Welcome Stranger To Another World
it is almost dark when i arrive
at this place,
beside the cemented road
a garden of wilting flowers
petals are filled with dust
the trees along the way
towards a bungalow
are shedding off leaves,
sonorous, the place is getting
strange to me with its own
kind of quiet
the door of the house is half open
the swing on the side is not moving
the air is strong
and leaves begin to be flown away
i enter the door
dusting my shoes on the carpet
scarlet in hues
light is filtered by dark green curtains
i remain standing
and you are there waiting
for this final talk
it is strange for i feel
that i do not belong to this place
anymore
i am taking away all my stories
and a book of poems
there is only one thing
i like to say to you
we make an agreement
there will be no more elaborations
no justifications for our past actions
nothing hurting or unkind
we are tired of the pain
i am leaving.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Another One Bites The Past
at 20
i have doubts about you getting into the world
of images, but you have persisted invoking the law
of the leaves and dusts
the pages of the wind you scan
looking for the justifications of your
fate
and every word there
though invisible
has given you the meaning of this
pursuit,
without choice i welcome you
and i am opening this door of emptiness
and you shall enter it
and meet a room that leads you to a bridge
of jagged edges
there the snail with sleepy eyes
shall meet you and serve you a plate of
mongrels of your
past
you will not find it tasty of course
but you shall swallow
bit by bit
because of your hunger
welcome you finally arrive where i am
introducing myself as
a permanent resident
this is the place where we were born
this is the place where we are going to die
it is an empty place it is dark
but be glad
we are serving as light.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Jesus in the suburb
There’s a strange man
standing outside at the garden gate
on the other side of the mailbox
and he is dressed in a uniform
and looks somewhat familiar
but I cannot place him
and funny enough
the dogs are quiet
and to peaceful to my fancy
as if they
know him from somewhere
and I wonder what a traffic cop
is doing outside at the garden gate
and I am half irritated
when I open the front door,
but his uniform is somewhat strange
and looks like a flying suit
that a pilot would wear.
I wonder what he wants
and without talking he asks
do you know me?
There’s a bright like
shining like the sun
out of his loving eyes
and His hands has the marks
of old wounds
that has healed
and I wonder what He is doing
at the door of a sinful fool like me
and I open the gate wide
and He walks in.
poem by Gert Strydom
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How I Wish That We Become Friends
i have read your stories
and poems,
and then i wish we can be
friends
much is common between
us, and i want to tell you
that i am always a
part of those poems, and stories,
there is always a link
between us
categorically on the source
of sorrow, the spring of
hope
i have seen your trees
emptying leaves
birds shedding off flumes
i want to take a ride on your
bamboo raft
to go the place that i also
know
but you are a cloud
and i am a pebble
i gaze at you wanting to
hold you
in that moment but then
you are always gone
always leaving
not telling anymore
anyone
where to?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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It Is Strange
i find the coming days strange
filled with your silence and i am here feeling so abandoned
pampered once by your words of concern
like i am always showered by your rain
when i was once a vast dryland
with grasses all wilting and animals moving away
searching for water,
it is indeed strange when a day goes away without any word from you
when the night comes as black as tar
and as lonely as a house without its children
moving out to another place carrying with them their
conversations and laughter
and oh even the usual noise
those senseless ones that i begin to miss
because of their absence
i miss you and i will be missing you more for the coming empty days
of my life
i am like a window now always open as
the strong winds come and scatter everything that i have written
the night comes like an empty space of darkness where i surrender
without any word
i sleep and then wake up for another day
when the light stabs my face
piercing my heart
this time every change that comes
is pain
because you are not here anymore and without you
i will be always alone
feeling so abandoned like the shell without its flesh
like the skull without a face
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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It Is You All The Way
during times of my confusion
when i have no one to trust
when there is simply no one that i can talk to
no one to be with
