When They Made Love Inside That Cramped Room...
when they made love
that evening
they heard the sounds of
the jungle: tiger mating
birds on love calls
under the trees
above some
elephants screaming
with joy
snakes hissing upon
each body
rubbing rubbers
inside their ears
sounds of new winds
fresh upon each leaf
on the forest trees.....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
Notes From Mambukal
i am learning
from the towering trees
i have seen the right of birds
to have a home
the co-existence of bats and
snakes
the essence of ripe fruits
that must remain on the ground
until they are rotten
when birds leave the seeds
after consuming all pulp
and flesh
the songs of birds
love calls
the hisses of snakes
the chants of earthworms
it was a night
when i dip my body to that hot spring
with healthy sulfur breaths
from volcanic
woman
when i make my self still
listening
always listening
and simply feeling what is warm
and tender
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Showing her teeth pearls!
I heard some wonderful sounds
floating through the air into my ears;
Is it her anklets made of fine sounds....!
Is it her bangles made such sounds..!
Or is it the sounds of dropped coins;
I am puzzled and turned around,
I could not find anybody,
Suddenly there appeared a beautiful girl,
She came giggling with a broad smile,
Showing her teeth pearls!
poem by V.K. Kanniappan
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3 O'clock In The Morning
the rain stopped
and i have just awakened from a deep sleep
it was earlier than usual
and what i heard are the raindrops leaving the last words of their lives
a tapping of the roof
a heave of a sigh
some monotonous sounds of the waves of the shore
not far from where i am writing
the last whispers of the winds from the trees about to shed their last leaves
the sounds of wild ducks leaving knowing that another storm is coming
i think of you
i think of your search of yourself
i think of myself
how i was once broken and destroyed by the changes of the winds
how i picked up the pieces like some leaves scattered in the forest
beyond repair, i write some memories.
weary, i imagine some moments that i may have been at rest with myself.
i think of you. I think about when the rain shall stop forever.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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“Sweet Sounds of Joy”
Sounds of joy, sounds of joy
Oh how I love to hear sweet sounds
Of joy
Sounds of joy, sounds of joy
Oh how I love to hear momma sing
In her morning voice
Sounds of joy, sounds of joy
Oh how I love to be in the presence
Of these sounds of joy
Sounds of joy, sounds of joy
Oh how I love sweet sounds of joy
poem by Va Rockeya Foy
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The Scars Of Lovers....
a sharp sword
sharpens itself against
another sword
metal to metal
to the sound of the gritting teeth
one wants to imagine
an ecstasy of
a wound
blood dropping from
a slit on the
hand
there is none here
for this is but an affair
of a sword to another sword
thinking that
there is no war but love
in the air
sweet sounds of birds
sex moans and
calls for a mating
of the season
there is this hate that hides
inside the chest
where there is no option but
to sleep with
the one that never tickles you
not a bit
where love is feigned and
subdued
by need by survival by
pretenses
that man understands it
one can see the scars
not the stars......
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Trees are more like FOWLS,
Trees are more like FOWL'S,
Trees are more like FOWL'S,
The Birds that EMERGED is greater than 40's and 80's,
This Historic moment is like a TIGER,
Taking this THOUGHT,
There is the NEW EMERGING of FOWLS,
Imagine of another New Composure maybe another MISSION completed for these BIRDS,
The Birds will flow in all COLOUR'S since the love of God hast no STATUS.
poem by Maxim Muyu
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The Place Of My Dreams
Nobody ever walked this path before
-before trees grew here nearly touching the sky,
I am alone safely inside a world of my own-
A world where only deer roam and birds fly about-
Cardinals, robins and sometimes
I believed I saw angels-
Angels singing in harmony with bird songs-
The wind would rustle the leaves upon the trees and
In the early summertime, cicadas would sing incessantly-
Incessantly and melodiously-
Only one day I heard a different sound-
The sounds of footsteps and children screaming,
Following closely behind me-
I would hide behind a tall oak tree and I would almost weep as
My solitude has been interrupted and
I am no longer safe as my private world had been invaded-
Nobody ever walked this path before until this day and
My dream has been transformed to a nightmare-
I am not safe in a world destroyed by the presence of strangers-
Cardinals, robins and cicadas are my friends and
Other people are my enemies whom I do not trust-
Following in my footsteps and trying to make eye contact,
To read the verses of the songs my mind composes?
I know I have seen angels and heard them singing, and
Birds chanting along with the gentle winds
Rustling the leaves upon the trees-
But now other people have discovered the path,
upon which I have walked alone,
And my secure space has become a public tenement-
I once believed nobody ever walked this path before,
This path to which I could escape reality and lose myself inside
The magnificent world of my delusions-now they have come to take me away and
To lock me inside this prison which I cannot escape?
I cannot hear the angels singing here and birds are seemingly far away-
Here I have lost myself inside my own world,
one so different and so frightening?
