What She Thought
what her thoughts are
he does not mind anymore
what is important is that he is still intact
a whole man despite the years of rage
and misunderstanding
that after all the deceptions at least he still keeps himself abreast
to his own beliefs,
not rattled, he keeps some words hidden
inside his pockets, he keeps some old pictures
which have become invisible
and permanently useless, he did not throw them just in case
someone so special remembers him again
on his last years
he is tired about her thoughts like some cyclones
on his peaceful island
inside a hill, deep down under is his tunnel
of identity, something that no one,
no storm, no earthquake
can ever destroy
he is not in hiding yet
he is in the open for the meantime that is it spring
the birds still please him
and the clouds with so many images to tell
still comfort him
he steps forward soon
and draws an exit using his stick
soon, soon,
that has always been his kind of dream
a monologue
it is the hope of the stones.
it is this love for a shadow.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
Poetry in Me.........
Oh poetry my friend inside, dormant thoughts lie,
Anger writes the feelings in the speed of thought,
I swing the axe to split the block of inspiration
Mind Pictures in my words sleeping under dreams.
Happiness and sadness hold hands in the whirlpool of words
Metaphor movies flicker in my brain,
Venting feelings to flow from my pen,
Celestial images punctuated live as
Syllables jostle for rhythm’s flow.
Oh poetry my friend inside, dormant thoughts lie,
I find comfort deep within as we write together
With your silent guide my friend,
In the cutting room snakes strangle the ‘odd’ word
Oh poetry my friend inside, dormant thoughts lie,
I find comfort deep within as we write together
With your silent guide my friend,
In the cutting room snakes strangle the ‘odd’ word
Then wonders mark unfolds, originality leaps forth.
My eyes close feeling tired the hour is late
On this session I must close the gate,
Oh poetry my friend inside, dormant thoughts sleep,
A silent friend to keep.
poem by Ken e Hall
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I Breathe Poetry
i confess, i am the master
and i am asleep for years and years
because the curse is there hiding my name
in the tomb of fear and shame
i am the master who has not used the power
of words for years and years because
my tears were frozen
inside my eyes and i have not tasted salt
inside the niche that was built for me
now you come into my life like the winds
of the spring bringing me the flowers
and the rain and the sound of the river
and the songs of the little birds
the hush of your sorrow has given me rebirth
from the deep sleep.
i am the master, and i wake up with words
buried inside my lips. Now i breathe poetry
inside your nostrils, and you too become alive.
come hold my hand, and our shadows fuse as one.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Kind Of Magic
Words and music by roger taylor
Its a kind of magic
Its a kind of magic
A kind of magic
One dream one soul one prize one goal
One golden glance of what should be
Its a kind of magic
One shaft of light that shows the way
No mortal man can win this day
Its a kind of magic
The bell that rings inside your mind
Is challenging the doors of time
Its a kind of magic
The waiting seems eternity
The day will dawn of sanity
Is this a kind of magic
Its a kind of magic
There can be only one
This rage that lasts a thousand years
Will soon be done
This flame that burns inside of me
Im here in secret harmonies
Its a kind of magic
The bell that rings inside your mind
Is challenging the doors of time
Its a kind of magic
Its a kind of magic
The rage that lasts a thousand years
Will soon be will soon be
Will soon be done
This is a kind of magic
There can be only one
This rage that lasts a thousand years
Will soon be done-done
Magic - its a kind of magic
Its a kind of magic
Magic magic magic magic
Ha ha ha its magic
Its a kind of magic
song performed by by Queen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Identity
So lost deep inside,
Is all that makes me.
My true identity,
Is hard to see.
To my friends and family,
I’m a different me.
I have a secret identity,
Wonder if you’ll ever see.
My thoughts and actions,
Are all that makes me,
But some things I may do,
May not describe me.
Now look inside me,
If you ever feel,
like it,
I’m no-one but me,
Never hiding my identity.
Don’t say I am hypocrisy,
Because I never showed you,
two of me.
Now please,
Look at me,
Try to see the real me.
I’m no-one but,
my real identity.
All full of beauty,
Inside me.
poem by Yisel Chong
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It Didn't Matter
It didn’t matter if the moon was full last night, and that I did not count the stars-
Or that the birds were singing upon early morning awakening,
Forty or some odd years ago- or perhaps even before then-
A full moon evoked fantasies of fortune, mystery and desire to know
What existed beyond my own back yard-
Stars were a million light years away and
Brought to mind none but curiosity and fascination-
I never knew why birds sang and hardly cared- as
Their songs were hymns of enchantment,
In tune with love of nature at the rising of the sun -
The dawning of a new day was reason for celebration.
