What Must You Do?
oh, those little things
like the brown grasses of summer,
a flower that blooms in the middle of those rocks
the worm that crawls its way slowly to the humid part
the black bird that stays alone on a branch
the tree that keeps on shedding off its leaves
the dry wind, the post in the middle of the rice field
a banana leaf torn on its sides
a concrete fence surrounding the university
these and those that people do not mind
are mine to write about
we make out our links to all these
we make our own definitions of the self
with what we also mean to them
the black bird staring, the concrete fence of indifference.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
All I Can Do Is Write About It
(allen collins -- ronnie vanzant)
Well this life that Ive lead has took me everywhere
There aint no place I aint never gone
But its kind of like the saying that you heard so many times
Well there just aint no plae like home
Did you ever see a she-gator protect her young
Or a fish in a river swimming free
Did you ever see the beauty of the hills of carolina
Or the sweetness of the grass in tennessee
And lord I cant make any changes
All I can do is write em in a song
I can see the concrete slowly creepin
Lord take me and mine before that comes
Do you like to see a mountain stream a-flowin
Do you like to see a youngun with his dog
Did you ever stop to think about, well, the air your breathin
Well you better listen to my song
And lord I cant make any changes
All I can do is write em in a song
I can see the concrete slowly creepin
Lord take me and mine before that comes
Im not tryin to put down no big cities
But the things they write about us is just a bore
Well you can take a boy out of ol dixieland
But youll never take ol dixie from a boy
And lord I cant make any changes
All I can do is write em in a song
I can see the concrete slowly creepin
Lord take me and mine before that comes
cause I can see the concrete slowly creepin
Lord take me and mine before that comes
song performed by by Lynyrd Skynyrd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Flower and Bird
Amongst the lonely branches of a tree,
Stood a lovely flower fragrant and free,
She was the sight of every passer-by,
'What a beautiful flower! ' people would cry.
The flower in the prime of its youth,
Couldn’t identify life and its real truth,
Proud by its fragrance and beauty it stood,
And thought that beauty was what made it good,
Impressed by its beauty a little bird would sing,
The tale of its love and the whole valley would ring,
Perched on the branch of the great oak tree,
The bird sings its love for the flower to see,
People would stop and look at this tale,
Of the beautiful lady and the gallant male.
And one day the bird let its heart out,
And the beautiful flower refused with pout,
The bird wanting its beloved’s heart,
Asked her, 'What do I do so that we don’t part? '
And the proud flower told the lonely bird,
'There is a flower down the valley, have you heard?
Its brilliant red, is said is more beautiful than me,
So dear bird, make me red, as red as I can be! '
The bird said, 'But your beauty is no match,
So beautiful are you that my heart, you did catch! '
The flower in its pride and anger,
Told the bird 'Oh! Don’t bother',
The sadness in its eyes, the bird couldn’t see,
And said, 'I gift the colour red to thee! '
Saying this he pierced his heart on a thorn,
And spilt the blood on her till he was torn,
And the flower indeed did become red,
With the love of the little bird’s blood,
People would stare at the beautiful flower,
And amongst the branches it would hover,
The people passing soon forgot the song of the bird,
But the silent lament of the flower was never heard,
The flower never forgot the love of its bird,
But the melody of the poor bird was never heard!
poem by Supriya Mothay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Lik A Cat On The Top Of The Concrete Fence
the black cat is silent
still
on the top of the concrete fence
the brown dog
below
keeps on barking
perhaps to the cat
there must be no reason
to infest
with confusion this
solid earth
the view of course is common
nothing important
but somehow i have written you
something
about it.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
As Though There Is Meaning
oftentimes
to make life as new
we make
beginnings
a fence here
a garden within
a new house
in the middle of
the land
and then the old
storms come
again
there is always
this instinct
for destruction
for which we must
be all
thankful
for soon we shall
begin anew
another fence there
a new garden here
another house to replace
the old broken one
in the middle of
the land
and so there is
nowhere
or no one
someone is always
here
something
makes the tick
in truth
just another
deception
for us to sow the
earth again
as though
there is meaning
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Lullaby of the iroquois
Little brown baby-bird, lapped in your nest,
Wrapped in your nest,
Strapped in your nest,
Your straight little cradle-board rocks you to rest;
Its hands are your nest;
Its bands are your nest;
It swings from the down-bending branch of the oak;
You watch the camp flame, and the curling grey smoke;
But, oh, for your pretty black eyes sleep is best,--
Little brown baby of mine, go to rest.