on these dark moments on these moments
that i feel like it is alright for me
to leave
to die
to be annihilated by all the monsters in my mind
when i begin to view a resting place
spreading green spaces
flowers all in white
a door that is open that i can easily close
and have my own time with you
it is just you and my hands and my words
and my monologues
just you
because the rest do not want me
because the rest of this world is unkind
and too demeaning
it is you my rain
my sunshine
my confidante
just you in this
and that.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Goodbye
Album: One-Armed Bandit
Track: 11
Here by I return your love
I just wonna give it back
I am fading
The silence can be beautiful but also very cold
But somewhere out there there's a place where I belong
Cause one thing I know
Somewhere out there there's a place where I belong
goodbye
But somewhere out there there's a place where I belong
goodbye
But somewhere out there there's a place where I belong
The choises can be hard to make
Is it luck or is it love
I am waiting
I'm waiting for the voice inside me to tell me what I'm not
But somewhere out there there's a place where I belong
Cause one thing I know
Somewhere out there there's a place where I belong
Goodbye
But somewhere out there there's a place where I belong
Goodbye
But somewhere out there there's a place where I belong
( x 2)
song performed by by Zornik
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Worries
my wife worries
about the dream that
i told her about
this early morning while
we are taking breakfast
it is all about a boat
alone
waiting on the bank
of the river
under a shade of trees
on filtered light
through the leaves
it worries her to know
that somehow soon
we shall be that boat's
passengers
that accommodate only
one of us
and not both
the other side has no name
but it is a place so certain
and acceptable
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Back To An Old Place
it is summer
scorching summer
season creeping,
grasses are wilting
trees are shedding of
their last leaves,
what i see are bones
of trees,
skeletons of
branches,
the dry wind keeps
blowing the leaves
away,
what i have is this
bald surrounding
emptied of their
essence
beyond me are
brown mountains
vultures are
in the skies
eying for
death as prey
i sit upon a rock
the only rock
left here
i have no cover on
my head
i am half naked
i have no one to talk
to,
they have left this
arid place
a long time ago
i am back
i am telling the
sand soil,
i have something
to write and
tell the world
about it
it is summer
in this vast desert
a long time ago
this was ours
and the trees are green
grasses verdant
butterflies flutter
and innocently
land on our
hands.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Great Escape
Heading for the great escape
Heading for the rave
Heading for the permanent holiday
Heading for the winter trip
Heading for the slide
Heading for the dignified walk away
Heading for the open road
Goodbye to all that
Heading for the automatic overload
Standing in the open boat
Standing in the swing
Waiting for the ringing and the bright light
Waiting to be recognised
Quiet applause will do
They shower you with flowers when they bury you
You're holding on, you're holding on ...
I. The Last of You
Just when I thought I'd seen the last of you
You come here scratchin' at my door
Your pain and anger's in the howling dark
Of every corridor I walk
So tell me more about the love that you rejected
Tell me more about the trust you disrespected
I still don't know, why did you hurt the very one
Why did you hurt the very one
That you should have protected?
Heading for the great escape
Heading for the rave
Heading for the permanent holiday
Heading for the high cloud-nine
Heaven number seven
Heading for the long goodbye
Uncurl the fingers that hold
Summon the strength to let go
Out of the tired world
Out of the upset
Into the sunset
song performed by by Marillion
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Great Escape
(music: marillion lyrics: steve hogarth & john helmer)
Heading for the great escape
Heading for the rave
Heading for the permanent holiday
Heading for the winter trip
Heading for the slide
Heading for the dignified walk away
Heading for the open road
Goodbye to all that
Heading for the automatic overload
Standing in the open boat
Standing in the swing
Waiting for the ringing and the bright light
Waiting to be recognised
Quiet applause will do
They shower you with flowers when they bury you
Youre holding on, youre holding on ...
(I) the last of you
Just when I thought Id seen the last of you
You come here scratchin at my door
Your pain and angers in the howling dark
Of every corridor I walk
So tell me more about the love that you rejected
Tell me more about the trust you disrespected
I still dont know, why did you hurt the very one
Why did you hurt the very one that you should have protected?
