
Sinking down, deeper down,
Oh, we'll sink it deeper down:
As the drill is plugging downward at a thousand feet of level,
If the Lord won't send us water, oh, we'll get it from the devil;
Yes, we'll get it from the devil deeper down.
Now, our engine's built in Glasgow by a very canny Scot,
And he marked it twenty horse-power, but he don't know what is what:
When Canadian Bill is firing with the sun-dried gidgee logs,
She can equal thirty horses and a score or so of dogs.
Sinking down, deeper down,
Oh, we're going deeper down:
If we fail to get the water, then it's ruin to the squatter,
For the drought is on the station and the weather's growing hotter,
But we're bound to get the water deeper down.
But the shaft has started caving and the sinking's very slow,
And the yellow rods are bending in the water down below,
And the tubes are always jamming, and they can't be made to shift
Till we nearly burst the engine with a forty horse-power lift.
Sinking down, deeper down,
Oh, we're going deeper down:
Though the shaft is always caving, and the tubes are always jamming,
Yet we'll fight our way to water while the stubborn drill is ramming --
While the stubborn drill is ramming deeper down.
But there's no artesian water, though we've passed three thousand feet,
And the contract price is growing, and the boss is nearly beat.
But it must be down beneath us, and it's down we've got to go,
Though she's bumping on the solid rock four thousand feet below.
Sinking down, deeper down,
Oh, we're going deeper down:
And it's time they heard us knocking on the roof of Satan's dwellin';
But we'll get artesian water if we cave the roof of hell in --
Oh! we'll get artesian water deeper down.
But it's hark! the whistle's blowing with a wild, exultant blast,
And the boys are madly cheering, for they've struck the flow at last;
And it's rushing up the tubing from four thousand feet below,
Till it spouts above the casing in a million-gallon flow.
And it's down, deeper down --
Oh, it comes from deeper down;
It is flowing, ever flowing, in a free, unstinted measure
From the silent hidden places where the old earth hides her treasure --
Where the old earth hides her treasures deeper down.
And it's clear away the timber, and it's let the water run:
How it glimmers in the shadow, how it flashes in the sun!
By the silent bells of timber, by the miles of blazing plain
It is bringing hope and comfort to the thirsty land again.
Flowing down, further down;
It is flowing deeper down
To the tortured thirsty cattle, bringing gladness in its going;
Through the droughty days of summer it is flowing, ever flowing --
It is flowing, ever flowing, further down.
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hello My Old Friend
Early morning day is dawning
Cooling towers and factory gates
Dirty streets and laughing people
Skinny dogs and beer crates
Hello my old friend
Hello my old friend
Sad canals green black water
Somewhere bicycles and beds
Wet and windy afternoons
And pigeons coo in garden sheds
Hello my old friend
Hello my old friend
High-rise tower blocks with panoramic
Views of trains and coal
Tiehead railway tracks tread faithfully
The gas works to behold
Hello my old friend
Hello my old friend
Just to see the sunset
Pretty rainbows over your majestic towers
To feel your earth beneath my feet
Here I could stand for hours and hours
(young girls sing fara jacka in the background)
Big machines that once were champions
Turn to dust under the sky
Broken windows choking chimneys
Factory walls for miles and miles
By bye my old friend
By bye my old friend
Just to see the sunset
Pretty rainbows over your majestic towers
To feel your earth beneath my feet
Here I could stand for hours and hours
song performed by by Electric Light Orchestra
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Spring Pantoum
Sunlight bleeds through forest canopy
Slipping between my fingers
The daisies glare at me with sympathy
When crushed their scent still lingers
Slipping between my fingers
White petals soft caress
When crushed their scent still lingers
Care free, I could care less
White petals soft caress
Green blades tickle my feet
Care free, I could care less
It's nearing summer's heat
Green blades tickle my feet
Content, yet all alone
It's nearing summer's heat
Reaching for a home
Content, yet all alone
Desperately searching for what I won't find
Reaching for a home
Each breath awkwardly timed
Desperately searching for what I won't find
Sunlight bleeds through forest canopy
Each breath awkwardly timed
The daisies glare at me with sympathy
poem by Maylee Bossy
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The Vision quest
Wandering pine,
with rolled rug slung across her back
walked bare foot to feel the rich earth
beneath her feet.
