What You Will Miss Here Baby
...the ripe bananas
the coconut juice and young meat
the local wine
the rice cakes
the fruits that you can pick from the trees
the lone line of beaches
surrounding practically the whole island
the fresh air
the wide expanse of green fields
the peace and quite
the hospitality of the people
we have it just name it
and it's all yours for free
because we care.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
There It Sat Uncracked
And there it sat...
Uncracked.
On a remote and isolated beach.
Seeking with wishes!
Screaming from the inside,
With its untouched juice and meat.
'Why doesn't anyone come to crack me?
I've been a good coconut!
Am I doomed to lay here forever untouched? '
Unheard are the pleas!
'If anyone there can hear me,
PLEASE crack me open.
I am here with untouched juice and meat! '
And the monkey...
Once a coconut freak,
But now...
Strickly into bananas,
As a preferred diet of choice to eat...
Settled down to nap.
High above in the palm tree!
With eyes dosing to a close!
'If anyone there can hear me,
PLEASE crack me open.
I am here with untouched juice and meat!
I've been a good coconut! '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Come, Come Stay With Us, This Is Our Paradise
on the other side is the coastal beauty
of sky blue clear seas and coconut palms
at the opposite of the other side one takes
the road leading to the green mountains
the forest trees are nest of birds and
the branches are playthings for monkeys
below the mountains are villages
sleepy and peaceful and cooler with
fresh air and flowery gardens
a vast expanse of rice and corn fields
rivers still teeming with fish
the people still opting for peace
this is our paradise. Come, stay with us.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Summer
summer is an ancestral house
surrounded with antique trees
blushing leaves
rainbow flowers
nearby the blue sea
white sticky rice and
grilled tangigue
fresh buko juice and
straw hat and a swing
between two coconut trees.
and silence and sea breeze.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Bananas & Cream
(kinky friedman)
Well, a long time ago in old tokyo
By the softly flowing stream
I left her there with the stars in her hair
On the other side of a dream.
Well, I traveled through with a heart full of blue
Never quite making my way
Till I come upon a strawberry blonde
Living in pittsburgh, p.a.
Ah, bananas and rice they used to be nice
On the other side of a dream.
Oh, bananas and rice they used to be nice
But now its bananas an cream.
I stood hypnotized, I stared in her eyes,
She smiled and I suddenly knew
If I made her my bride then the other side
0f my dream would finally come true.
Ah, bananas and rice they used to be nice
On the other side of a dream.
Oh, oh, bananas and rice they used to be nice
But now its bananas and cream.
Well, a long time ago in old tokyo
By the softly flowing stream
I left her there with the stars in her hair
On the other side of a dream.
Ah, bananas and rice they used to be nice
On the other side of a dream.
Oh, bananas and rice they used to be nice
But now its bananas and cream.
Bananas and rice used to be nice
On the other side of a dream.
Oh, oh, bananas and rice they used to be nice
But now its bananas and cream.
Bananas and rice used to be nice
On the other side of a dream.
Bananas and rice ...
song performed by by Kinky Friedman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bananas And Cream
(Kinky Friedman)
Well, a long time ago in old Tokyo
By the softly flowing stream
I left her there with the stars in her hair
On the other side of a dream.
Well, I traveled through with a heart full of blue
Never quite making my way
Till I come upon a strawberry blonde
Living in Pittsburgh, P.A.
Ah, bananas and rice they used to be nice
On the other side of a dream.
Oh, bananas and rice they used to be nice
But now it's bananas an cream.
I stood hypnotized, I stared in her eyes,
She smiled and I suddenly knew
If I made her my bride then the other side
0f my dream would finally come true.
Ah, bananas and rice they used to be nice
On the other side of a dream.
Oh, oh, bananas and rice they used to be nice
But now it's bananas and cream.
Well, a long time ago in old Tokyo
By the softly flowing stream
I left her there with the stars in her hair
On the other side of a dream.