Little brown baby-bird swinging to sleep,
Winging to sleep,
Singing to sleep,
Your wonder-black eyes that so wide open keep,
Shielding their sleep,
Unyielding to sleep,
The heron is homing, the plover is still,
The night-owl calls from his haunt on the hill,
Afar the fox barks, afar the stars peep,--
Little brown baby of mine, go to sleep.
poem by Emily Pauline Johnson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Last Night About The Black Bird
last night this black bird
arrived in your house
bringing you the news
from its master
your hands and feet
tremble
for this was something
very terrible
last night you went
down from your room
and reflected upon the
roots of that old
big tree on the
yard of your house
the black bird had
already flown away
like a stone
thrown in the middle
of a dark night
things always disappear
from you
you ponder
about yourself
the first hello
the happiest moment
the past passes
like a film strip
in your mind
things always tell you about
some unhappy endings
the news about a
certain blackout is inevitable
the blackbird, yes,
the blackbird, now you are pretty sure about it
it was a crow bringing you
about a sad news
the color of which is
as black as the color
of midnight.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Escape
you are in prison and you know it
there are no bars
but you simply feel the closing in of space
around you and you sense the choking
and tightening
of your body with so much pressure
against the walls
of your imagination
the concrete beams
and ceiling moving
towards the floor
and you are at the middle
of all these things
you want to escape
and you assume the shape of a very small bird
growing wings on your sides
like the new born leaves
of a seed
without still the claws and beak and tongue
you fly away
unhesitantly without so much waste
of time
& words
except the note
of a very sad song
left on the barren floor
for someone
you no longer love
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Concrete Mind
Can I get a pass, from my wrongs?
Will you make me not forget?
Are you like a concrete mind,
That's permanently set?
Concrete mind won't wear out.
For when she has a crack.
She only fills in where it's split.
Your wrongs she'll always track.
I thought I would be honest
Lead a new way of life
To concrete mind this is a weapon
She'll use just like a knife
She'll just use it against you
You'll never live it down
Her life is like a circus
And you're the lonely clown
And when you try to fix
The things that have been broken
Concrete mind will take your wrongs
And use them like a token
Where did I go wrong you'll ask
In each and every way
So if you trip and stumble
Concrete mind will say:
“Go straight to jail,
Do not pass go
Be ashamed
You are so low
Just like scum,
You always rise
All of your truths
To me their lies
You past is now
You'll never change
Forgiveness a word
I find so strange
I will forgive
But not forget
My heart is hard
My mind is set
Show you mercy?
Show you grace?
Go find those things
Another place.
All you give.
I'll simply take.
I'll do this till,
Your will I break”
Concrete mind
Will you soften a bit?
I've tried so hard,
But I want to quit.
Like one step forward
And Ten steps back
You throw me a rope
Without any slack
Concrete mind
Can't you see
From your concrete prison
I can't break free
So concrete mind
I ask one last time
Will I ever pay the price
For my past crimes
Your concrete heart
Your concrete mind
Won't let me leave
My past behind
poem by Ryan Lee Morris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Little Black Bird
little black bird of Lia
flying away to Arizona
how is that little black
bird? what is it doing
in the desert? watching
how God paints a very
red orange sunset and
how the wind of the night
erases everything? Little
Black bird of Lia, what
is the reason for the
the leaving of devotion?
is sincerity still found
on that desert flower
blooming without water?
