You Are Always Electrifying
by the simple touch of your fingers
accidental intimacy like bumping on the street
and then quickly
parting ways like you don't know me and i do not know you
this pretense of strength
of white cranes suddenly in motion to the skies
as i clap my hands near the lushing cogon grass
oh they fly, oh they fly like white pebbles thrown to the sea
and then they are gone
i get electrified the moment i see you
(how can i ever tell you about
this secret that grows like a cancerous mole on my face?)
sizzling simply sizzling this feeling
of loving with the loved one not knowing anything
why flowers bloom and then die
why the leaves are falling
the white cranes in the rice fields this June
oh how they flap and fly like white pebbles thrown to the sea
perfect flight of silent love
my eyes are so delighted
my heart sings
it has never known how to scream
in silence i gaze at you and then you walk away
the street where you walk narrows down like a throat choking
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
Where The Sidewalk Ends
There is a place where the sidewalk ends
and before the street begins,
and there the grass grows soft and white,
and there the sun burns crimson bright,
and there the moon-bird rests from his flight
to cool in the peppermint wind.
Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
and the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
we shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow
and watch where the chalk-white arrows go
to the place where the sidewalk ends.
Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
and we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
for the children, they mark, and the children, they know,
the place where the sidewalk ends.
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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Velvet Shoes
Let us walk in the white snow
In a soundless space;
With footsteps quiet snd slow,
At a tranquil pace,
Under veils of white lace.
I shall go shod in silk,
And you in wool,
White as white cow's milk,
More beautiful
Than the breast of a gull.
We shall walk through the still town
In a windless peace;
We shall step upon white down,
Upon silver fleece,
Upon softer than these.
We shall walk in velvet shoes:
Wherever we go
Silence will fall like dews
On white silence below.
We shall walk in the snow.
poem by Elinor Morton Wylie
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Born Again
Your soul awake
beneath flowers white,
leaves gleam
in spring daylight
Birds in glee
flap their wings,
on the oak tree
the cuckoo sings
In grass green
violets bloom,
lifting my sorrow
and deep gloom
As I walk on the road
rough and steep,
your footsteps follow
I no more weep
poem by Dr Madhavi Grace
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Unfinished requiem
A bird is flying,
But I see only the flight in itself,
The movement.
I close my eyes and I can touch it,
I close my eyes and I can feel it.
The sound of motion hurts my ear.
It is a movement in itself,
And inside of me,
It is like a scream.
Someone shoots
The wing of the bird,
And I feel the movement of the air,
Generated by the falling bird.
I understand, in a second,
My love for you.
It is a relic of a feeling,
Slipped into that place from where the white bird
Collapsed,
Like the soul from the moment to eternity.
My thinking with your name on it
Remains, seemingly, attached to that place,
As a red stain on the blue sky,
Which needs to become white
Between the eyelids,
Only pain can be continuously crushed
And transformed into tears.
Between the saints,
Only God gathers perfect feelings,
Our feelings,
That makes us capable to reach Him.
poem by Marieta Maglas
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One Day You Dissolve Into Whiteness...
a white car waits for you
at the white side of the road
you are in your white suit
white socks and white shoes
you are white yourself
pale lips and snowy face
dusty eyes, clear tears
falling down to your cheeks
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Snow White Transparent
“Mirror… Mirror…”
Snow White stops
Looks down at
Her hand
Perfectly pale
Unblemished
Young and
Innocent
But damned
So damned
The wicked
Woman knew
Smiled and knew
“This is what you want”
Hands her the
Apple, poisoned
And red
No one knew
That Snow White
Knew, knew
The Truth
No one
Suspects her
Not Snow White
Pure, perfect
Snow White
“Mirror… Mirror…”
A brush bristles
Through her hair
Snow White looks
At her reflection
In the Mirror
Her mirror
The Wicked
Woman’s mirror
Snow White’s
Image smiles
Sadly at her
No hope left
“On the wall…”
He comes in
Princely in
His ways
Snow White does
Not look at
Him, not at him
Oh no
She cannot
She resents him
It is not apples
That are poisoned
But lips
“Snow…? ”
Without words
She undresses
Revealing glorious
Pale body
His to touch
Snow White
Watches his hands
Lower and closes
Her eyes
This is not love
Love is not—
Love is
“Seven little men…”
She falls into the
Dark corners of
Her mind
Where poison
Still chokes her
And there is
Nothing but
Death and silence
Oh, for the silence
Snow White turns
To look at The Mirror
And asks:
“Who is fairest of them all? ”
poem by Elizabeth Rebel
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88
i just had the number
88
inside my head.
it is not a grade
not money.
it is a mark of what i have done
on the other side
of my life.
i outlive 3,000
going on to 4,000
i clap my hands, give myself a toast
of red wine
when i had my first 1,000
you must remember my 1,000 cranes
paper cranes
paper poems on cranes and other creatures
like butterflies and birds and wind and dust
they have taken upon themselves the burden of flight
they promise me
and i have it now.