The trees, high pines either side,
shielded the low sun casting shadows
bringing the ancestors.
Breaking through the pines
into crystal blue she laid her rug.
Calling on the four winds
North to prowling Bear
West to snarling Panther
East to breathing Moose
South to follow the doe eyed fawn
she began her vision quest
seated in a circle on the ground.
Cross legged she waited
stilled her mind
drew her quiet breath
and breathed the mountain air
slowly for the longest time.
Then it came.......
The rising...........
The oneness........
The wholeness.....
and The knowing
spreading through her
like the four winds.
There she stayed......
until the morning of the fourth day
when she rose quietly, rolled her rug
and descended through the pines;
with the rich earth beneath her feet
and the sound of running water at her side.
poem by Diana Rosser
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Calgary of the plains
Not of the seething cities with their swarming human hives,
Their fetid airs, their reeking streets, their dwarfed and poisoned lives,
Not of the buried yesterdays, but of the days to be,
The glory and the gateway of the yellow West is she.
The Northern Lights dance down her plains with soft and silvery feet,
The sunrise gilds her prairies when the dawn and daylight meet;
Along her level lands the fitful southern breezes sweep,
And beyond her western windows the sublime old mountains sleep.
The Redman haunts her portals, and the Paleface treads her streets,
The Indian's stealthy footstep with the course of commerce meets,
And hunters whisper vaguely of the half forgotten tales
Of phantom herds of bison lurking on her midnight trails.
Not hers the lore of olden lands, their laurels and their bays;
But what are these, compared to one of all her perfect days?
For naught can buy the jewel that upon her forehead lies--
The cloudless sapphire Heaven of her territorial skies.
poem by Emily Pauline Johnson
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Last Descending Overtones
With each descending step I hear the beat
of sacrificial chants of those who know.
The stone is cold and grey beneath my feet.
The pungent smell is damp and bittersweet.
Within these halls the music seems to flow,
with each descending step I hear the beat.
The altar room is secret and discrete,
with eerie chants that truly seem to grow.
The stone is cold and grey beneath my feet.
Author notes -
Villanelle:
A Villanelle is a nineteen-line poem consisting of a very specific rhyming scheme:
aba aba aba aba aba abaa.
The first and the third lines in the first stanza are repeated in alternating order throughout the poem, and appear together in the last couplet (last two lines) .
Form Resource: shadowpoetry.com
My wrists are bound, a feeling of defeat,
a severed heart to feed the gods libido.
With each descending step I hear the beat.
My time has come this act will not repeat,
I hear the chants and see the lamps aglow.
The stone is cold and grey beneath my feet.
My heart becomes the sacrificial meat
as now my life approaches its crescendo.
With each descending step I hear the beat,
the stone is cold and grey beneath my feet.
poem by Amera Andersen
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Hat And Feet
Hat And Feet
Fountains Of Wayne
I'm just a hat and feet
That's all that's left of me
A spot on the sidewalk
A mark on the street
I'm just a hat and feet
I'm just a hat and feet
You dropped a bomb on me
I didn't even see
Like a falling piano
From out of the window
Now I'm just a hat and feet
I'm just a hat and feet
I'm just a sitting duck
That ran out of luck
I'm the unhappy guy
That didn't look up high
I started running when I saw it coming
It got faster and louder til I took a powder
Now
I'm just a hat and feet
That's what 's become of me
Flat on the sidewalk
Stuck in the street
I'm just a hat and feet
I'm just a hat and feet
song performed by by Fountains Of Wayne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Who Can See And Feel / The Trees As They Are
WHO CAN SEE AND FEEL/ THE TREES AS THEY ARE
Who can see and feel
The trees as they are
The wind as it rains
The light as it trails
The clouds of dust
Goodbye?
Who can know the way
Of a stream
That feels deeper
Into the heart
Of all water sounds?
And beyond all being
Who can find the name of G-d
When no one knows
Who or why or where of how
All is Great and Good?