(ii) fallin from the moon
Dont ask me why Im doing this
You wouldnt understand
Youre asking the wrong questions
You couldnt understand
A bridge is not a high place
The fifty-second floor
Icarus would know
A mountain isnt far to fall
When youve fallen from the moon
Theres murder on the street
Im ashes on the water now, somewhere far away
I have fallen, fallen from the moon
song performed by by Marillion
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One summer when the wind was strong
This is the place, now we are here again
I remember that summer when the wind was strong
And everything around us was dry,
The acacia trees towered and showered us with
Round leaves falling and falling and falling
Some birds were there and they flew away
Some cars were there and they speeded away
It was getting dark and it was a dry summer
We stayed there for a while when the leaves fell
Then we went under the trees not seeking shelter
But to catch those leaves falling and falling and falling
We are trying to feel again what falling was
We are here on this summer, we see the leaves
Falling and falling again to the dry wind,
We try to recall about us, but there is simply
Nothing about us anymore, but just the same
The leaves fall and fall and fall, we see them reenacting
There is that meaning; there it is in the falling
But we have outgrown it, we look for more, we hope
We can find some more, something beyond us.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Envoy For "A Child's Garden Of Verses"
WHETHER upon the garden seat
You lounge with your uplifted feet
Under the May's whole Heaven of blue;
Or whether on the sofa you,
No grown up person being by,
Do some soft corner occupy;
Take you this volume in your hands
And enter into other lands,
For lo! (as children feign) suppose
You, hunting in the garden rows,
Or in the lumbered attic, or
The cellar - a nail-studded door
And dark, descending stairway found
That led to kingdoms underground:
There standing, you should hear with ease
Strange birds a-singing, or the trees
Swing in big robber woods, or bells
On many fairy citadels:
There passing through (a step or so -
Neither mamma nor nurse need know!)
From your nice nurseries you would pass,
Like Alice through the Looking-Glass
Or Gerda following Little Ray,
To wondrous countries far away.
Well, and just so this volume can
Transport each little maid or man
Presto from where they live away
Where other children used to play.
As from the house your mother sees
You playing round the garden trees,
So you may see if you but look
Through the windows of this book
Another child far, far away
And in another garden play.
But do not think you can at all,
By knocking on the window, call
That child to hear you. He intent
Is still on his play-business bent.
He does not hear, he will not look,
Nor yet be lured out of this book.
For long ago, the truth to say,
He has grown up and gone away;
And it is but a child of air
That lingers in the garden there.
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
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Stranger In My Own House
(a capella: she said: boy, your luck is running out...she make me feel like a stranger...in my own house)
I come stumbling in at a quarter to three
To the sound of my own dog growlin at me
Im scared to move or turn on a light
Youve got me creepin around in the dark
Like a thief in the night
Ive got no excuse, I should have known
Ive got no place to live
I never feel at home
I walk into the kitchen to see whats there
Im tired and Im hungry but the cupboards bare
Ive been working all day and all night too
I cant believe this is all I have to come back to
I guess Ill take a look upstairs, in the danger zone
I wonder what Im doing here
When I never feel at home
Im a stranger in my own house
Ive got the keys to the door
But Im still locked out
Im a stranger in my own house
Ill huff and Ill puff and Ill blow this house down
Cant be a stranger in my own house
I see the do not disturb sign on my bedroom door
What is this sheet and pillow laying on the floor
I wore out my welcome
I hear you loud and clear
Its time to get a few things straight around here
Ive got no excuse, I should have known
Ive got a place to live but I never feel at home
Im just a stranger in my own house
Ive got the keys to the door
But Im still locked out
Stranger in my own house
Ill huff and Ill puff and Ill blow this house down
Cant be a stranger in my own house
Ive got no excuse, I should have known
With a woman like you Im better off alone
Im a stranger in my own house
Ive got the keys to the door
But Im still locked out
Im just a stranger in my own house
Oh, honey Im home
Im just a stranger in my own house
Im just a stranger in my own house
You got a lion on your hands girl, not a mouse!
Im just a stranger in my own house
Im just a stranger in my own house
Well, somebodys got to go...
Stranger
Stranger
song performed by by Foreigner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Don't Talk Back
Well it's half my heart and a little bit of soul
That makes me feel I've gotta ride this road
I wouldn't change it if I could
And me and this road you
You know we've got an understanding
It won't leave me at home and I am
Too tired to do just what I should
And last night I asked if I could
Take comfort in the rosewood
The road said nothing at all
Well cos it don't talk back unless the wind blows hard
I drive it all night with the wheel of my car
It won't leave me running for the door
And if the paints still wet I can just slow down
And it all goes away on the other side of town
And nothing is that easy anymore
Well the hurt won't leave with the sight of white line
But it eases up my pain for a while
The only habit that I keep
And miles take time but the time is mine
And always moving suits me fine
I'll catch my breath when I sleep
And after all that I've done
I'm not half what I'd hope that I'd become
There's still along way to go
Well cos it don't talk back unless the wind blows hard
I drive it all night with the wheel of my car
It won't leave me running for the door
And if the paints still wet I can just slow down
And it all goes away on the other side of town
And nothing is that easy anymore
And last night I asked if I could
Take comfort in the rosewood
The road said nothing at all
Well cos it don't talk back unless the wind blows hard
I drive it all night with the wheel of my car
It won't leave me running for the door
And if the paints still wet I can just slow down
And it all goes away on the other side of town
And nothing is that easy anymore
Yeah cos it don't talk back unless the wind blows hard
I drive it all night with the wheel of my car
It won't leave me running for the door
And if the paints still wet I can just slow down
And it all goes away on the other side of town
And nothing is that easy anymore
song performed by by Kasey Chambers from The Captain
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Fear
A lantern light from deeper in the barn
Shone on a man and woman in the door
And threw their lurching shadows on a house
Near by, all dark in every glossy window.