88, is my new number now.
i am inside an elevator and i am going up with you
to the nth floor.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The White Rose o' June
Air - 'Voice of Spring.'
Now the bricht sun, and the soft simmer showers,
Deck a' the woods and the gardens wi' flowers;
But bonny and sweet though the hale o' them be,
There's ane aboon a' that is dearest to me;
An' oh, that's the white rose, the white rose o' June,
An' may
he
that should wear it come back again sune!
It's no on my breast, nor yet in my hair,
That emblem dear I venture to wear;
But it blooms in my heart, and its white leaves I weet,
When alane in the gloamin' I wander to greet,
O'er the white rose, the white rose, the white rose o' June,
An' may
he
that should wear it come back again sune!
Mair fragrant and rich the red rose may be,
But there is nae spell to bind it to me;
But dear to my heart and to fond memorie,
Tho' scathed and tho' blighted the white rose may be.
O the white rose, the white rose, the white rose o' June,
O may
he
that should wear it come back again sune!
An' oh! may the true hearts thy perils who share,
Remember'd wi' tears, and remember'd in prayer,
Whom misfortune's rude blast has sent far awa',
Fair breezes bring back sune to cottage and ha';-
Then, O sing the white rose, the white rose o' June,
An' may
he
that should wear it wear Scotland's auld croun!
poem by Carolina Oliphant
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The Winter's Spring
The winter comes; I walk alone,
I want no bird to sing;
To those who keep their hearts their own
The winter is the spring.
No flowers to please--no bees to hum--
The coming spring's already come.
I never want the Christmas rose
To come before its time;
The seasons, each as God bestows,
Are simple and sublime.
I love to see the snowstorm hing;
'Tis but the winter garb of spring.
I never want the grass to bloom:
The snowstorm's best in white.
I love to see the tempest come
And love its piercing light.
The dazzled eyes that love to cling
O'er snow-white meadows sees the spring.
I love the snow, the crumpling snow
That hangs on everything,
It covers everything below
Like white dove's brooding wing,
A landscape to the aching sight,
A vast expanse of dazzling light.
It is the foliage of the woods
That winters bring--the dress,
White Easter of the year in bud,
That makes the winter Spring.
The frost and snow his posies bring,
Nature's white spurts of the spring.
poem by John Clare
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The Choice Is Within Us
out there
the fields are blooming with
red and yellow flowers
the grass greener
the skies so clear
with patches of
white and blue
why just sit there
and focus on the nails of
your feet?
why count the pebbles on
the muddy grounds?
why cry? when what our God
loves is the smile
of the child in us
when we are molded to his
happy face?
why reserve those tears of
sorrows
when we are meant to shout for
joy and
finally give in to those
happy tears
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Little White Rose
Little white rose that I loved, I loved,
Roisin ban, Roisin ban!
Fair my bud as the morning's dawn.
I kissed my beautiful flower to bloom,
My heart grew glad for its rich perfume—
Little white rose that I loved!
Little white rose that I loved grew red,
Roisin rua, Roisin rua!
Passionate tears I wept for you.
Love is more sweet than the world's fame—
I dream you back in my heart the same,
Little white rose that I loved!
Little white rose that I loved grew black,
Roisin duv, Roisin duv!
So I knew not the heart of you.
Lost in the world's alluring fire,
I cry in the night for my heart's desire,
Little white rose that I loved!
poem by Dora Sigerson Shorter
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My White Bicycle
My white bicycle, my white bicycle
Riding all around the street
Four oclock and theyre all asleep
Im not tired and its so late
Moving fast everything looks great.
My white bicycle, my white bicycle
See that man, hes all alone
Looks so happy but hes far from home
Ring my bell, smile at him
Better kick over his garbage bin
My white bicycle, my white bicycle
The rain comes down but I dont care
The wind is blowing in my hair
Seagulls flying in the air
My white bicycle
Lead:
Policeman shouts but I dont see him
Theyre one thing I dont believe in
Find some judge, but its not leavin
Lift both hands, his head in disgrace
Shines no light upon my face
Through the darkness, we still speed
My white bicycle and me
My white bicycle, my white bicycle
(burgess/west)
Getaway music
Copyright 1975 nazareth (dunfermline) ltd
song performed by by Nazareth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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For Mama
i never believe them
about the story. about the clinic and the
handsome doctor.
it was a remote possibility
that i could have been
born there
because i have always loved
the mountain and the sea
and i have always the feeling
that the dove
still hovers in my heart
how can a scalpel
be the source of my name
when i am but a seed
of the rice thrown
in the muddy fields?
they have destroyed your
face and your eyes bleed
some tears.the damage cannot
be repaired. when the coffee
spilt its hot liquid on the carpet
the aroma has escaped
our senses.
the stain hides on the dark
blue colors of its thickness.
there are new flowers
that i have planted in your
old garden. the rocks are kept.
and the pebbles. and the
little pond and the tadpoles
swim to be croaking frogs
this coming rainy season
for you mama. and i have
began to learn to love the
songs of the rain.to dance
under them. and be all wet.
i don't mind anymore.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Photograph
There is something about black and white-
.In pictorial images
Reproduced upon the surfaces of yesterday;
The Earth-The Sky-The Sea....
