Less Asylum
This fake city
encounters
a thundering
moment; I go down
coveting a mating
call from an explosion
of hallowed
questions, with no answers.
Stones were after all
stones, not gems of knowledge.
How can you make a
universal elixir figuratively
out of garbage of
human tongues?
poem by Satish Verma
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Sonnet On Receiving A Gift
Look how the golden ocean shines above
Its pebbly stones, and magnifies their girth;
So does the bright and blessed light of Love
Its own things glorify, and raise their worth.
As weeds seem flowers beneath the flattering brine,
And stones like gems, and gems as gems indeed,
Ev'n so our tokens shine; nay, they outshine
Pebbles and pearls, and gems and coral weed;
For where be ocean waves but half so clear,
So calmly constant, and so kindly warm,
As Love's most mild and glowing atmosphere,
That hath no dregs to be upturn'd by storm?
Thus, sweet, thy gracious gifts are gifts of price,
And more than gold to doting Avarice.
poem by Thomas Hood
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The Air is a Root
The air is a root.
The stones are filled with tenderness. bravo.
bravo. the stones are filled with air.
the stones are watery branches.
on the stones replacing the mouth
grows the skeleton of a leaf. bravo.
A stone voice face to face and foot to foot
with a stone glance.
the stones are tormented like flesh
the stones are clouds for their second
nature dances to them on their third nose.
bravo. bravo.
when the stones scratch themselves, nails grow
on the roots. bravo. bravo.
the stones woke to eat the exact
hour
Stones
Stones
Stones would play inside her head
And where she slept,
They made her bed
And she would ache
For love and get but stones
La la la la la la la la la
Lordy, child
A good days comin
And Ill be there to let the sun in
And bein lost
Is worth the comin home
La la la la la la la la la on stones
You and me, a time for planting
You and me, a harvest granting
The every prayer ever prayed
For just two wild flowers that grow
La la la la la la la la la on stones
Mmmmmmmm.....
song performed by by Neil Diamond
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What if Human Nature was Blind?
What if the gems found
Deep down underground
Had feelings about what humans do
Had feelings about me and you?
What if these precious stones cry
What if they scream out, asking why?
As they are taken and studied
For human want, not the need?
What if the humans could hear
And feel each and every tear
These gems let loose as they are pried
From the comfort of the Earth dried?
What if the humans choose to look away
Causing the gems to feel the dismay
As they are left to feel the pain
Of the humans weather, mostly the rain.
Well, the gems will break and be no more
The humans will have nothing left, to put in their store.
poem by Thamer Mager
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Blame It On The Stones
Mister marvin middle class is really in a stew
Wondrin what the younger generations coming to
And the taste of his martini doesnt please his bitter tongue
Blame it on the rolling stones.
Blame it on the stones; blame it on the stones
Youll feel so much better, knowing you dont stand alone
Join the accusation; save the bleeding nation
Get it off your shoulders; blame it on the stones
Mother tells the ladies at the bridge club every day
Of the rising price of tranquilizers she must pay
And she wonders why the children never seem to stay at home
Blame it on the rolling stones.
Blame it on the stones; blame it on the stones
Youll feel so much better, knowing you dont stand alone
Join the accusation; save the bleeding nation
Get it off your shoulders; blame it on the stones
Fathers at the office, nightly working all the time
Trying to make the secretary change her little mind
And it bothers him to read about so many broken homes
Blame it on those rolling stones.
Blame it on the stones; blame it on the stones
Youll feel so much better knowing you dont stand alone
Join the accusation; same the bleeding nation
Get it off your shoulders; blame it on the stones
Blame it on the stones, blame it on the stones.
song performed by by Kris Kristofferson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An Encounter...
in that encounter
the day becomes a mirror
as i begin to see every part of you in me.
the same eyes
longing for the outside game
the same feet wanting to walk all the edges of this earth
you are asking questions
that need the answers to the same questions over and over again
i play this game too
and even though i am bored i make you feel that this is interesting
i talk to fill the missing words in your mouth
and you listen
hoping to find inside me what you have been looking for
it will take a long time for you to know that i am just
another sea breeze
kissing sands and stones.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Routine
the routine is the path to
a prejudice
the stones there becomes our ordinary stones
the colors are the same everyday
and stopping becomes a stranger
the world rotates upon itself
and there are no questions addressed
to the passing wind
and even the fire that puts itself off
without your asking
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A great scientist
He was full of questions.
