En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Upon Writing This Poem

you see, everyone is asleep
and the rain pours heavily on the tin roof of this old house
the white dog lays with its four legs facing the ceiling
feeling so contented
i closed the glass windows
and let the brown curtains fall
on the floor
as i begin to write the words i am not thinking of anybody else
is there someone still who is special to remember
during a heavy rain on a night like this when i am already alone by
myself?
i still have a suspended answer to all these questions
or perhaps they have no answers still
for the past 30 years
now with some white hairs and extended forehead
i am at home with myself
and no rain how heavy and how long
can instill in me the fear
of its monotonous sound
my feet have roots and my hands have tendrils
my head is a big sunflower
and the void out there is such a beautiful greenfield
on a limitless horizon
this world is an open window
this earth is a big boat
and i am now the sailor expectant of islands
and welcoming ports
bustling cities
diamond lights
starry skies.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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When The Rain Stopped Falling

there is this heavy rain
falling on top of your roof and it is so disturbing
that you wake up
and lock your windows
to shut yourself away from the sounds
of falling

but you cannot help worrying even when you cannot
literally hear the sound of the falling rain

you still imagine how they fall inside your mind
as though you can hear every syllable that every neddle of rain
is pricking in your brain
your ears
and your eyes still have the image of these
series of fallings

that even if the rain finally stopped
and you open your window to check
in the middle of this time
when morning cracks fromt the shutters of your windows

you still think like crazy
you hear the sound of the wind and it is like the sound of the falling
rain
and even if the wind has left like a leaf flown to the eastern side
of your house
even if there is no shadow of the leaf anymore
you hear your heart falling from your chest

now you must accept
leaving.
now you must accept the pain.
do not deny it.

it is you that is falling out
from the grace of her love.
it is you.

cry it out!
shout it!
it is you.!
it is you!
it is not the rain, it is not the wind, it is not the leaf that was blown away
towards the eastern part of the house.it is not the design of the house.
it is not the purple curtains. it is not the lonely courtyard
it is not the red bowl. it is not the tower.
it is not the blank sheets of paper.
it is not the bell.
it is not the winding stairs.
it is not the dirty garage.
it is not the scaffold.
it is not the white paint.
it is not the doorbell.
it is not the turbulence of the plane.
it is not the slap of the hand.
it is not the blue fan.
it is not the cellophance floating in the air and whirling in that corner
a dead-end.

it is you! and that is the truth!
be calm now. wipe the tears.
try sleep and dream.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Heavy Rain...

as i watch the heavy rain
by my window
i write this poem
every word is like a rain
every sound
every coldness here is rain
every loneliness is rain
and unless you are here
beside me
you can never feel this rain
as you read each word
you still wonder
what is rain, how does it fall
what is its sound
the word is never rain
as the poem is
never real

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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For A Friend Who Is Also Struggling Out There

it is still 3 o'clock in the afternoon. iT is raining heavily
outside as we still keep busy with our own business
inside this courtroom.

two lawyers arguing on a point. I am listening.
the accused sits there, his life is at stake.
the mother is tense. two mothers.
THE mother of the complainant
who cries that her daughter is a victim
of rape.The mother of the accused who rebuts
that his son is just framed-up by the real
culprits who are still-at-large.

the glass windows of the court
muted the sound of the heavy rain.
but the way the trees are swaying to and fro
like a pendulum of a grandfather's clock
very well tells that there is a bad weather
outside this courtroom.

a river of faces faces me. i look at the eyes
of the room, the windows cased in glass
as the rain is maimed wanting to get in
as though trying to say that it has also
something to say about the matters
discussed inside this closed room.

the world is always asking, what is the truth?
it reminds us, there is only one truth and the
rest are lies. I keep on trying to learn from it.

the argument has always been:
everyone is a victim, and no one wins this game

of a legal play. sometimes the guilty is set free
and the innocent is put to prison.

there will be cries of the wind. In a closed court
like this, one cannot really hear the sound of its cries.
I am trying to figure out. Each word. The words of the
wind and the muted sounds of the rain.

THE hammer shall fall and it shall fall heavily.
Can this poem help me? Are emotions aids?

Many mouths shall shape the words. Each lip makes
a reading of itself. There will be whispers and murmurs.
There will be calls and cries and hounding sounds.

I sleep at night soundly. My conscience shall be my pillow.
There will be dreams handed to me by the gods.

As i write this, think also of my own journey, my own sorrows.
In the battles outside and inside us, a closed room vis-a-vis
the outside cries of the wind and the rain, i want to simply tell you, , ,

keep moving on. We move on too, with our own busy lives.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Rain

I.

