Unhappy Endings....
softer as 100% cotton
scented pillow case
Chanel 5 your fave
cooler as Iceland
whispers of glaciers
changing courses.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
Why not elevate the appreciation to a higher more delicate and softer shade?
higher than the eagle
softer than the cotton
higher, higher than the cliff
softer, softer than the clouds
higher, higher, higher than the highest mountain
softer, softer, softer than the dust of the galaxies
do you feel it now? do you know where the apex is?
do you hear the sound of that vast empty space?
is that what you are looking for? now tell me if i have to go
back inward, inward, inside my heart, inside the molecular structures
of my blood corpuscle, the intricacies of my nerve endings,
the neurons, the positrons, the smallest particle possible inside us
do you feel it too? what do you see in there? is it not the same emptiness
that you have seen out there? now tell me where to go next? now, miss,
tell me what to do next? and i will always do it for you with all my love
with all my human kindness, with all my innate gladness.
tell me if i am lost, tell me if i have to give up hope, tell me.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Remember, the Arctic didn't have any ice. And the Northwest Passage was wide open. They were raising grapes in Scotland for God sakes, had a huge winery. Iceland was a farming community. As some of the glaciers retreated they found villages that were covered with ice.
Cotton Flower
Saint and cotton flower are same and alike.
In appearance they both are not beautiful
Not scented and not showy.
Saint and cotton flower are necessary
And most useful for daily life.
They both are white and pure and perfect
And serve human being forgetting their own self.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Genetic studies in Iceland have found that many of the women who were the founding stock of Iceland came from England and what is now France. Some were probably captured and carried off in Viking raids only 40 generations ago.
quote by Keith Henson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pillow
Your words
fell softly
On my pillow.
I hear them.
Like a bell
Far out to sea.
Nobody
Can console a weeping willow.
Or a caged bird
Yearning to be free.
Your tears
Fell softly
On my pillow.
I feel them.
Like summer rain
Upon my tongue.
As God
Spins cotton candy clouds
That billow.
I look for morning star
Where dreams once clung.
On my pillow
I can still smell your hair.
And your perfume
Like sweet flowers
Everywhere.
I can touch you
As my soul
Can feel a tune.
Love in the shadows
Still silhouetted
By the moon.
On my pillow
I see stardust
Glint of jade.
Sweet remnants
Of the promises we made.
When the magic flew,
Moonbeams
Were left behind.
On my pillow
Bathed in blue.
You kiss my mind.
poem by Kevin East
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Women have always been the strong ones of the world. The men are always seeking from women a little pillow to put their heads down on. They are always longing for the mother who held them as infants.
quote by Coco Chanel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There have been several Duchesses of Westminster but there is only one Chanel!
quote by Coco Chanel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Whispers
We have to speak in whispers
for fear someone might hear
our words that we want private.
It is a dreadful thing to have to do
if our secrets we want to keep
of how we desperately feel,
so we talk in whispers
that no one else can hear
in case our every word is drawn
to make comment on.
Therefore, when we talk to one another
it has to be in whispers
so no one can over hear,
our movements are scrutinized
and our conversations listened to.
Soon it will be over
and our lives can once again
begin to resume.
Until then we talk in whispers
so no one else can hear.
21 September 2008
poem by David Harris
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On Thing With You....
before you arrive in the house
you always announce your name
makes me wonder
what is the reason for this?
do you wish not to catch me
with my philandering?
do you see to it that you will
never know
what i have been doing?
you do not like to confront the
pain of knowing?
and so when you come
the mess is already cleaned
every chair and table on their proper places
blankets with stains of my infidelity
are changed
with the newly laundered and ironed ones
the pillow cases are soft and scented
and the bed as usual
are like my arms ready
to serve as your home again
for my heart has no other wish
despite my sins
but to provide you shelter
whatever may be the case.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Who but could—the saints preserve us, resist her...
Here; alone lying on this cotton pillow.
I can still recall the lure of her lily scent:
Bouquets do me gaze and camphor and shadow...
Never a dull moment does the heart repent:
Her fragrance, what; a promiscuous, allure.
Such elicit essences spring ajar the dart...
What an art this palpable kiss velour.
How it courses through my head and lonely heart...
Then swept-on bye with brocades of flower
Spent-fallen, from Piety, a honey-suckle,
Vine; twisting around, the Lover’s Lane Larkspur.
Who in the world could be gleeful, yet; still bashful?
Who but could—the saints preserve us, resist her.
Maybe; only the “Morning Star her goddess sister”.
poem by Mark Heathcote
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Who but could—the saints, resist her...