A horse's hoof pawed once the hollow floor,
And the back of the gig they stood beside
Moved in a little. The man grasped a wheel,
The woman spoke out sharply, 'Whoa, stand still!'
'I saw it just as plain as a white plate,'
She said, 'as the light on the dashboard ran
Along the bushes at the roadside-a man's face.
You must have seen it too.'
'I didn't see it.
Are you sure--'
'Yes, I'm sure!'
'-it was a face?'
'Joel, I'll have to look. I can't go in,
I can't, and leave a thing like that unsettled.
Doors locked and curtains drawn will make no difference.
I always have felt strange when we came home
To the dark house after so long an absence,
And the key rattled loudly into place
Seemed to warn someone to be getting out
At one door as we entered at another.
What if I'm right, and someone all the time-
Don't hold my arm!'
'I say it's someone passing.'
'You speak as if this were a travelled road.
You forget where we are. What is beyond
That he'd be going to or coming from
At such an hour of night, and on foot too.
What was he standing still for in the bushes?'
'It's not so very late-it's only dark.
There's more in it than you're inclined to say.
Did he look like--?'
'He looked like anyone.
I'll never rest to-night unless I know.
Give me the lantern.'
'You don't want the lantern.'
She pushed past him and got it for herself.
'You're not to come,' she said. 'This is my business.
If the time's come to face it, I'm the one
To put it the right way. He'd never dare-
Listen! He kicked a stone. Hear that, hear that!
He's coming towards us. Joel, go in-please.
Hark!-I don't hear him now. But please go in.'
'In the first place you can't make me believe it's--'
'It is-or someone else he's sent to watch.
And now's the time to have it out with him
While we know definitely where he is.
Let him get off and he'll be everywhere
Around us, looking out of trees and bushes
Till I sha'n't dare to set a foot outdoors.
And I can't stand it. Joel, let me go!'
'But it's nonsense to think he'd care enough.'
'You mean you couldn't understand his caring.
Oh, but you see he hadn't had enough-
Joel, I won't-I won't-I promise you.
We mustn't say hard things. You mustn't either.'
'I'll be the one, if anybody goes!
But you give him the advantage with this light.
What couldn't he do to us standing here!
And if to see was what he wanted, why
He has seen all there was to see and gone.'
He appeared to forget to keep his hold,
But advanced with her as she crossed the grass.
'What do you want?' she cried to all the dark.
She stretched up tall to overlook the light
That hung in both hands hot against her skirt.
'There's no one; so you're wrong,' he said.
'There is.-
What do you want?' she cried, and then herself
Was startled when an answer really came.
'Nothing.' It came from well along the road.
She reached a hand to Joel for support:
The smell of scorching woollen made her faint.
'What are you doing round this house at night?'
'Nothing.' A pause: there seemed no more to say.
And then the voice again: 'You seem afraid.
I saw by the way you whipped up the horse.
I'll just come forward in the lantern light
And let you see.'
'Yes, do.-Joel, go back!'
She stood her ground against the noisy steps
That came on, but her body rocked a little.
'You see,' the voice said.
'Oh.' She looked and looked.
'You don't see-I've a child here by the hand.'
'What's a child doing at this time of night--?'
'Out walking. Every child should have the memory
Of at least one long-after-bedtime walk.
What, son?'
'Then I should think you'd try to find
Somewhere to walk--'
'The highway as it happens-
We're stopping for the fortnight down at Dean's.'
'But if that's all-Joel-you realize-
You won't think anything. You understand?
You understand that we have to be careful.
This is a very, very lonely place.
Joel!' She spoke as if she couldn't turn.
The swinging lantern lengthened to the ground,
It touched, it struck it, clattered and went out.
poem by Robert Frost
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Que Dia Es Hoy (Self Control)
Which day is today?