The rain! the rain! the rain!
It gushed from the skies and streamed
Like awful tears; and the sick man thought
How pitiful it seemed!
And he turned his face away,
And stared at the wall again,
His hopes nigh dead and his heart worn out.
O the rain! the rain! the rain!

II.

The rain! the rain! the rain!
And the broad stream brimmed the shores;
And ever the river crept over the reeds
And the roots of the sycamores:
A corpse swirled by in a drift
Where the boat had snapt its chain--
And a hoarse-voiced mother shrieked and raved.
O the rain! the rain! the rain!

III.

The rain! the rain! the rain!--
Pouring, with never a pause,
Over the fields and the green byways--
How beautiful it was!
And the new-made man and wife
Stood at the window-pane
Like two glad children kept from school.--
O the rain! the rain! the rain!

poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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When The Rain Comes

this i can tell to my nephew
that when the rain comes
all we do is listen to the rhythm
of its own sound
there is music to every dripping
rain at the gutters of
our soul
there is this feeling of having
to be with the cry of the
world
to be wet with its tears
to be divine
and pure

when the rain comes
there is the urge to dance under the sky
to be one with the earth
and rain as the link between the earth
and the sky
our limbs as paths
our feet as thirsty roots
our hands stretching
for more
of what is yet to come

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Retrace

in Dumaguete
at 4 o'clock in the morning
you went out of the ship to take a walk along
the boulevard: an old one
with a story to tell
the one that you like to hear
again and again

this time
the heavy rains intervened
forgivable as it is the first heavy rain in the city
for the past five months

people stand along the side
of the covered pathway
watching
the rain

you sit on one of those benches
where breakfast is served
cheap

fish and rice and coffee
the roof leaks
and drops of rain begins to hit
your shoulder

a man beside you
with some tattoo on his arms
looks at you like you are the man whom
he had been searching
all the years of his life

you stare back
sort of saying
you are not afraid
for this encounter

he looks away knowing that you also know
what betrayal is
what a war is
what killing fields are

he sidesteps your gaze
unzips his fly
and urinates pointing to the heavy rain

this is pure disrespect to the rain
you stop eating
brace the rain beyond the roof
bathes there
and walks away from there

this world is not absurd
it is logical
it knows when to stop and to begin again
when to stare back
when to back off and when to retrace its steps
along the boulevard

now the stories are becoming clear
and then the rain stops
you remember that was the song
precisely the lyrics are intact

but what for? you ask again
over and over again

you are so foolish.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Last Night I Was Talking To Myself

last night i was talking to myself
asking and making answers
like the way i make a knot and
then untie them from a cemented
post at the port
so that the wooden boat
may finally be let loose
and be free to sail
to its chosen destination

the sea was so wide
like all seas that you have seen
but the night was so dark
like no other

last night i was formulating solutions
to a very common problem
like how to cure a cold
with just a glass of water
like how to appease the coldness
of a room with nothing but
a piece of a woolen blanket
and curling feet and
hiding hands in my pocket
so i can have the exact warmth
so i may finally have my much
needed sleep and
dream about the peace
between the clouds
and the stars

last night i could not sleep
and you are beside me
last night i opened the window
of our room while you
were there snoring
last night i was silently
talking about the absence of
stars the loss of the moon

and then the rain fell
heavily on the roof of this house
and then i closed the windows
and then i listened to every sound
and then i noticed a faint light coming
from a leak of these walls

i know
another morning has finally
come
it is broken they say.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Lovely, Lovely, Lovely Memories Too

Lovely 6

On Sundays papa buys some kilos of big crabs
He cooks them and puts shredded coconuts inside them

Cooked in pure white coconut oil

All the family prays for this sumptuous dinner
No one is late & everyone is present.

Lovely 7

The white ducks all gather in the backyard during the black night
After eating brown snails in the green ricefield the whole day

Early morning you gather all their white eggs
Scattered everywhere like white stones

Your big brown basket is full as they look at you without any quack.

Lovely 8

It is midnight and everyone is asleep
You hear the slow rain dripping by the window pane

On a nipa roof
As you write your 8th love poem

Her face is still beautiful even when completely asleep

Lovely 9

25 years you have not heard of her
Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day

In your email a valentine’s greeting pops up
It is from her and you save it

Tomorrow morning you will open it again
Looking for the right words to read.