the cactus and some thorns
my loneliness deep like
the desert night, my longing
wide like the wind, my
illusions that life still
imitate art, that i can be
myself. Blackness and wings.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Back To The Middle
She is, twenty five, spent over half of her life
So afraid to speak her mind, its such a shame
cause what a brilliant mind she has
Chorus
And now shes been introduced to confidence
She doesnt see, that she is bordering on arrogance
When will she learn, to come back to the middle
He is, a young black man, grew up without his father
And now it falls into his hands, to protect his mother
cause if he doesnt, well then who will, his older brother lives in fear
Of everything, especially, trying to fill his fathers shoes
Chorus
Respectively, they go to extremes, of masculine and feminine
Chasing dreams, but they keep on falling
cause they dont know no balance
When will they learn, to come back to the middle
Bridge
You must take the good with the bad, and you might hit the wall
Sometimes youll fly and sometimes youll fall
There isnt any way, to avoid the pain
But its getting burned, thats how you will learn
To come back to the middle
Instrumental break
Chorus
Needing to protect your self now that is just a part of life
If you let your fears keep you from flying, you will never reach your height
To get to the top you must come back to the middle
When will we learn, to come back to the middle
Come back to the middle, come back to the middle
Dont make no mind about falling down
cause its when youre in that valley
You can see both sides more clearly
Come back to the middle
song performed by by India Arie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Black Bird That Keeps On Flying
the black bird
keeps on flying
over my head
its wing tips
touch my hair
the black bird
weeps
and my mind
cannot ignore
it
it is seeing you
again
and it does not
know
what to do
with its beak
it wants to kiss you
but your eyes
are angry
it wants to land over
your hair
but they are hard
as wires
the black bird
has no nest for
its eggs
you never mind it
your mind
thinks always of
that white bird
in the sky
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
How Can We Ever Know?
i am the tree in the forest of your mind.
if you paint, i am just one of the lines in the canvass.
if you sing, i will only be one of the notes
and if you write, i am but a syllable.
in the same manner, no matter how i tell you
the truth about myself,
in some shadows of the silhouettes of the night
a dark figure in the middle of the dark background
you grope as i make some protrusions on the wall
you feel something and then the object slips like a fish
back into the sea
sometimes i put on my name and you read it.
you say, i am that name, but i laugh, i am not a name.
on a moonlit night, i am that bird flying away.
you lose sight of me like i am a ball thrown by a child
sucked by the night.
on a sunny day, i pretend as one of the petals in your garden
less the smell, you dismiss me as one of those
that you can always afford to lose.
it is funny, you want to know me, and say you value
this getting to know.
it is sad, i am not concrete. I am always as fluid as the river.
as fluctuating as a mirage.
i am the desert. I am the rock.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Other Greener Pasture
that is the usual case
when you look over the fence that you just built
your eyes gaze to the other side
greener than yours
i mean, the grass, not the greenness of your iris
if you could have built a higher fence
so that you can narrow your gaze
within the four corners of your walls
and live this life that is all yours to own
you could have been happier here
but life is not meant to be
just that
four walls, a higher fence, taking all that come
sitting down
and breathing the air inside
the lungs
which until now have not seen the
rays of the sun
play the game
climb a tree
try jumping over your fences
it is only then when
you realize
that after all
your grass has always been
greener
your air more fresh
your fence most stable.
after all you got a poodle
a rose, a butterfly, a bird,
and this PC
that knows how to write poetry.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
T-birds
Circle high, circle low.
Jammers fly, t-birds.
You show, you show, whiplash go.
You show, you show, t-birds. mighty bird.
T-bird, my mighty bird.
On the dot in the slot, tie the knot.
On the dot timed kisses.
In the slot on the dot, tie the knot.
In the slot, no misses.
Mighty bird.
T-bird, my mighty bird.
T-bird, mighty bird.
Black sun conquerer.
Two thousand years ago... a great race... warriors... lived in... they had many gods... mayans... gods... mazatlan... (if you can fill in these blanks please email [email protected])
Black sun worshipper.
Coil it up, wind it out, strike it hot!
Coil it up plumed serpent.
Coil it up, wind it out, strike it hot!
Coil it up, my t-bird.
Serpent curl.
T-bird, rule the world.
T-bird, mighty bird.
Black sun born again.
Oh I love my t-bird, t-bird.
song performed by by Blondie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Listen to The Song of Invisible Bird!
Listen to The Song of that invisible bird,
The Song of great singer several souls heard,
Sings sitting on tree of life, hidden under every leaf,
Its song go unheard by those pretend deaf,
Ever tuned to that great music,
Everytime it sings same song,
But with different lyrics and different words,
Autumn may come followed by spring,
Leaves may fall to make way to new,
Each leaf has that song, the bird flies under cover of green leaf,
When old yellow one fall,
Green leaves should learn from the fall of the old!