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hat & Feet
Im just a hat and feet
Thats all thats left of me
A spot on the sidewalk
A mark on the street
Im just a hat and feet
Im just a hat and feet
You dropped a bomb on me
I didnt even see
Like a falling piano
From out of a window
Now Im just a hat and feet
Im just a hat and feet
Im just a sitting duck
That ran out of luck
Im the unhappy guy
That didnt look up high
I started running when I saw it coming
It got faster and louder til I took a powder
Now
Im just a hat and feet
Thats what become of me
Flat on the sidewalk
Stuck to the street
Im just a hat and feet
Im just a hat and feet
song performed by by Fountains Of Wayne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Okaerinasai
this is the stranger
dusty face and muddy
feet
caulked
he still holds the key
to the old room
his room
opens it
he was away for months
his dog is dead
inside the bathroom
the whole house
stinks
all lines are cut off
it is dark
he arrives at night
dogs are howling
the trees have no leaves
the winds are cold
the path is
grassy and wild
the squirrels left
when he arrives
nuts
the rats stand at
the door watching
his every move
there is a mirror
at the veranda
at the side of the
door
it is hazy
it could be me
in this
horrible
thought
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Reveries of an Imaginary Landscape No.12 - Morning with Water
White mist
hiding the brownish patches of trees
looking upward the canopy scrumptious, vivacious
The air
cold at first
fresh, invigorating
Cool red earth
pitted and smooth, damp and vibrant
silky red flowers and burgeoning patches of green and blue
The sun
blasting, rippling through the canopy
bright dancing shadows on the red, red earth
Running water
clear, warm, from a steamy spring
shiny droplets dripping
poem by Timothy Marshal Nichols
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Camel
I am like a camel wandering in a harsh and unforgiving desert. The heat manipulates my eyesight. The dunes warp and twirl subtly in front of me. I wonder to myself if whether or not the world has dried up, for I haven't seen water in miles and miles. My tongue lies in my mouth, shriveling like a prune, pitted and lightly bathed in crisped saliva. My spit is thick, coating my gums and teeth as if it were a translucent tar. I am thirsty, walking aimlessly—searching for some sort of lost oasis which may or may not exist. There must be a fresh pool standing alone somewhere; I dream of it in my parched thoughts. My skin burns—golden brown and tanning, cracking similar to the dusty, torrid dirt under my feet. The sun beats down hard on the barren land. I long for softer soil, to feel my toes dig into the porous ground. I wish for an all-encompassing shade to swallow the desiccating heat and the dehydrated swat droplets lining my brow. Where are you my palm tree? Can't you save me from my muscles turning to sand that slips from the sides of my bones? I wander in the harsh and unforgiving desert with only the water I've stored in my body. One day, it will be gone and I may still be looking for you, my lost and beautiful oasis.
poem by Tim Stensloff
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An Englishman In The Usa
Writers: leo sayer & les davidson
Rambling round your city streets
I feel no earth beneath my feet
And I feel my life
Is crumbling into, into the sea
But I cant swim
Three thousand miles
So all I have is lonely nights
Im an englishman
Lost in the usa
And its a long way back home
Such a long way back home
And Im wondering
Where am I gonna go
Lines dead -- operators gone
And now the fear is coming on
And I hear my love
Wondering where have I gone
So Im gambling bucks for pounds
Yeah, but lady luck
Just wont come around
For an englishman
Who is stuck in the usa
And its a long way back home
Such a long way back home
And Im wondering
Will I ever get away
So here I am and there are you
Where wishful thoughts
Dont serve no use
And all the worrying in the world
Wont pull me through
So I think of love that
Might have been
And an airline ticket
Thats like a dream
For an englishman
Who is lost in the usa
Such a long way back home
Such a long way back home
And Im wondering
Will I ever get to go
And Im waiting for you
To take me home
song performed by by Leo Sayer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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His Loneliness
he undresses himself and
slides inside a tub of water
he buries his head to gain
the coolness of the water
he places his hands on the side
and looks beyond the glass windows
there the trees are green and the
clouds are blue and the sun is brighter
he closes his eyes and lies still
around his body are the foams and scents
he stops awhile for some thoughts
she is still there inside his mind
how can he ever forget her?
how long shall she stay inside his heart?
how can he be so powerless in this?
how can she be so beautiful still despite the years?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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