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Writing is like

One that I had in a dream
I was a bird flying high
Smooth air on my wings
Then I suddenly
Fell down
I did not experience any
Cut on any of my wings
They simply stopped flapping
And the air slipped
Sucked by some
Monster in space

It is like writing
I fall down today
From the heights of
Inspiration and
My mind simply
Breaks down
No thought
No dictation
From up there

Every word is sucked
Into nothingness

And all the boredom
That I have confessed to you
Once twice and always
Such that
You believe that I am
Simply inventing things
For attention,

All these are true.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Free

Fly like a bird for you are free.
Soar high because that is where you will be going.

For although you are still at the ground your wings will get you higher.
So don't be afraid to take your very first steps and fly out and experience a new world.

You will face obstacles but that is how life works but just keep flapping your wings until you are high.
High above the clouds where the amazing things are.

poem by Christina J. Williams
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Do not expect too much

This is it, this is poetry
Written by this man
He is looking by his window
To the world like a little boy
Still wondering, scribbling
Some figures of man and
Superman, putting them wings
Imagining that soon they will fly,
Do not expect too much
I myself do not have wings
I do not promise you any
I am simply writing the view
The green ricefields I do not
Have rice for you to cook I do
Not have water for you to drink
I have these words, only you
Can convert them to steamed
Rice to cakes to bacons to ham
To fish to sea to clouds to sun
Or simply coffee for you to sip
When you still hunger for breakfast.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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All Things Are Simply Possible, Just By God's Saving Grace!

I aimed to accomplish one thing,
But turned to be yet another;
I thought I was unfit in life,
But God brought me out of all strife.
All things are simply possible,
Just by God's saving grace!

I travelled by a road I chose;
It led me to an alien place;
I thought I had a blunder done;
God gave me timely rain and sun!
All things are simply possible,
Just by God's saving grace!

I felt awful and depressed oft,
And life had turned quite meaningless;
To God, I cried in despair, ‘Lord! '
My strength returned reading His Word!
All things are simply possible,
Just by God's saving grace!

I saw the modern world of man,
Afilled by sin and wickedness;
I felt like asking God, ‘But why? '
Hope filled my heart anew from sky!
All things are simply possible,
Just by God's saving grace!

I found all earthly life futile,
And wished from heart to earlier die!
But God renewed my spirits high,
And made my earthly stay worthwhile!
All things are simply possible,
But by God's saving grace!

Copyright by Dr John Celes 17=11-2012

poem by John Celes
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Whose Dream Is This Anyway?

Every day I walk the plank of this pirate ship
and hear voices saying
'Just keep going, take the risk.'
Risk? There is no risk on ships
with planks out over the sea.

What you have there is death and certainty.
'Other voices say, 'What are you doing?
Come back off that plank! '

I say 'Sure.
If I do, the pirates will simply
take their swords and run me through;

saber-death or drown in the sea
look to be the choices for me.
except:
I could get to the edge of the plank
open my wings and soar
leaving them all behind in astonishment.

Yeah, that's what I can do.

Now that is the beauty of a dream-
if you know what you are doing-

you can take control of your own dreams
and make things happen in the real world
by doing so.

So if the monster chases you in your dream
turn right around and face the monster
and say
'Whose dream is this anyway? '

Poof the monster is gone.

Try it some time
you'll see.

It's your dream
isn't it?

Pop some monster;
you feel better for it.
and it just might change your waking life too.

poem by Lonnie Hicks
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When I Wake This Morning

last night i had
a single pill of 'x'
you know what
it is
do not make any
pretensions
it did not obstruct
a word
it slipped right though
smooth and easy
and then
the usual things happen
i am into this garden
they call Eden
and there is this Eve
and the apple
and of course the snake
i still doubt whether
i was God or
i was simply
the sinful Adam

when i wake up this
morning
my body was as heavy
as the Titanic
which as you well know
sank.
my mouth is sewed
with invisible thread
and i can feel
the pain in my lips
my teeth are imprisoned
soldiers
i want to eat some of
my words for
breakfast
but i cannot.

