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Poems By Poet RIC S. BASTASA  8/27/2014 4:00:48 AM
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  RIC S. BASTASA
 
 
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  5597.     

dreaming of pigeons

not on a Sunday but it was
a Wednesday
the novena of the Mother of Perpetual Help
when her hands are soft
and cold,

as cold as the limestone wall
of the Spanish Church
the air is chilly for on that month
the rain does not stop

two teenyboppers kneeling
praying to make it through the uncertainties
of youth

love that feeling when brushing the skin
of the beloved
makes the universe travel into light years
with meteors exploding
like the Fourth of July

I still remember this
But now without so much flare.
 
RIC S. BASTASA
   
 

   
   
 

  5598.     

dreaming the impossible...

i never stop dreaming
the impossible

in fact, it is the impossible
that makes me

alive, the possible only
reduces me to a dot, a

sentence so dull because
everything is clear we

must look for what is missing,
for they are not here yet not

sleep and grapple with
what are so boringly obvious,

dreams on waking hours,
well thought of, in full details,

what if, so well, try again,
failures are projectiles.
 
RIC S. BASTASA
   
 

   
   
 

  5599.     

Dreams

it is the dreaming
it is what stopped that is killing you
don't stop the coming of dreams
welcome them
let them sit on your easy chair
talk freely
yawn if you must
it is nearer to it
that door that opens
when you lose
that restraint of
consciousness
when playful as any child
you embrace every color
every scent
every form
of dreams that make you rest
from too much
thinking
 
RIC S. BASTASA
   
 

   
   
 

  5600.     

dreams

for things that we cannot have
for people that we love but we cannot hug
for the solutions of the problems that we have learned to set aside for a while
for places we wish to go and yet can't take a step beside their shores
for wounds to heal
for things we have forgotten
for our dead ancestors who wish to speak to us again
for some precautions
for our suppressed desires
for those we bury while we are awake
for our escape to fantasy
for our imaginations to run wild chasing rainbows
for our dead love ones
for those who wish to be with us again
for the floating experience on baby pink clouds
marshmallow feelings and black forest cake sweetness
for all these wishes

weary and weak, i close my eyes
and then
i welcome all my dreams
 
RIC S. BASTASA
   
 
 
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Poems By Poet RIC S. BASTASA