In This Bin

in this bin
i put
everything

pains, sorrows,
&
joys, happiness

my bin
and my own alone

like some mailbox
of my
emotions

this is a world
where
i am: open, close
mystery,
double talk
whisper

shout
angry, scream, howl,
wail,

this is where
i can be everything: a mocking bird, a werewolf, an angel,
devil,
crocodile, merman, worm, fish, butterfly
eagle
monkey, ghost, soul,
passionate body

fingers, hands, feet
lips

all the feelings and colors
of my mind

feel me, as i too feel you
what have i to gain
what have i to lose

you say, you think, words, words, and nothing but words,
no,
no,
do not reduce everything to simple terms of words
and letters
and syllables,

this is a field where i have sown the seeds of my self
and some flowers
begin to bloom here, and some fruits are ripe for the picking

i like you being the child who climbs
the tree where my fruits are sweet and ripe

i like you being the lady who comes along
and picks my flowers

i like you being the wind that helps my clouds
drift only to be alive
crossing the boundaries of space between
peaks of mountains

this is not a dustbin anymore, this is my house
this is my dwelling

there is a soft easy chair in my mind
a glass vase with a red rose
glazed with dew

like my tears, like my eyes that i am hiding
for you not to clearly see

this is not just a dustbin, this is now my home
come
come
come

make this your home, enter my door, follow me
in the labyrinths of my feelings
my hopes and dreams

come
come
come

take a seat, and have breakfast with
me
see the glass window opening to a view
of the pines and the green mountains

a little frost may blind us
but here we are, i have prepared you tea
and
sympathy and some stories about myself

listen, and be free, to tell your stories too,
the sun has just shone

and indeed, it is a very new day.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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