you see? this happens
sometimes
and so what we can do
is simply sit on one
of the chairs drenched
by last night's rain
at the porch
and just be silent.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Flying Away?

i like to see the image of a lone bird flying away from me
two steady wings carrying a very light body of blue feathers
a kingfisher flying away against the morning sun
moving nowhere getting farther until it becomes a blue dot
dissolving in the distance that your eyes can no longer see

i sometimes like to think i am that bird flying away
from where i am
because this place is sad and cruel
i like to fly away
to leave everything behind me and then simply forget
and make new beginnings
as easy as that

sometimes however i ask myself:
where shall i go?
nowhere?
just nowhere?
where is nowhere?

just fly away and go
and leave and

then what?
i ask myself these real questions
calling for rational answers
begging
that i be reasonable enough with my life
and the life of others
who also depend
on me

it is not an easy stuff,
just flying away to nowhere and destruct
everything i build here:
a nest, an odor of familiarity,
a sense of home
(though sad and cruel)
a name for myself
a reputation
a family history
an ancestral domain

shall i go then and be foolish?

i am not a bird, i am a man
that is a very serious existence apart from those feathery wishes and dreams
with responsibilities, i have no wings just arms, i have no feathers
but this body

i am not just a bird, i have a soul
and so i decided to stay

with you.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Feelings...

actually we are falling
like rain
but the difference is that
we fall
upward
because we are transcendental
creatures
who know the cycles of light
and darkness

who know that life is a ring
there is no end to this falling
and so we
simply stay

there is no floor
we only dream of skies

no ceiling
we only have space beyond

and this pretty makes all interesting
together
we are actually floating in this fall
and so we simply feel
that we are watching things around
us
we invent television and
we sit by the sofa
and watch

there is no falling after all
we are here
dots on earth taken by its spins and
revolutions

we are like stones now
stable on the sand...

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Simply Alone

Simply alone as an angel cries
Becoming empty as all her
Hope hides
Simply alone she sits by a window
Bearing wishes of death to Un-fold
Hope lies
  
Simply alone with out her own home
Beside a story of healing worry
Simply alone and simply Un-known
Hope cries
Simply because she is simply alone
Hope hides hope lies hope cries does hope die?
Or does hope again try?

poem by Susan Covington
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Missing Link

So there you are
The missing link of my life

I was having something
Blank in my mind

And things do not fit
Nothing fits to this “”it”

A square pig
In a hole,
A fish on a hill
A chicken on the sea
A snail in the city
A fan on the freezer

Me to nowhere
You somewhere

For a time I was walking
Without a direction
Without anything in my mind

Things simply do not fit
And there you are
Standing not looking also for
Something specific

And we found ourselves
We fit
We simply talk without bumps
In our throats
We simply enjoy each other’s company
You laugh at my jokes
And I like the way you talk

We fit, now we must live together
I am the thread to your needle’s eye

We fit, you and I

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Latest Fear Of Silence

someday you may ask
'how come you have always something to say? '
as though you have always wished
that for a moment
i should have been silent

or say nothing about this world anymore
about you
about the coldness of your arm
and mine

' i have always something to say to this world'

in my silence that i have compromised with you
i could have said
that deep within my soul
there is a place without trees and shores
there are no leaves
that fall and cover my rugged land
no breeze to appease
my emptied wells

or i could have simply told you
that silence can kill me
that without the noise and my voice
i could have already been lost
in the void
that my only link to this world is a word
so many of them
and they wall me out
from the eternal threat of
an empty space
a meaningless vacuum
that has sucked many souls
into oblivion