I do not know if the moon was full last night
The sun could rise this morning and
This world could cease to exist-I am lost inside a world of my own
Where I live inside the fortress of my thoughts,
Spoken words echo about my mind and
Inundate with fear, rage and terror-here inside the tenement of my delusions
I have been commanded by voices echoing about the chambers of my mind
To lock the door to actuality, and to toss its key to the wind outside-
The songs of the sparrows have evaded me and
I no longer care to witness the rising of the sun, or
The dawning of a new day, and have become quite a stranger to myself-
It doesn’t matter if the moon was full last night
And not only the stars are a million light years away- as seemingly are
Hopes and dreams for a promising future I had as a child-
I stare upward towards the ceiling counting
The stars that are a figment of my imagination-
Inside the world of my thoughts, dreams and apparitions
I am being inundated by a phantasmal though provocative meteor shower, and
Trapped inside hell’s brushfire that no rainstorm can extinguish;
It has been said that dancing beneath the full moon can bring about loss of sanity-
Hiding inside the safe haven of my fondest dreams
I could be found wishing upon one of those stars
Some millions of light years away-
While I have become a lost soul with no destiny-
Dancing beneath that fickle light of the moon, mistrustful of all intruders, I could be-
Hell’s brushfire has burnt down the bridge that connects veracity to unreality-
Even though it may always remain in question
To whether or not the moon has remained full past midnight as would be hidden behind
Clouds of apprehension, I can still
Wish upon those stars after the day the sun burns out-and perhaps some day
I may find hope, peace of mind and fortune as near as within my own back yard…
poem by Claudia Krizay
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Through My Eyes
I believe-
I believe my thoughts are being broadcasted
I believe you can see my world through my eyes-
When your eyes are closed, I believe that you can hear my thoughts
My thoughts that speak of persecution and threat
These thoughts, as directed towards the rest of the world.
I place my hands over my eyes so that
What is inside of mind does not become
The literature of other people-
Even though my thoughts are silent
When your eyes make contact with mine,
All that I am thinking screams out to you and
I know you wish to harm me.
I believe-
I believe I am being threatened
Being threatened by those who follow my path,
Walking behind me, and somehow
Knowing my destination-
The leaves upon the trees have fallen in autumn and
Now the trees are barren, and I have no place to hide.
This whole world has become the enemy.
I believe my thoughts are broadcasted as I walk,
Kicking aside stones and the leaves that have fallen-
Snow has fallen upon the edge of time and
I stand upon the edge of time, counting the minutes-
Counting every second before the whole world knows of
The anger, hurt and my thoughts misconstrued,
That are torturing me every day and every night-
All I can do is to keep on walking and hope
That one day this mistrust of the world shall
Heal inside my troubled mind and somebody’s eyes
Will make contact with mine and say
“it doesn’t matter to me what you are thinking because
You are a person with a heart and a soul like everyone else and
I believe we all have faults-“ I look towards the sky searching for an increment of hope A world exists inside of me- a beautiful world I hope someday will not matter
If I let somebody inside to see- to know my destination and
I won’t need to hide anymore- when spring comes flowers shall blossom and
Leaves shall grow in the summer- and in the autumn leaves shall turn colors and fall-
I shall continue my journey towards the day I can learn to trust the world around me,
As I kick aside the stones and the fallen leaves as I walk-
With my eyes open to the world, my spirit, unafraid.
Claudia Krizay
poem by Claudia Krizay
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Heart Of Poetry
The mystery of words wisdom of the heart to each
angelic form, the voice of emotion in verse.
The melody of heart speak in words that feels the
emotion to express the deepness of feeling in the mind.
Thoughts of words flow to the emotion to make meaning,
to the essence that moves, sensitivity inside emotion
through the words.
Intellect of mind with the knowledge of experience power of
wisdom transcend to composition to unlock the perfect will of
words justify hidden truth.
The magnificent power compose words gives roots
blossom to the garden of heart and bring fruits to the heart of men.
Love kind words are power to win oneself to transform the
beauty of inside emotion to one particular individual.
The poetry, words of wisdom comes from inner motives of
good heart that gives us privilege to express the hidden
beauty of thoughts inside mind to put it in words.
The power to dominate inside individual for beauty and
wonder purpose of life.
Copyright (c) Jocelyn Dunbar
13th of May 2006
7: 50 A.M.
poem by Jocelyn Dunbar
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How Could I Hide?
There is no escape
Always creeping, always following always there
Always here, there is nowhere to go
Nowhere to run to
Nowhere to stay far from
No distance great enough
No wall strong enough
Never enough
How can you hide
From what is inside
How is that you could distance yourself from that who is in you
That who is you
How is that you could just not be the you who you are
How is it I could not be me
No matter what I do he's there he's in me he is me
How could I not be the sum of my mistakes?
