Water Seeking Its Own Level
oh the waters have wisdom
for they always know how to seek
their own level
they do not mind
what name is given to this
mountain
or this plain
or that creek
they all know them all
and they travel
and sleep soundly on their beds soundly
without any murmur
or complaint
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
I'm Losing Sleep Again
Sleep soundly, dear
And do not dream
The nightmares I dream
Sleep soundly, dear
And do not cry
When you wake up to reality
Sleep soundly, dear
And do not believe
You have woken up already
Sleep soundly, dear
And do not stop sleepwalking
Take things slow and steady
Sleep soundly, dear
And do not pretend
I'm sleeping soundly, dear friend
Sleep soundly, dear
And do not lament over
Why I’m losing sleep myself
Sleep soundly, dear
And do not leave me
When you wake up to reality
poem by Dyhanara Rios
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Waters Of Scapa Flow
Seagulls fly low over the waters
of Scapa Flow
where giant warships lie sleeping
in the waters far below.
At the end of the First World War
the Germans gathered their ship in line
and the scuttled them.
Rather than hand them over
to the victors of the war.
Now the mighty warships sleep soundly
with the fish deep blow
in the waters of Scapa Flow.
6 February 2008
poem by David Harris
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Why Does She become a magnet to me
Why does she look at me by turning back?
Why does she suffuse my mind with sweet dreams?
Why does she become magnet and make me iron?
Why does she make me fall in love without loving me?
Why does she sleep soundly stealing my sleep?
Why does she steal my heart without giving her one?
poem by Asif Andalib
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The less you know, the more soundly you sleep.
A mother's arms are made of tenderness and children sleep soundly in them.
quote by Victor Hugo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A New Home Of The Heart....
Last night
I remembered you
Such a sweet memory
About us
I am beside another
soul
beside another warm body
her hands are on my
arms
in circles are the thoughts of you
running in the water
flying over the hills
drifting
vivid and in the colors
of rainbows
And the soundly i sleep
Beside someone who does not even know your name
I am glad i have gone beyond the wooden fences of my mind
Towards another pasture
Crossed the river
And then i walk towards
My new Home....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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At The End Of The Day, You Just Listen
stepping inside the room
you close the same door
sleep on the same bed
but this time, think of someone else,
something else, nothing extraordinary really,
something lovely, and indifferent,
something about dreams that never come true,
those years, wasted time,
leaves that do not serve any purpose
falling on the ground, rotten,
gone.
you accept these as part of you.
and then you
soundly sleep.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Even Without A Single Star In The Sky
i have learned to sleep
soundly on an ocean of
a night sky,
like a tiny fish on a bed
of the ocean floor
without the protection
of corals
i am a prey
to everyone's pleasure.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Dormant Days And Inactive Nights
even if there is no way
for sleep to sleep in the couch
in the bed
the body tries to find
rest... no way, no way,
a whisper is heard in the ear
there is no way out
from here
there is this sound of despair
the music of
hopelessness
you who probably hear it
tonight
in these dormant hours
think that the notes
are divine
you who soundly lies on the sofa
of your
drunken feats
probably cannot distinguish
what is not there
anymore
i am shattered
but there will be no pieces
to piece
to make whole
i fly without wings
like air
you cannot see what is real.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Child Of The Future
What can I give you child of the future,
Child of the Universe grand?
Only my wisdom, calmness and peace,
Through years of making a stand.
To you who hold the world for us all.
Your beauty to shine through the land.
With such warmth and devotion and love for this life,
I offer to you just my hand.
Oh child of the future how soundly you sleep.
I wonder what your life will bring.
May it only bring goodness and beauty and light.
Nothing but wonderful things.
I watch as you sleep and know there is hope,
That the future is all in your hands.
You're the child of the future, the child of our dreams.
The one to bring life to our lands.
What can I give you, you wonderful child,
As you rest at peace in your bed.
I can pass on my knowledge, my wisdom
And learning, and place it all inside your head.
Oh child of the future let love overthrow,
Evil with all that it means.
You're the next generation, I want you to know,
You're the product of all of our dreams.
So rest in your small bed and know as you sleep,
I'm standing beside you so strong.
As you take your path, be it ever so steep,
I'm walking with you all along.
poem by Rosi Caswell
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I prefer to die in my sleep
Darling Edeath!
You're so beautiful
To that transparent dress.