Lovely 10

Your music teacher now at 76 drops by
Your house this morning

You are invited for tea in his flower garden
Then he plays some pieces of Mozart

A little white dog wags its tail at you
As your heart jumps with joy.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Heavy Rain

Heavy rain, lightning too
Heavy rain, when Im with you
Seems like a thousand years
Since we both felt free
Weve seen a million faces
All staring at you and me
But just like humphrey bogart said
Before he passed out on his bed
Heres looking at you kid
And the rocky road ahead
Heavy rain, lightning too
Heavy rain when Im with you
You know the thunder comes like a lions roar
But it leaves me now
When you walk out the door
Listen to that northern wind
Its singing a sad old song
A melody so sick and tired
Been blowing much too long
Aint it time to feel the weather change
You know its overdue
Love is gone, we cant go on
Pretending old is new

Rain down

And the daylight comes
As a sweet surprise
Heavy rain
Filling up my eyes
Heavy rain

song performed by by Hall & Oates
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Path Of Brown Stain...

the heavy rain from the sky
pours upon the heads of the mountains

the rain takes upon its feet the rivers on a journey to the mouth of the sea

it escapes and creates a brown island that spreads on the belly of the sea

it is not beautiful to see

how stains are made

the sea is sinful and it will always be

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Rain Keeps Fallin

I remember the night so well.
The rain was fallin but I just couldnt tell,
If it was you that was callin to my love-sick brain.
But the rain kept fallin on my window pane.
Out of the night the thunder rang in my ear.
I cant fight the feelin, lord, that brings forth my fears.
I wish it was over, lord, please stop the rain.
The rain thats fallin on my window pane.
The rain thats fallin on my window pane.
Every night the rains on time, I can feel it in this heart of mine.
But I dont know what to do.
Well, I guess I could go back home, cause you know back home is where I belong.
But it just aint home without you.
And I dont know what to do, baby.
Well, I guess Im a looser but it just dont seem fair.
I lost all my life so tell me, why should I care?
The night that you left me is the night that it came.
And the rains still fallin on my window pane.
The rain keeps fallin on my window pane.
The rain keeps fallin on my window pane.
You know the rain.
The rain keeps fallin on my window pane.
I said the rain.
The rain keeps fallin on my window pane.
You know the rain.
The rain keeps fallin on my window pane.
I said the rain.
The rain keeps fallin on my window pane.
You know the rain ...
The rain keeps fallin on my window pane.
... keeps right on fallin.
The rain keeps fallin on my window pane.
I said, the rain keeps fallin ...

song performed by by Grand Funk Railroad
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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February Rain

To be the mud, the bog, the mire;
To soak the bones in February –
Eons from the autumn shower–
Even from a summer berry!

Sparrows chirp a desperate call,
Darting questions at the cows –
Oblivious to the dousing squall, they
Churn the sludge with pastern ploughs.

The crying air was lost in rhythm:
Drums incessant in the drops;
Not a chance for rainbow prism –
Even if the hammering stops!

Metallic chills entrap machines –
Tractors hushed within the shed.
Inside the house, a full cuisine
To bless with mead – and little said!

But out across the tiring field,
A sodden fox is hunting down
His prey of sorts – but nil of yield;
Perhaps he’ll starve; perhaps he’ll drown.

Still the clouds are hammering,
Hammering home their dreary aim –
A chatterbox in constant yammering,
Drenching all to make a claim.

Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010

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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Chocolate in the Rain

Dark clouds
loom in the sky;
now the sound of thunder -
breaks the stillness of the evening air.

A flash of lightning
lights up the dark sky.
A light drizzle at first -
and then a heavy downpour.

My heart revels…
at the beautiful sight
of the white rain
outside my window.

And my mouth waters as I see...
a large slab of dark chocolate on the table.
Is this not a little unfair
that it should be just sitting there?

So I decide to nibble on it…
and marvel at its bitterness.
As I watch the falling rain, I tell myself
I shall eat as long as it continues to rain.

But it rains for a couple of hours
and the chocolate is no longer there.
I now wonder -
why I ate it all without a care!

01 June 2010
6: 40 pm

poem by Gita Ashok
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Rain Rain Rain

Rain, Rain, Rain, come again and again,
In the winter, in the summer and in spring,
Come with joy, fall with happiness and go with sorrow,
Rain, Rain, Rain come again and again.

Rain, Rain, Rain come to relive earth's pain,
Rain, Rain, Rain come to make nature happy,
Rain, Rain, Rain come to make livings happy,
Rain, Rain, Rain come again and again.

Rain, Rain, Rain don't go away,
Rain, Rain, Rain i hope you will stay,
Rain, Rain, Rain come again and again.

poem by Vikram Pratap Singh
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My Sneaking Tears

How heavy fell the rain that day
From burdened clouds of mournful grey.
The torrent forced them stay their height -
Composure swayed by onerous might.