How can You tell me that I'm more
How could I not be something to abhor
I cannot run from who I am, how is that not tied to what I did
What I do doesn't that become me? Do I become that?
My mind tells me that's wrong, my heart is evil, but it knows You
The part of me that does know You says You can erase it all
But I don't feel it, I'm sorry, I often don't, I feel like me
And to me that is the greatest torture to be me
Because the me that I think that I am is someone who I could never
Bear to live as, never, not ever
Instead of believing you I just ask How can I hide?
Can I hide from what's inside?
Can I cease to be me
Can I escape the mistakes
Can I escape the thoughts
Can I escape the identity
Can I escape from me
There is nowhere to run, nowhere I've gone
Nowhere I feel I can go
Will be far enough from me to escape me
Nothing in my mind feels sufficient to conquer me
I cannot divorce myself from what I believe makes me who I am
How could it not rule me, the evil thoughts I have thought
Are not just thoughts in the past, they're thoughts that last
They're thoughts I still think, how is there freedom from that evil
How is their cleansing from that sin
Truly without You there is no hope and I cannot win
But even with all You say about me I don't know how to change
Can I change my idea of me?
Can I come int my new identity?
Can I really escape when I cannot run?
I must fight against him
Show me Your love
Help me please
Cleanse me from 'me'
So that I can be me
poem by David Knox
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Finally You Always Find Yourself Alone
it is a fact of your life
you marry
and have children
and grandchildren
and years pass by
leaving you
with wrinkles and
arthritis
bones that crack
and a brain that
does not remember
recent things
anymore
finally you find yourself alone
in your room
for they too shall find life
of their own
even your wife
has to struggle with her thoughts
and then you begin
to find
the company of God
as something
missing
long been missing
your hands are empty
your heart so hollow
you find yourself back to
where you once began
a cry and then
the silence and the sigh
now,
back to the entrance
and then
the most awaited
exit door
light slipping on the
holes of the wall inside
a dark room
ah, you are in a monologue
the air listens
like a vacuum inside a glass
less dramatic
but should be with
more glory, perhaps...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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How Love Shall End?
at this age, who shall ask about how love
began? if it came in my mind, it is not because i conceive it,
it came by pure
accident, someone mentions a very good beginning,
tight lips, vine-like embraces,
sweat all over the bodies
in a room with no window open.
i am so guilty about what i entertain as a prolonged thought
like a scheme of things
how a glass is crushed against a rock in slow motion
classified as art,
how the tiny pieces gleam against the sound of crashing
eyes screaming and
hands still hiding inside the pockets
of the abdomen
like a kangaroo taking away all its bag of thoughts away
in safe haven,
i am trying to spell departure, planning to have an exit
that graceful one
without any shame at all
i am wondering if this matter could still be put under the domain
of words or on the category of
motion.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Familiarity And Monotony Of Love...
we both
accept it: we do not believe
that love has something to
do with it
we decide
always we decide what to do with our life
marriage included,
agreements renewed
vows restated,
on the same table
of monotony
we serve love
we slice love and take the bite
we pour love in our glasses
we drink love
we smoke love
we sigh
we converse love in the middle of the night
we are tired of love
and we sleep love
in that bed of monotony
we wake up filled with love
we have love for breakfast
we go to work carrying love inside our pockets
we were love in our faces
there is always that familiarity
in the routine of love
and with so much love sprayed in our bodies
day and night
we forget its meaning
we take it as potable water
we do not notice if it still satisfies our thirst
if it fills our hunger like the food that we prepare and eat
we declare after so many years together
still intact under the roof of marriage
we wear love we do not notice if we are dressed at all
we sleep and we are so tired
love is here and yet we do not mind it anymore.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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My place of dreams is not your place
My dreams are of these kinds
Inside the portals of my sleep
It is not for you to live here
Everything is so flimsy
Ephemeral and
Gossamer-like
So disappear, go away where you
May feel alive
Where you are
Living a life concrete as a stone
A landmark of iron
And steel and sounding cobblestones
My thoughts are see-throughs
That you cannot touch
With your fingers
They go through like the air that
You want to grasp and hold
Because in truth my words are fire
And flames
These are the thoughts of the world
When no man was yet created
When no man was yet alive
It is not your kind of thoughts
Your kind of dreams
These words I have been weaving
Inside my heart and mind
They will surely burn you
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Our Years
the years make us familiar
it is the contempt that brings us closer
to the extent of disrespect
as i am eating my meal
you cut your fingernail
on the table
but i do not mind
precisely my thoughts are flying
like birds away
from you
the tunnel of silence without light
visible at the end
you must wonder
why my words are getting nil
and i have too
become choosy on what to say
i still have respect
for myself and will not be swayed
at telling you
the truth of how those years have
expunged
what bad taste is there
for lips which have nothing to offer
for bodies that are warm
yet devoid of love
and meaning.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Invisible Kid
Invisible kid
Never see what he did
Got stuck where he hid
Fallen through the grid
Invisible kid
Got a place of his own
Where he'll never be known
Inward he's grown
Invisible kid
Locked away in his brain
From the shame ant the pain
World down the drain
Invisible kid
Suspicious of your touch
Don't want no crutch
But it's all too much
I hide inside
I hurt inside
I hide inside, but I'll show you
I'm OK, just go away
Into distance let me fade
I'm OK, just go away
I'm OK, but please don't stray too far
Open your heart
I'm beating right here
Open your mind
I'm being right here, right now
Open your heart
I'm beating right here
Open your mind
I'm being right here, right now
Ooh, what a good boy you are
Out of the way and you're kept to yourself
Ooh, can't you see that he's not here
He doesn't want the attention you give
Ooh, Unplugging from it all
Invisible kid floats alone in his room
Ooh, what a quiet boy you are
He looks so calm floating 'round and around in himself
song performed by by Metallica
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dangling From The Truth...
