En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Why Do You Think That I Am Ambitious?

you met me a long time ago,
20 years ago, i counted the passing years
i did not know what your impression of me
was.

when our paths met a few days ago
you wrote me a letter
telling me that i am an ambitious man

there is nothing wrong with ambition
it is a positive trait
to go forward in life

but i am not really ambitious
i live a very simple life

not that kind that Basho lived when he was once here
on this very place of a simple dwelling
a leaking roof where drops of rain serve as count
for the rhythm of
a poem

banana leaves to five space for something green
a perfectly opened window the one that does not close even at night
because we all want to see the hills and trees
the landscape of flowers and grass

we even want to take the roof out
so we can see all the stars.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Walked Last Night In A District I Lived In For Almost Twenty Years

I WALKED LAST NIGHT IN A DISTRICT I LIVED IN FOR ALMOST TWENTY YEARS

I walked last night in a district I lived in for almost twenty years
I came back after being away for a time
To visit an old and ailing friend
The streets were empty and lonely as they often were then-
I thought for the first time I understood how lonely the district itself is-
‘A lonely district’
I wondered how I managed to live there all those years
And how anyone still manages to live there-
I looked up at the sky and wrote in my mind a small poem of a kind I wrote many of in my years there
I remembered teachers and friends who had lived there
No longer of this district or any district on earth
I wondered how life goes and how from so many years so much life has been lived without having any place in my memory
I felt as empty inside as the district without
I did not have to wait long for the bus
And relieved inside it I put my heart to home
So many years had been lived there
I remembered taking my small children to the playground there
Now they thank G-d have children of their own
Oh the years go by and the life we have lived in them largely dies
Forever to be unknown again-
I put my heart and mind in a different direction
And began to do what I always do – not think of the district again
Life is this mystery and question we live through and never wholly possess even as we are experiencing it
How long before all will be gone for me
Including the district I live in now?

poem by Shalom Freedman
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She Needs Years To Make A Poem

i am not surprised with what she just said
to make a poem of her life
she needs years and years
perhaps a hundred years
if need be to make the best poem
of her life

her words are days and days
her stanzas her dwelling place
her commas and punctuations
her naps and long hours of sleep
her poem is her life

she lives inside it
she breathes every word every letter
and when she reads it when it is finished
she speaks her last, hounding silence

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Village

When a new life turns towards you
And the night becomes a bay
We shall remain forever
Everyone who meets his way
Oh, our love is like the flowers
The rain and the sea and the hours
Oh, our love is like the flowers
The rain and the sea and the hours
When the rain falls to the sea
Theyll be waiting for you and for me
And the sky reflects our image
Trying to sleep right through our lives
Oh, our love is like the earth
The sun and the trees and the birth
Oh, our love is like the earth
The sun and the trees and the birth
I am still here two days later
Same place, same time
And Im stuck here two years too long
Same place, the wrong time
Oh, our love is like the flowers
The rain and the sea and the hours
Oh, our love is like the flowers
The sun and the sea and the hours
Their love died three years ago
Spoken words I cannot show

song performed by by New Order
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Promised You That We Make Love At Dawn

but then there is this poem
inside my heart
and it wants to be written
at dawn

and so i promised you
another dawn
tomorrow

you perfectly understand
my situation
it is not simple. it is complicated.
i make it complicated.

you look at it simple enough.
lack of love for you.
devotion to poetry.

and sooner, you declare a war.
an end. you write a letter telling about
the word
goodbye.

i understand it too perfectly.
we have two parting worlds now.
floating stars looking for each nest
in some other space.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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She Hears The Storm

There was a time in former years-
While my roof-tree was his-
When I should have been distressed by fears
At such a night as this!

I should have murmured anxiously,
'The prickling rain strikes cold;
His road is bare of hedge or tree,
And he is getting old.'

But now the fitful chimney-roar,
The drone of Thorncombe trees,
The Froom in flood upon the moor,
The mud of Mellstock Leaze,

The candle slanting sooty-wick'd,
The thuds upon the thatch,
The eaves drops on the window flicked,
The clanking garden-hatch,

And what they mean to wayfarers,
I scarcely heed or mind;
He has won that storm-tight roof of hers
Which Earth grants all her kind.

poem by Thomas Hardy
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She Hears the Storm

There was a time in former years--
While my roof-tree was his--
When I should have been distressed by fears
At such a night as this!

I should have murmured anxiously,
'The prickling rain strikes cold;
His road is bare of hedge or tree,
And he is getting old.'