My skin wrung wet with icy chill
As mud embraced that sodden hill;
But mind of mine had elsewhere gone -
'Twas clouds abandoned I was on.

The driving drops advanced their gears
To camouflage my sneaking tears -
Whence now did swell such floods of pain
To see me melt into this rain…

On equal bearing now were we:
This rain, myself, in harmony.

Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009

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Rain rain rain rain rain rain rain rain

poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Dropping By Your House This Morning

i dropped by your house this very early morning
the windows are closed
but the door is half-open
and i could have given in to this little curiosity
that cats keep on their paws
and soft feet
or hands if you may

but i didn't. there is something in the houe
that says
you had a bad day and that night you did not have
a sound sleep

the roses are wilting and a flower pot falls on the ground
broken
the soil splashed like spilled water on the grass

there is no sound of the wind
from the storm last night

i just dropped by. I respect you. The door of the house
finally closed
i did not see the hands that closed it.
it maybe yours
or someone else's

the rug has spoken. You want to be alone.
to keep the faint light left
in that little room. the curtains fall. the lights
went off on that very early morning.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Heavy Rain (Not Again)

Heavy rain
Not again
Washing on the line
(Not mine)
Clean the car
How brave you are
Heavy rain
What a pain
Try the beach
It's within reach
The lawn to mow
Where did the sun go
Heavy rain
What a bane
Walk today
That's the way
A bike ride
Why stay inside
Heavy rain
Not again

poem by Rose Angel H
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Rain

(m&l - parfitt)
How can I see what Im leaving for?
How can I give what I gave before?
How can you tell me that you want me to stay?
How can I stay when Im trying to say,
That I cant live without the rain,
Yes I cant live without the rain.
How can I feel what Im trying to feel,
How can I move when Im heel to heel,
Youre always shouting about the doubt in my eye,
But I cant answer cos my eyes are so dry.
Now I cant live without the rain.
Yes I cant live without the rain.
I cant live without the rain,
Thats falling on my head,
Rain thats falling on my head.
Rain thats falling,
Rain thats falling,
Rain thats falling on my head.
Id started thinking back to you when,
Id like to send a line but then again,
How can I write you when there aint no light,
Im feeling tight tonight but thats alright.
Now I cant live without the rain,
Yes I cant live without the rain.

song performed by by Helloween
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rain... Rain... Rain...!

Rain on tinned roof
Rain on concrete
Rain soaking into sands
Rain on soft earth
Rain on metal road
Rain on windscreen

Rain falling into the sea
Rain in the river

Rain on flowers
Rain on leaves
Rain under trees
Rain on hills

Rain on my skin…

Each with its own unique raga
Reverberates across the sky
On to the earth…

05aug2010
10.30hrs

poem by Indira Babbellapati
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Just Like The Rain

Just like the rain,
That pours from the sky,
My love for you will never die.

Just like the rain,
That falls on the ground,
I will always be around.

Just like the rain,
That falls upon me,
I'm as happy as I could ever be.

Just like the rain,
With it's pure beauty,
It surely is a sight to see.

Just like the rain,
I can now see,
We were truly meant to be.

Just like the rain,
Sometimes warm and sometimes cold,
You make my heart, not break, but fold.

Just like the rain,
Beneath your feet,
Just come over here and take a seat.

Just like the rain,
Watch it with me,
So you can begin to see.

Just like the rain,
Who may always know,
That I need to stay, and never go.

Just like the rain,
Who knows what's in my heart,
It knows we should never be apart.

Just like the rain,
Please just stay,
And never go any day.

Just like the rain,
That descends from the sky,
Please, please just give me a try...

Just like the rain,
It doesn't last forever,
But it might if we're together.

Just like the rain,
I'm asking you,
When are you going to?

Just like the rain,
I cannot wait,
Until I'm finally in that place.

Just like the rain,
That's in that place in your heart,
When am I going to be that part?

Just like the rain,
That goes alone,
Am I going to turn into stone?

Just like the rain.
I'm waiting for you,
Waiting until you finally do.

Just like the rain,
That goes away,
Do you really want me to stay?

Just like the rain,
I want to know,
Should I stay or should I go?

Just like the rain,
Before that time is passed,
Why don't you just ask?

Just like the rain,
So mysterious to me,
You are just as much as thee.

Just like the rain,
I feel on my skin,
When will you let this relationship begin?

Just like the rain,
I cannot wait,
So come and ask me,
Before it's too late.

poem by Mystykka Mysterious
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