For others, he provided answers
that stunned their knowledge and their world;
for him, his answers were but springboards
for his further questions.
He was the humblest of agnostics,
the humblest too, of atheists:
in the absence of sure faith in answers,
he lived with faith in questions;
and lived in wonder – full of wonder at the laws
that unfolded to his curiosity;
an eternity of questions;
an eternity of wonder at the world;
and perhaps, the God he did not believe in,
smiled, and loved him as a true believer;
sharing the goodness, truth and beauty of the universe
as angels may; believing in the love of law,
as the God of questions and creation must.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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What We Have Become
in the shallow part of the river
we decide to play: life is a game
we like to believe that
our arms drip like cold water
on the side of the glass
that you hold when you have felt
the first thirst
i shall not satisfy you
and so i have become the bait
of the fish
you have become more interested
on what i have to say
not to be mistaken as trivial
i have also taken more glances at you
i believe you
and so with this trust i ask you to go with me
to the deep part of the sea
i swim first then you follow
you know how to swim and you swim well in fact
like a fish
at the shallow part
i told you that nothing is hidden
nothing signifies anything
the stones are stones
and nothing else
your questions are just ordinary questions
which i have answered to well
and you believe me more until
we dive deep
deeper into the ocean floor
where the sands though silent
have more to say
than what i can tell you
the stones on the sides of the deep
now are telling you more
and you begin to understand
why for all those years
on that dry land
i have kept my silence
my distance.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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evasive (EDITED FOR one letter only)
the answers are shy
they have not matured
they always are not
confronting the questions
which keep on roaming like
Nazi soldiers looking
for the kill of the innocent
ones
the answers are arrows
with blunt tips
the questions are the black holes
of our universe
who dares to answer all of them
not me
i see all the questions
and i am but a little boy stupid on the street
looking for mother
and afraid of what a father can do
to defend the senselessness of
my posture
the questions are alive
the answers need a redemption
i take the side step
write a poem and then sleep
who knows?
the answer is nothing but a dream
yes, a dream
something ephemeral
yes, an illusion
something like a mirror
yes, a moment,
something that must pass like the shadow of the moon.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Evasive
the answers are shy
they have not matured
they always are not
confronting the questions
which keep on roaming like
Nazi soldiers looking
for the kill of the innocent
ones
the answers are arrows
with blunt tips
the questions are the black holes
of our universe
who dares to answer all of them
not me
i see all the questions
and i am but a little boy stupid on the street
looking for mother
and afraid of what a father can do
to defend the senselessness of
my posture
the questions are alive
the answers need a redemption
i take the side step
write a poem and then sleep
who know?
the answer is nothing but a dream
yes, a dream
something ephemeral
yes, an illusion
something like a mirror
yes, a moment,
something that must pass like the shadow of the moon.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Migration
Migration
In this rich flat landscape there are no stones they had to
travel to the far mountain and with mule and cart it was
a long arduous journey. Stones were only used as base for
houses and as grave stones, but since these were stolen
so this practice ended, the dead had to do with wooden
crosses which tend to rot when it rains. Farmers buried
their stones under a mass of soil, for safety mounds of
them dotted the flat landscape and made it less monotone.