But now the fitful chimney-roar,
The drone of Thorncombe trees,
The Froom in flood upon the moor,
The mud of Mellstock Leaze,

The candle slanting sooty-wick'd,
The thuds upon the thatch,
The eaves drops on the window flicked,
The clanking garden-hatch,

And what they mean to wayfarers,
I scarcely heed or mind;
He has won that storm-tight roof of hers
Which Earth grants all her kind.

poem by Thomas Hardy
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Up On The Roof

When this old world starts a getting me down
And people are just too much for me to face
I climb way up to the top of the stairs
And all my cares just drift right into space
On the roof its peaceful as can be
And there the world below dont bother me
Oh no
So when I come home feeling tired and beat
I go up where the air is fresh and sweet
And get far away from the hustling crowd
And all that rat race noise down in the street
On the roof thats the only place I know
Where you just have to wish to make it so
Lets go up on the roof
At night the stars they put on a show for free
Yes they do
And darling you can share it all with me
Thats what I said I keep on telling you
That right smack dab in the middle of town
I found a paradise thats trouble free
And if this old world stars getting you down
Theres room enough for two up on the roof
At night the stars they put on a show for free yeah
And darling you can share it all with me
Thats what I said I keep on telling you
That right smack dab in the middle of town
I found a paradise thats trouble free
If this old world stars getting you down
Theres room enough for two up on the roof
Up on the roof oh yeah
Up on the roof

song performed by by Indigo Girls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There Is No Poem To Begin The Week With

THERE IS NO POEM TO BEGIN THE WEEK WITH

There is no poem to begin the week with
Emptiness is the beginning
I try to think
I try to listen to some internal rhythm
I write words down
My thoughts are simple and self- referential
The green- yellow light is there outside my window
The world is moving
Am I writing a poem or simply writing whatever sentences come into my mind?
I sometimes think poetry never stops being written within me
At other times I believe I am just ambitious and pretentious
Today this is the beginning
These lines these words
A poem to begin the week with?

poem by Shalom Freedman
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To The One I've Known When I Was Younger Then

there was something in the past
that burnt me

you were there innocent like someone who does not belong
to earth

you never had he wings of an angel or even that of a bird
the chicken in you shames me

you were telling stories that i had no right to listen
because they hurt me

you did not know, you were a stranger in my heart
i was shattered with the news

you laughed at me, that was my first shame,
i fetched water from the well, repaired the leaking roof of the

house of my father, did not talk to mama for days,
regretting that i was born

with a limp on my leg, a black mark on my face,
a weakness on my heels

i did not change anything, it would be impossible
i must live all my years, and you shut your mouth up

you know very well, that despite everything
i am human and i have the right to be here

and you went your way, and i avoided the cross-crossing of
our paths

i live my life well, and that is your shame.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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To Live In Language

it has been quite a time
and i question myself

why all these years i only
use

language?

my language has been a tree without leaves.

a house without roof, home for the rain.

a mountain without a trail, no man is coming for a visit.

all weeds, bushes,

i comfort myself sometimes with all the stars that hang
at night and despite the distance

i feel that i am so near them
and i may be crazy if i have to tell you that
the stars are talking to me

about heaven

that this place where i live now
is not what
is meant for me

and so i miss each night
finding romance and wisdom in its darkness

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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At The Beginning.........

created in a simple form with a simple purpose
to enjoy what is given and live in a simple ways
where each gift is given according to each one
needs

leaves, creator to walk in the paradise, where
everything is almost heaven to take, worries,
anxiety, pain, and suffering is not a experienced
to remember

gives all of what is life in the heaven's park, a will
that is freely given, the will to pro-creates, to
judge, to live and the authority to save all of what
is living

now is to die of what makes every living live a
time to go and see, believe, and forward, every
precious moment to feel the special time, the
remembrance of every start

a simple beginning, where everybody leaves every
soul to a simple return....

poem by Antonio Liao
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Horses In The City

they walk the horses home at night right by my
window they pull their carriages along busy city
streets it's from another time it's like a lullaby but i
don't think that i can sleep tonight so i count the
streetlights i count the stars i make a wish and
wonder where you are i wonder if i'll live long
enough to feel again help me 'cause i'm falling out
of grace i hang my head and hide my face i don't
know what it is i just feel out of place like horses in
the city i played the game i dropped the ball i lost
another friend i gained a future but i can't see
where the future ends i'd write a letter or write a
song but once again my voice just comes out
wrong i wonder if i'll live long enough to sing again
but they don't seem frightened as the cars go
speeding by so why am i so terrified to close my
eyes tonight i'm just afraid there's no time no time
this time they walk the horses home at night right
by my window they pull their carriages along busy
city streets i wonder if they'll live to run without the
reins again

song performed by by Nina Gordon from Tonight And The Rest Of My Life
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Up On The Roof

Up on the roof
Carole king (attributed to james taylor...)
When this old world starts a getting me down
And people are just too much for me to face
Ill climb way up to the top of the stairs
And all my cares just drift right into space
On the roof, its peaceful as can be
And there the world below dont bother me, no, no
So when I come home feeling tired and beat
Ill go up where the air is fresh and sweet
Ill get far away from the hustling crowd
And all the rat-race noise down in the street
On the roof, thats the only place I know
Look at the city, baby
Where you just have to wish to make it so
Lets go up on the roof
And at night the stars they put on a show for free
And, darling, you can share it all with me
Thats what I said
Keep on telling you
That right smack dab in the middle of town
I found a paradise thats troubleproof
And if this old world starts a getting you down
Theres room enough for two
Up on the roof...

song performed by by James Taylor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rain... Rain... Rain...!