Which day is today,
Day which rules my world,
Without control at my actions,
Little humor gets me up,
There is no sunshine, it is not summer,
My garden has been dry.
There are no flowers,
And my love is gone.
My heart thinks that it will explode,
Without looking at my really age,
Plants in my garden will arise again,
And I will not forget that it is like that.
My heart thinks that it will explode,
If we see at none place,
If I never get out from this dark,
If I never give you a strong hug.
Hey, you have one good chance,
Promise to me that you won't go back in the past,
I promise that I will always love you,
With my body and my brain,
Everything will be different, yes,
hey, there are a lot of stuffs
About which we can talk about,
I know that start isn't difficult,
it's always my better side,
we have already forgot the past,
And we have returned in the present.
Sound of sadness in my room,
There is no light just spark,
Only religion and hope,
Illusion without revenge,
I have already past the same destiny,
I want to talk with you like a friend,
Compare our destines.
I love you my love, I love you without control.
song performed by by Ricky Martin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When They Call You, You Must Go
do not refuse a chance to be a hero,
so on this day,
or tonight, when they call your name
go,
do not tarry, be ready with the raincoat
and the flashlight
you just do not know what happens next
they will take you to the place
a house on the side of the forest
at the foot of the mountain
there is no fire there
no smoke
nothing is cooked for supper
there is a bleeding man
and he is groaning in pain
and they open the door and you enter
with your black leather bag
and they call you
doctor
there is no ideology here
nothing to talk about
and you begin to take away the bullet
that pierced his strong flesh in the arm
and on his belly
there is no anesthesia and so you put
a red cloth on his mouth
until he faints and then there is silence
no song for the dead even
you cannot sleep over this calling
until you find light
penetrating the holes of the roof
it is already morning
and they all left and you do not know
where they are going
a child with sharp eyes calls your name again
he lead you to the exit point
back to your
old house in the subdivision where you live
where your wife is waiting
your breakfast is ready, your coffee cold.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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To Begin With
to begin with
he smiles and they begin to like him
because he is contagious
his smile travels from one place to another
like the way the butterfly hovers from one flower
another flower in the garden of
peace and quiet
to begin with
he keeps a hold on something that makes him happy
despite the odds
despite the fact that it is his own house that is burning
despite the fact that all the bridges going to his place have all been broken
to begin with
he is naked and he has nothing to cover himself anymore
to begin with
he is foremost his own being
and it is only this that all of them cannot take anymore
and so he keeps the promise
to maintain this emptiness so they may all become full
and guilty and sad.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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To Change Me?
when you arrive here
you change the paint of the house
you like it pastel blue on the door
white on the walls
and green on the windows
you change the landscape
except of the wanton garden
you opt for a manicured lawn
and some of my trees
and shrubs have to be
cut down,
some flowers have to go
you bring in
the violets, and lavenders
and white champacas
you like a scent from around
you
specially during the night
when we simply sit
on the lawn
now you begin to demand
some changes from me
the time when i wake
up or sleep
you like soap i like sports
you want me to enjoy
love stories
the color of my socks
my tie my polo shirts
i give in for a while
but there is an end to all these
attempts to change me
you cannot,
i am me before the landscape
before the paints of the house
i am me before the lawns and flowers and socks
and shirts and soap
i am already me before you arrive
to my house
to my life
you cannot change me
because
i love who i am what i am and i know perfectly just what i want to make
myself
even without you,
make some more attempts to change me
and i will ask you to leave at once
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Spectator....
everyday the fathers escort their kids to school in this place where i live
fronting my house where the kindergarten school is built
the fathers talk a lot while waiting and i am listening as the distance is
just near the window where i sit and observe where i keep on writing a lot of
stories and whatever is coming inside my brain...
the talk travels on their orbits in circular fashion without a specific direction
just passing the hours consuming every minute while waiting
then the bell rings and the kids go out from their rooms rushing to the arms of
their fathers who pick them up and put them on their seats on the motorcycle
it is 12 noon
the motorcycles one by one leaves the place and proceeds to their houses
this happens every day except during Saturdays and Sundays where the place
is so silent and empty except for the rustle of some leaves that fall from
the mahogany trees on windy days
which is not always
i am faithful to this scenery.
i am the spectator watching the fullness and emptiness of some days
figuring out
relevance.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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