There are people here, so close to me, yet I feel so alone-
Although alone in a dangerous way- I am singing my own song,
Hoping that the angels can hear me and one day I shall be back in unison with nature,
Far away from intruders and singing in harmony with nightingales –
And once again, alone safely,
as I shall have abandoned the nightmare of reality,
Touching the sky in my dreams, dancing with angels as I listen to the cicadas chanting
Happily as they are lost inside the world of their fantasies, just as I wish to be…
poem by Claudia Krizay
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Forever Autumn
The summer sun is fading
As the year grows old
And darker days are drawing near.
The winter winds will be much colder
Now you're not here.
I watch the birds fly south across the autumn sky
And one by one they disappear.
I wish that I was flying with them
Now you're not here.
Like the sun through the trees you came to love me
Like a leaf on a breeze you blew away.
Through autumns golden gown we used to kick our way
You always loved this time of year.
Those fallen leaves lay undisturbed now
Cause you're not here.
Cause you're not here.
Cause you're not here.
Like the sun through the trees you came to love me.
Like a leaf on a breeze you blew away.
A gentle rain pours softly on my weary eyes.
As if to hide a lonely tear.
My life will be forever autumn
Cause you're not here.
Cause you're not here.
Cause you're not here.
song performed by by Moody Blues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Boring Day
as he opens the window
there is only the shadow of leaves on the trees
on a gray background
it is twilight, midway between night and day
sounds of a cold wind from the forest
the rooster crows and some chirping birds
you sit and gaze through the window
light comes in
this happens everyday and there is nothing significant
after 49 years, and this time a hole is bored inside your heart
you fear that love is gone.
that the birds do not chirp musical notes
the wind much colder now and you shiver
light seeps in trickles like rain on your wrinkled skin
it is the same morning, and it will be same mornings all over again.
you do not move. You let time go and your hands are frozen.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Love You Out Loud
I sit in my living room thinking of you
And the feelings I fear are coming true
And everything about you is wrong I know it
But I still taste you on my tongue
And I still breathe you in my lungs
And I wish I could stop breaking down
Wish I could love you out loud
Wish I could love you out loud
But I'll just keep it to myself
Wish I could hear how it sounds
To be with you and no one else
Don't make a sound
Don't tell a soul
It's 7:00am and I just want to call you
And tell you I'm falling in love
But, there's someone else inside these four walls
If she smells you on my skin
I can't let her know where I've been
I wish I could be with you now
Wish I could love you out loud
Wish I could love you out loud
But I'll just keep it to myself
Wish I could hear how it sounds
To be with you and no one else
Wish I could love you out loud
Because I'm under your spell
Wish I could tell the whole world
But I'll just keep it to myself
Don't make a sound
Don't tell a soul
Don't tell them anything
And I won't let you go
Don't say a word
Don't tell a soul
And I shiver at the thought of you
I can't believe that you love me too
And we quiver when we touch
I can't believe I love you so much
And I hate it when you walk away
I know we can't go on this way
But there's magic when we touch
I can't believe I love you so much
Wish I could love you out loud
Wish I could hear how it sounds
Wish I could love you out loud
Wish I could hear how it sounds
Wish I could love you out loud
But I'll just keep it to myself
Wish I could hear how it sounds
To be with you and no one else
Wish I could love you out loud
Because I'm under your spell
Wish I could tell the whole world
But I'll just keep it to myself
Don't make a sound
Don't tell a soul
Don't tell them anything
And I won't let you go
Wish I could love you out loud
But I'll just keep it to myself
Wish I could hear how it sounds
To be with you and no one else
Wish I could love you out loud
Because I'm under your spell
Wish I could tell the whole world
But I'll just keep it to myself
Wish I could love you out loud
Wish I could hear how it sounds
Wish I could love you out loud
Wish I could hear how it sounds
Wish I could love you out loud
song performed by by Meat Loaf
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Early Morning In A Rural Landscape
it is still dark
the haze of the cold outlines
the big body of the mountain far from me
the winds are colder here
and the sounds are a mixture of
sparrows chirping
crows on their love calls
cockatoos on their murmurs
this wilderness
we have chosen for this moment
soon after the passing of these hours
summer winds
hot and wild
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I Am Imitating You
.... let me flatter a friend (or is she.... a foe?)
....i am imitating him. Oh i want a color....red?
or......blue? I'll take something else..........green?
how about trees? apple trees for a background.
how about sighs? for some sounds.
how about... yes.....moans.... lots of moans.....
sex? could you?
.....you are bored and old and.....dying? ....are you?
how about cheese? lots of cheese
oh i love fumodoro tomatoes? lots of sauce.
i love being with you.
I love doing things with you inside the room.
Let me have you.
Please stay.
I still have lots of cheese, and tomatoes,
and apple trees, and reds and greens, and...
sighs.....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Music Of Love 2
The music of love
is everywhere
as spring rears its head.
Flowers start to bud;
birds in the trees
start to sing their mating call.
The world wakens every morn
to the music of love
as it sings it through the trees
inviting everything to join in
and sing its chorus strong.