Rain on tinned roof
Rain on concrete
Rain soaking into sands
Rain on soft earth
Rain on metal road
Rain on windscreen

Rain falling into the sea
Rain in the river

Rain on flowers
Rain on leaves
Rain under trees
Rain on hills

Rain on my skin…

Each with its own unique raga
Reverberates across the sky
On to the earth…

05aug2010
10.30hrs

poem by Indira Babbellapati
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In The Fields By The Sullane

In the fields by the Sullane that flows through Macroom
The wildflowers of Nature are now in full bloom
And the ageing migrant remembers today
The place where he lived in as a boy near a town far away.

His soul mate and the best friend he ever did know
His Aussie wife passed on a few years ago
Their grandchildren teenagers and time ticking on
And his best Seasons to the forever long gone.

To the young mind the far off hills always look green
And he left friends and family when he turned nineteen
The wanderlust in him for the big World out there
From the fields by the Sullane he would live elsewhere

Forty eight years out of Macroom in time quite a span
In this Southern Country a gray haired ageing man
The years telling on him the years never lie
Far from the Sullane he is destined to die.

To this Southern Land his best years he did give
And on his retirement pension he now has to live
The passing of time has left him walking slow
The one from the fields where Sullane waters flow.

poem by Francis Duggan
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Simple Kind Of Life

For a long time I was in love
Not only in love, I was obsessed
With a friendship that no one else could touch
It didnt work out, Im covered in shells
And all I wanted was a simple thing
A simple kind of life
And all I needed was a simple man
So I could be a wife
Im so ashamed, Ive been so mean
I dont know how it got to this point
Ooh I always was the one with all the love
But you came along, Im hunting you down
Like a sick domestic abuser lookin for a fight
And all I wanted was the simple things a simple kind of life
Oh if we met tomorrow for the very first time
Would it start all over again?
Would I try to make you mine?
I always thought Id be a mom
Sometimes I wish for a mistake
The longer that I wait the more selfish that I get
You seem like youd be a good dad
Now all the simple things are simply too complicated for my life
Howd I get so faithful to my freedom? a selfish kind of life
When all I ever wanted was the simple things a simple kind of life

song performed by by Gwen Stefani
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Leaking Roof

it is raining and here i am stuck
under the roof of a deserted house
the windows are open
nobody has come to close four windows
looking to the street like an insomniac,
the door is creaky like a sore throat
sounding like an incurable allergic sneeze
the crazy wind bangs it from time to time
and i do not mind the routine of noise
for a while a walk to and fro
like i am making a picket
observing the details of how a deserted house
can look like
or feel like: there seems to be a growling silence
abbreviating itself like a scream
cut short by my hands kept inside my pocket
i look up and see the leaking roof
making a rhythm of the dripping beat
of this poem.

i have nothing in mind, i am empty
and emptying still. I take in so much quantity
of silence, the weight of thoughts,
the silly purposeless probe
of what i am suppose to be and where i must be going
after this temporariness of loafing.

The rain stops. I am leaving.
The rhythm ceases.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Life Is So Beautiful

i step out as the door opens
the rain just stop its downpour
it is cold and the flowers are wet
and the grass glisten with drops
of water on its blade
the red rooster jumps from a tree
and flirts with a gray hen
i look to the sky and then
around the nearby hills
some birds fly towards the trees
a carabao grazes on the plain
deep within me i still want
more years, more years.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Spring rain

Spring rain
leaking through the roof
dripping from the wasps' nest.

Translated by Robert Hass

poem by Matsuo Basho
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I Like The Flow Of Language That Is So Natural

like falling rain
hitting a yam leaf,

round drops sliding
to the tendrils
of a vine

like water leaking
from a roof
saved by
a tin can

(remember poor
Basho's poem
while he was trying
to sleep
on a rainy day)

like the sound of lips making a kiss
of the ten fingers of the hands sliding
on thighs
down to the most sensitive
part of the human body

the vulva &
the glans
in mutuality of
accepting the rule
of desire

making the most out
of the last remaining
moments of
love.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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