One can wait flowers to bloom,
Or can reap all fruits mature,
or remove immature buds or raw fruits,
The tree of life spread to several worlds,
One parallel to other,
Makes one world happy by another,
some may cross and intersect,
only to give or take life!
Come an sit near a flower,
Look at frog waiting for insects to come,
The invisible bird sings its song,
May it be heart of the flower,
It is flower for you,
source of nectar to insects,
place where frog gets its food!
It is cage for that bird ready to fly,
enters as nectar into insect,
and it enters frog as insects,
and moves along food chain,
It may be invisible to these eyes,
Yet it has its flight can be seen,
Look at your heart, the same bird sing,
Who knows when and where is its next flight?
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Poem Of Syntax
A poet and his bird, his dog, his cat and his tree
A poet and the bird in the tree
A poet and his dog in the tree
A poet and his dog in the tree and the wind and the cloud
The bird in the tree, the dog in the tree, the cat in the tree,
The bird in the tree, the dog on the tree, the cat under the tree,
The bird on the tree, the bird in a tree, a bird in a tree, a bird in the tree,
And the wind and the cloud and the poet and his dog and his cat and the tree
The dog chases the cat the cat chases the bird
And they all arrive in that tree
Where the poet is sitting under that tree
The poet takes the dog and the cat was envious
And the bird looks at them in silence
The silence looks at the poet in the eye
Of the cat and the bird flies away
The poet and the dog is the poem of friendship
The cat and the dog is the poem of the endless natural quarrels
And the bird that flies away against the cat and the dog and the poet and the tree
And flies against the wind that the bird is now fighting
And the clouds that seem so blue and blue
The bird that actually flies away
Is actually me
I was not the poet with the dog
I am not the tree I am not the wind I am not the cloud I am not the poet there who had a dog as friend and I was not the quarrelsome thing from the blue and out of the blue
I am the bird with wings and I always fly away to places
Against the wind to places where I can be as always be the bird with wings in silence
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
to be read with the playing of mozart's clarinet quintet in A, K 581
I ONCE will remember you
entering inside my life like a view from the hills
a black bird perched on a branch of mahogany
there for hours staring at me
tried to shoo you away
you stayed like i am this man that owed you something
and i have not paid you
what you deserve
i closed my door and peeped upon a hole of light
you are still there
there was rain and storm and thunder and lightning
i closed my door and windows and checked the roof for leaks
blackbird you are still there
staring at the house unmoved by my injustices
you are the black bird undying
you are the song insistent upon itself
inside my heart
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Slowly Into Winter
the leaves slowly cascade down
to the ground
as winter turns slowly to winter
the wind blows them around
untill the cold freezes them to the ground
as winter turns slowly to winter
i return each year to find my leaf lying here
each spring it renews it's promise
this year i didn't wait! after the first spring storm
from its branch it was torn, it lied to me again
so this fall, before the free winds blew
i went to my tree and picked the loveliest leaf icould find
and kept it with mine
untill winter turned slowly to spring
poem by Francis E.rudy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Concrete and the Abstract
The concrete is visible,
the abstract is invisible.
The concrete is the outside,
the abstract is the inside.
The concrete is objective,
the abstract is subjective.
People go on searching for
God in the concrete.
'We would like to see God'
-they say.
But only the concrete can be seen;
the abstract has to be felt.
The concrete can be seen-
with the eyes open,
the abstract has to be seen-
with eyes closed.
God is inside you, as you.
You cannot stand outside God
and see Him;
you can see Him
only from the inside-
by being Him.
If you see a flower,
you can look at it scientifically.
You look at the chemistry of it,
You dissect it and
you come to know
about the components of it.
But something is missed
in that very analysis.
The beauty is missed,
because beauty is not a component.
If you ask the scientist -
'Where is the beauty that was in the flower? ’ he will say-
'That was not there,
it was just an illusion.'
'I have dissected it-
all and all,
and these are the things
that I have found.
These chemicals were there,
this matter was there,
these atoms, these molecules....
but there was no beauty.'
But when the scientist
gives the flower to his wife,
he knows deep within his heart
he is not giving her
something chemical,
He is giving to her
the beauty of the flower.
A poet said -
'Beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder',
But I say it lies in the heart of the lover.
That beauty is not be seen,
it has to be felt,
not from the outside,
but from the inside
by being the flower itself.
poem by Nazmul Haque
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!