All sensitive to light
.Much as our skin to the sun-
It's radiant energy oft' sizzling;
Or perhaps capturing Falls leaves in dance
Or a Spring of hailstones;
The rooster at dawn-
A fires lone ember
.Your face in the moonlight
Your smile in the rain;
Yes, there is something about black and white-
And there IS something about this photograph of you!
poem by Theodora Onken
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White Shoes
(jack tempchin)
I want em, I need em
And Im gonna go out and get em
White shoes
I know Ill feel better
When I slide down into the leather
White shoes
White shoes ... woah, oh, oh... white shoes
White shoes ... woah, oh, oh... white shoes
I woke up from a dream
When I saw em in a magazine
White shoes
I said lou you gotta start new
And the first thing you gotta do
Is get some white shoes
White shoes ... woah, oh, oh... white shoes
White shoes ... woah, oh, oh... white shoes
You know he left me with the lonesome blues
Been hangin round too long with nothin to do
Yeah, he really made me pay those dues
But Im goin out on the town tonight in
White shoes
Well, I wanted em, I needed em
Yeah, and I went out and got em
White shoes
That new boy when I see him
Im gonna walk right up and meet him in
White shoes
White shoes ... woah, oh, oh... white shoes
White shoes
Im goin out on the town tonight
White shoes ... woah, oh, oh... white shoes
White shoes ... woah, oh, oh... white shoes
song performed by by Emmylou Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Two Halves of a Soul (song)
A beautiful new spring day
The grass, new tender and green
The trees, sprouting new leaves
A small rose vine climes a tree
And flowers pedals of scarlet red
‘A crystal pond paces away
All the little golden sun perch
Enjoying its fresh sparkling waters
A flock of pure white swans
Swimming their graceful way
A perfect wedding, for a perfect love
As we hold our hands so tightly
And look so deep in each others eyes
We know the other is the one
The missing half of our loving soul
Two collared dove light in a tree
And coo a sincere love song
It sounds like it was written for us
As we walk this pedal sprinkled aisle
Pledge our vowls and say “I do”
A perfect wedding, for a perfect love
As we hold our hands so tightly
And look so deep in each others eyes
We know the other is the one
The missing half of our loving soul
poem by Britney Hogue
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Everything is going to be wet
Every day rain falls down
from the overcast grey sky
and lightning bolts
flash blue white
like the fingers
of the gods
caressing the earth
while the leaves of autumn
cover every tree
in auburn, yellow and brown.
Green leaves on the stems
of big pink hollyhocks
here and there
dip up and down
when hit by drops of rain
as if suddenly coming alive
and it’s going to be
a wet winter
and probably
not all that chilly
with rain falling
out of season.
The grass is green
and everything but trees
are growing
as if it’s still spring.
and flowers bloom
on geraniums, roses, hollyhocks,
lilies, irises and petunias
in colours ranging
from white, orange, yellow,
violet to red and blue
and without covering
everything is going
to be wet.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Big White Petals On White Sands In Boracay
big white petals falling
on white sands
try to find out the reason
which one is which
white against white
you find a canvass
where nothing can be found
except the white silence
amidst another white silence
and true you find nothing
you think there is something there
you smile because somehow
you begin to understand
about this labyrinth that you are in
that you think you cannot escape
until you accept the truth
about this simplicity: nada y nada.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Big White Petals On White Sands
big white petals falling
on white sands
try to find out the reason
which one is which
white against white
you find a canvass
where nothing can be found
except the white silence
amidst another white silence
and true you find nothing
you think there is something there
you smile because somehow
you begin to understand
about this labyrinth that you are in
that you think you cannot escape
until you accept the truth
about this simplicity: nada y nada.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Snowy evening
Snowy evening
Snow filling the ground
Turning the city into white
She, in a bright red dress
Walking slowly, enjoying
Her walk in the snowy evening
Towards the Fence of the garden!
Greenaries of the garden
Now in white shades
With frozen drops of ice
Covering the grass
Every little bush
Like a cotton plant
Making a lovely sense!
Few snow flakes in her hands
To taste the pretty white snow
She opens her mouth
Awesome beauty with a white perl
In hand towards her mouth
With more innocence
Trees and bushes covered with snow
Wonders if she is pretty
Or the snow fall is pretty
Unexpressed silence persists
In the garden
Till the beauty
Went down the street!
poem by Archana Prabahar
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