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Strange Bird

Strange bird
By: jimmy buffett, jay oliver
1989
Half fast and seldom seen
He dont blip the radar screen
On the deck below the dune
Under the commanders moon
Strange bird from a different nest
Flying low not like all of the rest
God only knows where the strange bird goes when hes flying
Everybodys trying to find him
But they dont know where to start
The ornithologist lady says that he has wings on his heart
Chorus:
Strange bird from a different nest
Flying low not like all of the rest
If you cant catch him you cant name him
If you cant see him you cant claim him
Stay on the ground or he will shoot you down
Wings on his heart, hes a strange bird
Frequent flyer, seldom seen
High above the caribbean
In my day Ive met a few but hes the strangest bird thats true
Chorus:
Strange bird from a different nest
Flying low not like all of the rest
If you cant catch him you cant name him
If you cant see him you cant claim him
Stay on the ground or he will shoot you down
Wings on his heart, hes a strange bird
But hes in love with the lady of the waters
And she lives somewhere up around cheauxvan
Hes gonna circle high above her runway of love
Until she gives him her permission to land
Chorus:
Strange bird from a different nest
Flying low not like all of the rest
If you cant catch him you cant name him
If you cant see him you cant claim him
Stay on the ground or he will shoot you down
Wings on his heart, hes a strange bird
Watch out girl, hes a strange bird
Strange bird flying low
cross the gulf of mexico
Strange bird not like all the rest
Watch out girl hes a strange bird
Shoot you down, hes a strange bird
Its a bird, its a plane, its a strange bird

song performed by by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Free Butterfly

The butterfly is free. It glides with the breeze gently. It looks as if it simply floats in the air. The wings barely move an inch. The butterfly is peaceful, beautiful, and magical. Its simply the sign of happiness.

poem by Pagan Eisenhauer
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What's in a Name?

My friend, Olly Dee, is a funny old card,
He could have been so many things,
A builder, an architect, surgeon, a cop,
A soldier, a pilot with wings;
In fact, he did nothing at all with his life,
Not one little thing did he do,
He spent all his time meditating at large,
And blaming his mother, at Loo.

Someone once said: - 'What's in a name? '
It's simply a patent disguise -
But Oll has a brother, who's simply a Fred,
Who just won the Nobel Prize.
One time, long ago, Olly filled out a form
To prove that he really was there,
A letter came, postmarked the palace at dawn
To say that they'd made him a 'Sir'.

He never could face writing in for a job,
Or sitting his licence to drive,
His tax is a mess, and he's changed his address
Seven times before agents arrive.
There's never enough of a space on the page
When it's - 'Sign - or risk paying a fee, '
For Oliver Cavendish Norton FitzWalter
John Lindisfarne Ackerman Dee.

8 May 2008

poem by David Lewis Paget
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Flight

When the sacred kingfisher is flying,
It is frantically flapping its wings to
The sand of the sea,

In a form of a deep curve as a rainbow.

Its flight is most like a deep, steady wing beat
To fly higher and higher.
Its wing seemingly bites the air.
So skilled at flying
Is the sacred kingfisher
And so naturally suited to the sky

That it can frantically flap its wings to
The sand of the sea.

In a form of a deep curve as a rainbow.

From that deep curve comes its screaming
And the white bleeding rain,
While the bird is frantically flapping its wings to
The sea water
To eat its silent prey

And to become a broken winged bird,
That cannot fly
Any longer.

poem by Marieta Maglas
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Ground reaity

The eagle

could fly

very high;

was pompous

too of his fly.

once his friends thought a fun

boosted the bird to touch the sun

boasted bird took the challenge

started flying highest range

finally burnt his wings

fell like a

fling.

poem by S.D. Tiwari
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Thinking Process..

i go back to the pages
and i know i am shocking perhaps to all of you
having written much on some things that
perhaps i have not thought of so well...
but they are there and they confront me
that i own them and i feel a little bit awkward
when and how have i written these
matters of the heart
and soul and affection and
(well,) alienation and
stressful situations, not counting
the reality of depressing
expressions in the form of
concealed metaphoric devices,
at any rate, i accept this kind of ability to
just be writing for no purpose, except to express,
for simply writing what i must say
without so much thinking that in the future
i may regret what
ought not to be written...
well, this is it, this is life, and this is what is it
all about...a river simply flowing to the sea

what more? what should it be?