Ah, bananas and rice they used to be nice
On the other side of a dream.
Oh, bananas and rice they used to be nice
But now it's bananas and cream.
Bananas and rice used to be nice
On the other side of a dream.
Oh, oh, bananas and rice they used to be nice
But now it's bananas and cream.
Bananas and rice used to be nice
On the other side of a dream.
Bananas and rice ...
song performed by by Kinky Friedman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Green Bananas
Does anyone eat green bananas?
then why have them in the stores?
By the time you think of eating one ripe!
they're full of fruit flies, in the hundreds or maybe more!
My husband loves green bananas
he says, cause they're solid and much more flavorful.
I think they taste kind of green and bitter
with every green and bitter mouthful!
I wonder if monkeys eat them green?
Or do they also wait until they're ripe?
Just peeling them when they're green
leaves those long stringy things of white!
I've taken to freezing mine now
in plastic bags, for my daily protien shakes!
Now I don't have to worry about the ones that turn black!
From the green ones that I wouldn't take!
poem by Linda Winchell
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When My Dreams Say, ' We Are No More There
When my dreams say, ' We are no more there'
I shall sail unto an island far off.
There I shall have the sapling of a dream tree planted
And it will grow.
When my dream tree begins to bloom
I will never pluck its flowers ever,
So will when its fruits begin to ripe
I remain hungry and thirsty there.
I shall lie in the shade of the tree
Without ever dreaming to have a dream for me.
Then I shall climb its branches and see for myself
The vast expanse of water green or blue.
I shall hoot from the top of it like an own
Blind often or blinded by the dreams of the past.
I shall shout unto the skies blue
About having dreams aplenty and not still having them.
When I once return to the home in the mainland,
I shall carry one hundred fruits from the dream tree,
I shall give them to men and women I like most
And nay, I will never give them to children ever.
I shall play hide and seek with children
And shall tell about the need for climbing the dream trees
Which will grow and touch the sky once
Even as they might still be dreaming a lot.
But I am afraid, friends,
Even as my dreams have begun to fade out
My island withers out further
And I am left with a rudderless boat
To sail unto that green paradise of my Utopia!
poem by M.d Dinesh Nair
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Back To The Usual Walk In The Rice Fields
i am back to this place
and i am feeling strange
there are changes
and some i can tell have been missing
a few meters from where i stand
under this mahogany tree
where the wind is cold and fresh
flavored by the newly cut rice stalks
over this spread of golden fields
the well is still there
but the brown woman with earth skin is gone
an island of coconut trees
(and some mango trees
and banana shrubs)
has turned bald
and the grasses claim another territory to its grassland
the sparrows must have migrated to the nearby forest
the cable lines run an empty length of a sigh
from one pole to another
endlessly clinging is this anonymous electricity
the twenty or so white herons are here again
pecking on some little frogs in small ponds
i walk under the sun
revisiting reevaluating rekindling perhaps
the reasons why i must go on living
a life unlived for quite a time
why are the fields empty? why are the blackbirds circling the tree?
why do people pass by this path unable to know the significance
of this human journey?
the sun is up like an absurdity triumphant
a dog comes near me
it is waggling its tail and i am calling him another name.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Deserted Fields
seldom do you find this place
tall grasses on the fields
white herons feeding
upon the green frogs gallivanting
on the muddy pools
bluer skies fresh air
trees nested by sparrows
trails of men
there are no houses here
flowers on the pavement bloom
nobody comes here anymore
most of them have left for good for the city
where work is available
where money can be harvested
like fruits from concrete trees
from cemented fields
under the flicker of neon lights
from unfriendly people
i am here, at home, with all my silence.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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the bananas of Catalina...