Here; alone lying on this cotton pillow.
I can still recall the lure of her lily scent:
Bouquets do me gaze and camphor and shadow...
Never a dull moment does the heart repent:
Her fragrance, what; a promiscuous, allure.
Such elicit essences spring ajar the dart...
What an art this palpable kiss velour.
How it courses through my head and lonely heart...
Then swept-on bye with brocades of flower
Spent-fallen, from Piety, a honey-suckle,
Vine; twisting around, the Lover's Lane Larkspur.
Who in the world could be gleeful, yet; still bashful?
Who but could—the saints preserve us, resist her.
Maybe; only the "Morning Star her goddess sister".
poem by Mark Heathcote
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Never Satisified
Where do we go from here
There must be something near
Changing you, changing me forever
Places changes, faces change
Life is so very strange
Changing time, changing rhyme together
Theres no where else to go
This could be our last show
Changing dreams, changing schemes never
We are never satisfied
Love is gone, along with fun
Now were reaching for the gun
Changing cast, changing fast, no more tether
We are never satisfied
song performed by by Judas Priest
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Never Satisfied
Where do we go from here
There must be something near
Changing you, changing me forever
Places changes, faces change
Life is so very strange
Changing time, changing rhyme together
Theres no where else to go
This could be our last show
Changing dreams, changing schemes never
We are never satisfied
Love is gone, along with fun
Now were reaching for the gun
Changing cast, changing fast, no more tether
We are never satisfied
song performed by by Judas Priest
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Everyone designs who devises courses of action aimed at changing existing situations into preferred ones.
quote by Herbert Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The nagging of my cryptic pillow
I couldn't sleep these days and I heard the whispering inside my pillow.
The feathers cried; ' You rest all the time but we stuck here permanently Sir, Our featherhead Boss! Don't you feel about the liberty?
We too like to fly in the serene sky and please let us come out of this thick pillow case.
We want the true freedom!
* To my poet friend Duncan.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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oDE to a BACKBITER
tell me
how do you pick up the pieces of
cotton that you spread in the air
from the pillow
that you stab with the sharpness
and length of the knife
that is your tongue?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Hard Up Case
You told me once I was your pride and joy
I guess those days are dead and gone
You must have took me for some golden boy
You didnt know what you were taking on
It was a hard up case
It was a hard up case
Just another hard up case
It was a hard up case
Just another hard up case
Now all the angles have been played in threes
There isnt much that I can say
I know you gave your little heart to me
I guess I threw the thing away
It was a hard up case
It was a hard up case
Just another hard up case
It was a hard up case
Just another hard up case
Sometimes the truth is kind of hard to find
But dont you worry I can read your mind
And you dont have to tell me to my face
You put some other joker in my place
They dealt us houses full with the queens and kings
And now theyre calling out our bluff
cause you and me girl we had everything
But it just wasnt quite enough
Now thats a hard up case
It was a hard up case
Just another hard up case
It was a hard up case
Just another hard up case
You say the truth is gonna set me free
Like you might throw a dog a bone
I know youre thinking that the jokes on me
Just take a look at what you re dragging home --
Another hard up case
It was a hard up case
Just another hard up case
It was a hard up case
Just another hard up case
song performed by by Steely Dan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Good Sleep
the linens are cool grasses
the air as breezy as the sea
the room gives the ambiance of
silence resting on soft cotton pillow
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Where The Heart Is...
her voice was soft
as the cotton inside the pillow
her words
no more than the lowest
intensity of the
whisper
she feels so right
there, there is where
her heart is.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Dissonance Of Images
The dissonance of Images
Where is Haiti again? Or for that matter Chile? Both nations were on
the news only a few days ago. Earthquakes and tsunamis, was it not?
Folks’ been knocking on my door wanting money to help people of
Madeira, which is nearer home so we know it is a tourist island. Ebb
and flow of tragedies, soon forgotten. Now we have vivid flicks from
an exploding volcano on Iceland, a small village has been evacuated in
case snow turns into water and drown them all. Iceland has ponies,
that produce manure, which is good for the roses. There are no trees
on the isle, and few dogs, thus it’s possible to walk in its capital without
stepping on dog turd. Not that this fable will want me to go live there.
So much news, the radio, TV, and now, on your mobile phone as well.
The dissonance of images lose all meaning, we hear and see no evil;
until black smoke rises from behind the mountain and a voice screams:
“Do you want total war? ” Heaven help us if the echo’s answer is: ”Yes! ”
poem by Oskar Hansen
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