21 February 2008
poem by David Harris
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Industrialization
an early morning treat
to the chirping sounds of the birds
the engines arrive in the form of the bus
the tractors and the caterpillars
the birds fly away carrying their songs
the chirping sounds fade
the buzz of the day is in the machine
paving, drilling, cementing, screaming.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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0023 Angel, Butterfly, Poem
Glance, as you hurry home from work,
through this lighted window where
a man taps at his computer
he might be writing anything,
no-one asked him to write this poem
which he does not yet know himself
it makes as much difference
to the world as the wing-beat
of a single butterfly
deep in the heart of a distant jungle
but for those few intrepid
explorers of the jungles of the mind
who read it
with indrawn breath
as beautiful as an unknown
species of butterfly
flaunting its vivid wings
in a rare shaft of sunlight
timed to their visit
through the canopy of trees
high above the living jungle
that balances, without telling, the whole planet -
earth, trees, rain, sunlight, leaf-fresh air,
space; and the song of birds
angel; butterfly; poem;
winged in beauty
thus disguised
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Why Did You Burn That Boat?
try living in an island
just you and the coconut trees
hear the sounds of birds
migrating
sounds of flocks
fading in a distance
what is left is the
song of this river
the changing hues of the skies
the coldness at night
stories that you repeatedly
tell upon yourself
there is a boat that is ready for your exit
towards the city
what did you burn it?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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An Altercation
when i step there
for the first time i know
the difference between
silence and
shutting up, that soundless scream
that only your ears
can hear and people wonder
what is happening inside
your tiny world
where you always live and
there is no
specific address
as the streets wind up to nowhere
the world is full of noise
and as you see you imagine people
as like you
all in the flurry of the winds
of disgust
and then i ask you to see the
light at the post
it is 6: 30 in the evening
and lights begin
to make a claim of their
own islands
amidst the crowd of
passers-by
i ask you once again
to listen to the clicking of the
watch inside your
heart
and try to erase the
imagined scream
i agree it is an evening
loveless in itself
there is only you
and no one else
for i am but a stone to you
in your garden
of sands
i urge you to listen
carefully and close your eyes
and open them
once again
searching for the red
color of the
longing
it is deep into the night
when trees are but
shadows
and the winds create
a stir of
falling leaves
those that last only
for the night
and i assure you
there is nothing
here but leaves
yes, leaves and
leaves
softly falling to the grass
carried by the
sounds of the flurry
of invisible wings
and i am telling you
it could be
hope dressed
like maple.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Emptiness Is Both An Illusion And An Irony
emptiness is always an illusion
which carries with it an irony.
when i look at it, as its content shows,
it has nothing
bare hands, opening fingers,
an empty transparent ball, it can
tell your future, it can dig your
past,
thinking that it is spacious, i went
inside it, pierce myself though it
only to find that that are so many
crowding elements in there and they
are choking me and you who is looking
outside it, thinks that nothing is happening
but then the struggle is horrible, quick
and even deadly, so many hang themselves in
empty air, and lose their lives, because
you cannot see the body of breathing,
when you learn to live with it however,
you become full, emptiness is its irony,
its antithesis, for how can you ever be full
if you have never known how to empty yourself?
the face of emptiness is a mist, and you touch
it, you will hold a forest, so many black birds,
myriad exotic orchids, so many blending sounds of
trees screaming, of creeks flowing of waterfalls
cascading that you can relate to the locks of
your hair and the hairs of your armpits,
inside it is too personal to be told, outside it
are so many denials with the faces of the people
that you have loved before, and then you decide
to stay at a distance, you are like a tree
dark as a shadow, counting the hours
when the sun finally fades away.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Companion On The Impossible...
on finished paths
i shy away, the stones there look the same
but no one is complaining
and all attempts to find new ones
seem to be nothing but a respect for
the trivial,
i am faced with forest trees
those that do not know how a man looks like
or how a woman tastes
all they know are the winds from the sea
and the clouds from across the islands of despair
i do not have a cutter on my hand
and i only have my fingers and tongue
i squat under the sun and begin my work
there is so much to cut and clean
been here for years and there is nothing much
that changed
the trees have grown so tall and cannot even see me
the grasses sheltered more snakes and have their party
i am alone with nothing but hope....
and then you come.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Lover's Chronicles (Part Two)
no, not yet! take my hand, let us
walk towards the setting sun. the
mountains seem closer, the trees
whisper and wait. for the night
brings its own sounds, a new and
deeper closeness, breaking down
the barriers of the need for concepts.
open your hands, close your eyes, listen,
then let go! of every image you have
of self, of want, of need... the bird
leaves the nest and never looks back,
no longer clinging to a world made of
straw...
i will love you, first with stillness,
then with sounds heard for the first time.
i will bring you taste, richness and raw.
i will bring you healing, that searches
your unnamed sorrows for joy. i will listen
to your heart, and hear. i want to know
you before we touch... i want to touch
you, and know you more!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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