the bananas of Catalina
do not have fruits
the winds here are strong
and the trees all have fallen
to the ground
the bananas of Catalina
still do not have fruits but always
mind you
always they have always
been strong...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I Have To Walk Away Again Looking For The Fresh Air
one finds a hard time nowadays
looking for fresh air
i step over a good view of the rice fields
from an Asian perspective
the rice fields are flowering
dews still sticking on the blades of grass
the sun is slowly rising from the mountains
a lot of fog hang on the sides
coconut trees are towering
not much winds today from the sea
a middle aged farmer stands under a tree
with his sweater on and his long bolo on his side
smoking his cigar
the woman in the house is cooking mud fish for breakfast
meanwhile she goes out and
starts a fire under the mango tree
burning a rubber tire
to drive some insects away
which she thinks are destroying
the tiny white flowers of
the tree
i smell the smoke coming from the cigar
it is floating in the air
the smoke from the rubber tire burning
is choking me
somehow that is what is being done to this world
brought about by ignorance and superstition and bad habits
i have to walk away again
looking for the fresh air
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sailing On The Tide
Here I am feeling confined
Neon lights are making me blind
I need time out in the sunshine
The city and me just dont agree
On who I should be
Maybe I should get away
Take myself a holiday
No more calls begging my time
No more walls for me to climb
I cant wait to feel the sunshine
Leaving at down
After Im gone life go on
Someones gonna take my place
Runninn in the human race
(*) sailing on the tide in the morning
Now I love that salty air
Sailing to the wide horizon
Let the fresh winds
Guide us there
Maybe if you feel like it, too
You might like to make the run
Sailing over the ocean
To my beautiful island in the sun
Over there people are slow
Low key life is all that they know
Lying around high on the sunshine
Lazy lagoons warm afternoons
Tropical moons
Sleepy beaches everywhere
Anyone is welcome there
Make no plans play it by ear
Could be days maybe a year
Im gonna be free in the sunshine
Takin my time tryin to find
Some peace of mind
Nothins gonna hurry me
Nothins gonna worry me
Repeat (*)
Sailing on the wide horizon
Let the fresh winds
Guide us there
Maybe if you feel like it, too
You might like to make the run
Sailing over the ocean
To my beatiful island in the sun
song performed by by Carpenters
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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For Papa Gregorio
And then I finally reached
The narrow mouth of the river
That you told me about
And I was left with no choice
But to sail right there
On this wooden boat that you
Left me
I did it and here I am getting on
The sight of an island
A bountiful island with brooks
And green grass and
Coconut trees and
Lanzones trees
I am here finally
In accordance with the maps of your dreams
And tonight
I look at your sky
And I see the hundred smiles
Of your glittering stars
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Passion Fruits
there were too many passion
fruits in the garden
of my Papa
it is a vine that climbs
atop trees
covering them
they all fall this summer
these ripe passion fruits that most of our neighbors
know nothing about
how they taste what is their use
&
as a consequence of that ignorance
no one takes a passion fruit
for a cold refreshing juice this summer
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Kiwi
Fruit without a stone, its shiny
pulp is clear green. Inside, tiny
black microdot seeds. Skin
the color of khakiImagine
a shaggy brown-green pelt
that feels like felt.
It's oval, full-rounded, kind
of egg-shaped. The rind
comes off in strips
when peeled with the lips.
If ripe, full of juice,
melon-sweet, yet tart as goose-
berry almost. A translucent ring
of seed dots looks something
like a coin-slice of banana. Grown
in the tropics, some stone
fruits, overlarge, are queerly
formed. A slablike pit nearly
fills the mango. I
scrape the fibrous pulp off with my
teeth. That slick round ball
in avocado (fruit without juice) we call
alligator pear:
Plant this seedpit with care
on three toothpicks over a glass
of water. It can come to pass
in time, that you'll see
an entire avocado tree.
Some fruits have stones, some seeds.
Papaya's loaded with slimy black beads.
Some seem seedlesslike quince
(that makes your tastebuds wince.)