Modern time, a railway line stretches across the land and
ends in a haze were the mountain begins, stones are now
a common thing, way, all and sundry has one, the poorest
even have gravelled strewn back yards. A clever man decided
to open a rise and sell stones a souvenir as a memory of
the past, when life was idyllic, but he found a mass grave,
not only human skeletons but also household goods, toys
and musical instruments.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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We, Here,
we, here,
we are like stones
there are no hands
that clap
no mouths that make
the praise
we are like the stones
of the shores of the sea
about to be annihilated
by the convolutions of time and thoughts.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Neighbor
you live in the clouds
below all these drifters
are the stones
flowers of the earth
children of the
chipped cliffs
we are the progeny
of the rocks
from our cracks
waters flow
thirsts are quenched
and strangers
spread the news about
us: from our hardness
and painless existence
comes out
the softness and kindness
of the waters
of this earth
you shift and gather
somewhere
soundlessly
looking down upon us
in the hardness of
our silenced
existence
you predict weathers
you tell us you own the rain
and the sun
we look forward
adapt to the changes
for one thing
we do not drift and gather
somewhere
still asking for the
correct directions
we are blind
and so we know what is within us
we have no other option
we are the stones
we ask no more
about those questions
neither do we keep those answers
we are here
we do not move
we do not blink
we welcome the moss
we are never tossed....
neighbor cloud
nebulous, oh how infamous
now, tumultuous
fatuous...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Fantastic Stones
Fantastic stones so outlandish,
Them fallacies of the brave,
A pixie will attack a leprechaun,
When the fairy will falter.
This is no misconception.
Stones are burning bright with power
For the cowards who have swine and elves.
Fantastic tremendous stones.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Rucksack Full Of Stones
A Babe…
Born perfect, innocent, ready
Cast into a corrupt world
Parents eagerly present
A family heirloom
A patchwork rucksack
Part-filled with stones
To a wide-eyed child
Begins the journey…
Child given stones of many shapes, sizes
Stones of pity, sorrow, fear, trauma
Stones filled with words like “No”
Stones filled with ugly phrases
Stones filled with abuse, punishment, pain
Rucksack seams burgeon
A growing Soul shouts
“Enough”
Emptying begins…
Through lessons, experiences, prayer
One by one
Removed the stones
Rucksack lightens
By the Grace of God,
Finally emptied
Another Babe born
Rucksack beckons
“Not this time”
Rucksack flung
Into Wisdom’s Fire
Consumed
Ends a vicious cycle…
poem by Ray Lucero
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Universal Daddy
If you want a new connection
Ill be just a step away
Come on move in my direction
Leave your dollshouse at the breaking of the day
Get this message from your heartbeat
Theres an ally you can trust
Youve been searching for adventure
Follow me, lets take the golden path.
Theres a universal daddy for everyone
From universal kingdom number one
He sends his universal angels
Through the air
To universal dreamers
Everywhere
Blowing kisses!!
Any girl from any nation
Any boy could drive my car
Ill supply the next sensation
Itll happen if you wish upon a star
Throwing stones against your windows
Dont pretend youre not at home
You can meet me if you want me
But Id like to meet you all alone...
Theres a universal daddy
For everyone
From universal kingdom
Number one
He sends his universal angels
Through the air
To universal dreamers
Everywhere
Blowing kisses!!
song performed by by Alphaville
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What Now?
now the questions are asking you
what now? quo vadis?
where to? what for?
why?
yes, why above all.
the questions are asking you
and you must answer with the very same questions to the questions
you beg, and they beg too
the answer to the questions
but you have no answers really
you have learned the art of wisdom
its own ways
its own manners of not answering with answers
who knows? no one knows?
oh, ahh, i must start from where wisdow
was born
here i am and i know nothing....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Eternal torque
subtle waves
move water
little stones
sand grains
slightly move along
for a moment
settling down
on the sandy bottom
of the sea
or the wet beach
they all reflect
the light
if they are in sight
of the sun
while hiddenin sand
waiting for the moment
the land above them
is on the move again
everything is about to change
that next wave
causes an earthquake
in that little world
of stones, water, sand and sea
poem by Ellie Daphne van Stralen
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Teach
Teach me, I want to be taught
Show me the answers that I had sought
Explain to me as I want to learn
As in my soul a passion does burn,
Give me the answers so I can understand
Ask me the questions again and again
Give me the fruit which you call knowledge
Then it will become my meal and my college,
Show me the questions that I must ask
So I can drink and learn from that flask
Tell me all that you’ve read and what you know
As my intellect and learning needs to grow,
Tell me the books that I must read
That too implanted in you that education seed
Stand on your feet I am not out of reach
All that I ask from you is please, teach.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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