legends tells no lies
but love is
just twisted deep inside
crumple all together
with the schemes and the lies
where the truth comes out
spills overloaded with filth
tryin to cover it up
theres no uses
given all the wrong pieces
told way too many lies
i cant define
whats truly inside
given up
lost with no dreams
useless soul
dangling from the truth
what does it hold inside
nothing
i cant find
too many lies
We’re dangling from the truth
hiding within
covering the light with darkness
gray clouds hover over us
watching our every move
but we're hiding
hiding from the truth
running towards our last hope
with u
collapse
we're traped
lost in the darkness
forever
never to be told
the truth
dangling
from the truth...
poem by Sen unknown
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Tell me what you see
Tell me your thoughts
When you have no thoughts
Tell me what you see
When your eyes are closed
Tell me if you could read my mind
My thoughts would tell you a tale
Between the lines
Tell me story that is told
Experence the paradise
That is in you
Let me hear your voice
To comfort my ears
Rest deep inside my soul
Heal my wounds while I sleep
Holding me down
My fortress strong
poem by Howard Johnson
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Beyond Words Beyond Images
it is ironic, these words claiming
that one day, these words will be beyond words,
that these images will be beyond images
that i will be like those who went their way alone
not befriending anyone but keeps on writing
in the middle of the storm
and cyclones and typhoons
and quakes and volcanic eruptions
beyond destruction, beyond words, beyond images.
smart man.
unlimited.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Consuming Thoughts
There are thoughts inside me,
But I can’t seem to let them free!
The thought of not letting them out is frustrating me!
Its like all the feelings are stuck inside,
I try to let them out oh you have no idea how hard I’ve tried,
And still they stay hidden inside!
I have no idea what I feel,
Whether I am happy, sad, or even if my feelings are real,
I just can’t tell what my emotions and mind feel!
I want to scream out,
And let go of all doubt,
Yet I can’t even describe what there is to let out.
I wish I could tell you,
Could explain how I feel and what I want to do,
Although with everything in my mind my mouth has nothing to tell you.
I am suffocating in my own inability to speak my thoughts,
I feel as if I have nothing inside me even though I know I have lots.
How can it be fair that one’s demise can include one’s own mere thoughts?
By:
Bethany Maxwell © May 31,2010
poem by Bethany Maxwell
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Third Of July
It was the third of july on a cool cloudy sky
I set in for a storm in the makin
I relaxed as I sat up in our three room flat
While my wife was in the kitchen bakin
Thoughts passed through my mind of no special kind
Like faces that look like the others
Tomorrow they say is independence day
And I guess Ill go eat at my brothers
I believe that a thought has just gotten caught
In a place where words cant surround it
It concerns the years past and the shadows they cast
And my path as I walk around it.
It was the third of july on a cool cloudy sky
I set in for a storm in the makin
I relaxed as I sat up in our three room flat
While my wife was in the kitchen bakin
Thoughts passed through my mind of no special kind
Like faces that look like the others
Tomorrow they say is independence day
And I guess Ill go eat at my brothers
song performed by by John Prine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Seeking Heat!
there is a heat
inside the fire,
friction inside the match.
there are clouds
inside each raindrop,
winter snows inside each bud.
there is a joy
hidden deep in sorrow,
there is touch
inside of the lonely.
there is a need
inside each prayer,
there is a hunger
inside those who take.
there is forgiveness
inside of anger.
there is a freedom
inside each cell.
there is a sameness
inside of difference.
there is a mother
inside each man.
there is a man
inside each body,
a hint of god
inside each soul.
there is a heart
inside of each man...
a heart seeking heat!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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