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Actually Some Poems Are Not Meant To Be Understood

forgive me but my poems are not meant to be understood
they are simply meant to be felt
like silk to your hands
just let the feeling slide and it is complete

it is just like a description of something that suddenly passed
you think it is a ghost but it is not
it is just the hush of a wind and it is not driving any point at all

if it refreshes you without thinking of anything at all
and gives you a certain lightness
like you have wings yourself
then the poem has become a poem

it is not meant to be an idea just something
magical and please do not hold it
it is simply meant
to pass and not stay like the wind and the river and
my soul

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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On My 10thousandth Poem

when i reach that number
it is because of the days that bore
it is because of the pain that does not cease
or he joys that jump
the bliss that soars in the sky
like a bird untiring about the flapping of its wings
that seagull that dives like an odd ball
to the surface of the sea
or that eagle that keeps its sharp gaze
on the tiny prey
i am lost
but i know how to find myself in the words
of the nth poem
it is the flow of the river
which does not just end at the sea
it is the waves that keep on going and reaching
far away
it is the story that meets a story and tells a story
upon another story
it is the desert sand, the Bedouin
and his princess
it is the oasis that source of life
these poems or whatever you call it
when you are angry because
they are not
but whatever that is
i am a consciousness
and also a trance
i am speaking i am listening
i am myself i am not myself
i a confusion and a certainty
now you must understand that there is nothing to understand
there is only the emotion
that goes on and on and one
simply because i remain alive
simply because i decide to keep this life
moving upon itself
not on another man's decision
not mine alone
not mine but upon itself a being on itself...

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Wonderful Christmastime

The moon is right
The spirits up
Were here tonight
And thats enough
Simply having a wonderful christmastime
Simply having a wonderful christmastime
The partys on
The feelins here
That only comes
This time of year
Simply having a wonderful christmastime
Simply having a wonderful christmastime
The choir of children sing their song
Ding dong, ding dong
Ding dong, ding ohhhh
Ohhhhhhh
Simply having a wonderful christmastime
Simply having a wonderful christmastime
The word is out
About the town
To lift a glass
Ahhh dont look down
Simply having a wonderful christmastime
Simply having a wonderful christmastime
The choir of children sing their song
They practiced all year long
Ding dong, ding dong
Ding dong, ding dong
Ding dong, ding dong
The partys on
The spirits up
Were here tonight
And thats enough
Simply having a wonderful christmastime
Simply having a wonderful christmastime
The moon is right
The spirits up
Were here tonight
And thats enough
Simply having a wonderful christmastime
Simply having a wonderful christmastime
Simply having a wonderful christmastime
Simply having a wonderful christmastime
Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh
Christmastime

song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wonderful Christmas

The moon is right
The spirits up
We're here tonight
And that's enough
Simply having a wonderful christmastime
Simply having a wonderful christmastime
The party's on
The feelin's here
That only comes
This time of year
Simply having a wonderful christmastime
Simply having a wonderful christmastime
The choir of children sing their song
Ding dong, ding dong
Ding dong, ding Ohhhh
Ohhhhhhh
Simply having a wonderful christmastime
Simply having a wonderful christmastime
The word is out
About the town
To lift a glass
Ahhh don't look down
Simply having a wonderful christmastime
Simply having a wonderful christmastime
The choir of children sing their song
They practiced all year long
Ding dong, ding dong
Ding dong, ding dong
Ding dong, ding dong
The party's on
The spirits up
We're here tonight
And that's enough
Simply having a wonderful christmastime
Simply having a wonderful christmastime
The moon is right
The spirits up
We're here tonight
And that's enough
Simply having a wonderful christmastime
Simply having a wonderful christmastime
Simply having a wonderful christmastime
Simply having a wonderful christmastime
Ohhhhhhhhh
Christmastime

song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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