Persimmon will
be sour, astringent 'until
dead ripe,' they say. Behind
pomegranate's leathery rind,
is a sackful of moist rubies. Pear,
cantaloupe, grapefruit, guava keep their
seeds hidden, as do raspberry, strawberry,
pineapple. Plum, peach and cherry
we know as fruits with big
seedstones. And fig?
Its graininess is seed. Hard to believe
is prickly durian. It's custard
sweetand smells nasty.
But there's no fruit as tasty,
as odd, or as funny
none
as fresh-off-the-vine New Zea-
land kiwi.
poem by May Swenson
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Round The Trees We Run
Wild flowers we pick
Butterflies, so colorful we chase
Not a thorn we fear would prick
Time in space not afraid to loose
For all is bare, and flower-juice we lick
You giggle, your cheek, my hand I place
Swallows, Gazelles, and Dick-dick
Marvell and stare, and make for glories
Grass, green and soft, a desire to pick
Tree leaves, they sway and dance
Round the trees we run, loose stumps I kick
My love, fruits we pick, heaven the place!
poem by Charles Jagongo Ogola
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Im Going Bananas
Hola! ese bato loco!
Im going bananas,
And I feel like my poor little mind is being devoured by piranhas,
For Im going bananas.
Im non compos mentes,
And I feel like a tooth being drilled, a nerve being killed by a dentist,
For Im non compos mentes.
Who knows?
Could be the tropic heat
Or something that I eat,
That makes me gonzo.
I do carry on so, for Im going bananas,
Someone book me a room in the hot haciendo with all my mananas
For Im going bananas.
Im going meshuga
All day long theres a man in my brain incessently playing booga wooga,
But Im going meshuga.
Theres bats in my belfry.
Wont you make sure this straightjackets tight,
Otherwise I might get myself free.
Yes, theres bats in my belfry.
Who knows?
Could be the wine I drink
Or its the way I think,
That makes me gonzo.
Oh, doctor alonzo says Im going bananas,
Someone get me a bed in the casa de loco for all my mananas,
For Im going bananas.
Yes, Im going bananas.
Si, Im going bananas.
song performed by by Madonna
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The juice of an Immature coconut Is not like the real coconut juice.
Peace Everywhere
Peace, everywhere, peace today!
Peace in lands of scruffy trees and pine,
Peace in lands of olives and wine,
Peace in lands where peaks are white,
Peace in lands where fields are bright.
Peace in lands of oasis and sand,
Peace in lands where people band,
Peace in lands where children play,
Peace in lands where people pray,
Peace in lands in the thick of the fight,
Peace in lands ruled by force and might.
Everywhere, everywhere, peace this day!
Pray that all world leaders lead the way,
Encouraging moral people to stand proud and tall,
No government too great, no nation too small.
poem by Joseph T. Renaldi
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The Mountain Of Poverty
this is what i can tell you:
the children are running in the hills
looking for their favorite butterflies to play
chasing dreams, i suppose, who knows
what they really know and
feel, i was once a child myself, perhaps i have the right to guess
what simple wants they have,
freedom, but i can tell you about something else,
their breakfast today is only brown sugar and rice,
and they have not taken their baths in the river because
the water is dirty, and there is no water system in the hills,
primitive, and still undeveloped, the grasses are not cut
tall and wild, and the coconut trees are not bearing much fruits,
there is drought, and the tenants do not have a good harvest
of their upland rice and there are rats infesting the rice fields,
it rains so hard, the road is slippery and we all have to walk slowly
to keep themselves warm, the men drink wine and smoke
the women do not weave mats anymore, they're sold cheap
and they are so disappointed with what they are getting
sugar is a precious commodity here, no coffee,
salt is expensive, salted fish is a luxury,
bread is like gold here and children do not know what is bread all about
cookies do not exist here
stone age, this is stone age in the midst of an expanding world
the children here are left out
i stare at them as they throw stones at play,
dirt and foul smell, but on the other hand i look at the pictures
that i took on that day
less the smell, less the dirt on their faces,
they are so beautiful, and the mountains are still hopeful.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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