Touch me slowly
As I am scared of your fingernails.
I am not in a mood and let me sleep peacefully
Do not wake me up early.
Bring your kite to the garden of night
Let it go so high and let loose the knot
As you do to the others
And wind takes me away
Wherever she goes!
* A Mother's arms are made of tenderness and children sleep soundly in them.
-Victor Hugo
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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The Moon Over The Pond
the moon sits over the pond
her legs refracted
in shimmers
her gown spreading love
all over the grass
the grasses seep every delight
satisfy their blades
and then soundly sleep
the little blue bird high up
on the tree
looks with all wonder
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Kind Of Love Poem
there is the way
you sleep soundly
by the window with
the moon haphazard
crawling in between
the blinds. I asked you
before falling off to
sleep to please close
them “I can’t sleep
otherwise” I told you
“it’s too bright”, now
I can’t close them, it
would mean waking
the dead, instead I
am looking at old
pictures from the time
you told me, this
wasn’t a forever kind
of thing, now I’m
turning off the light
pulling up the covers
to your chin, thinking
irony, thinking another
February come and
gone, thinking
thinking.
poem by Ben Paynter
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On Dating A Woman Not Your Wife
oh i know how it feels
i wear black
a coat to blend to the night
when i date
a woman not my wife
i imagine a room
a bottle of champagne
a glass
i imagine i undress myself
have my shower
with her
together
we clean ourselves with soap
and water
at the hotel
and then we wipe ourselves
with a clean white
towel
and we spray perfume
to our warm bodies
we imagine
we sleep tonight
and do
the things we have long imagined
we imagine
we wake up the following morning
some light
filtering in
the venetian blinds
some lights
stab our eyes
and we feel the hurt after
the pleasures
that even outside the room
of the hotel that night
we still imagine
sometimes we imagine we have no guilt at all
but it is always there
we still imagine
and we imagine we can sleep soundly
on eyes closed
we travel somewhere else thinking about the first paradise
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Like A Bird I Will Let You Stay In My Nest
like a bird i will let you stay in my nest
because i need you to need me on these dark nights
i will fold my wings and you will be inside them
you will be warm and you will soundly sleep
i will keep watch and i will maintain this silence
this comfort with the moon beside
but soon when your wings and claws are again strong
you must leave and learn to fly alone
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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There Is Also Beauty In Monotony
a cacophony of the sounds of the waves
of the sea
on our counted steps leading to a hut with a single light
from the moon
there we shed off our worn out faces
without eyes we can now sleep soundly
it is the ear that reigns
but when the nightmare of images comes inside the dream
it can be shut off
like an old radio of the ancestral house.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Looking At You I Shall Tell Some Stories
looking at you
i make stories about your face
lovely stories (though there were betrayals
of the skin, i decide not to include it there)
for a person like you shies away from pain
from that which burns
all these you try to evade and so you keep running away
from everything that signifies
heat and fire)
but so much so for that
my stories travel to your hands
(i have this theme about tenderness
caress, affection, love and love
and holding one on top of the other
fingers intertwining) i
do not want to stop in there
my stories shall travel to your feet
and i shall remember
(those stamping of the feet
on the ground
not the dance in bed
but the leaving of footsteps
the closing of the door
and the final sound of the
thuds)
the ending will be sad
there was someone who left without saying goodbye
while the other
was still in bed soundly sleeping.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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On The Long Road To Pagadian
1979. rough times.
there was this
no man's land.of
rebels
dead bodies
were unaccounted for
on the road to
Pagadian.
we were on the bus.
it was a long travel
north of this
coastal island
the seagulls were
at sea looking
for a catch of
silvery fish
we pass them by
the bus was muddy
and the rain fell
hard on the roof
and we closed the
glass window
afraid to get wet
slowly your weary head
inclined towards
my muscular chest
and rested there
and you began to
sleep soundly and
weave your own dreams
i smelled your soft, black hair
and i saw a beautiful face
with luscious lips
red as a rose in bloom
an inch away from mine
i could have kissed you
without your knowing
a slight touch could have
perfected love
on your cheek
but i didn't.
Now i ask myself
if i ever have any regret
living a longer life in this
world. I have an answer.
it was a long, long travel.
and we at last arrived there.
the rain stopped.
the sun started to shine.
i still ask: why did i not kiss you?
why did i not even ask your name?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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