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Poems By Poet RIC S. BASTASA  2/11/2016 9:26:53 PM
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  RIC S. BASTASA
 
 
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  9473.     

Learning The Ways Of Misery...

when you left an hour ago
to the city
i thought i may not be able
to know what to do
in the next few hours
here in this
lonely town where leaves
keep on falling as the
wind has always been strong
and cruel

i may only be listening to the
noise of barking dogs the moment
another stranger riding on a
bicycle passes by the road fronting
this old house

but really i have figured out that
if this thing happens over and over again
and perhaps even for real and
perchance becomes a permanent state
of an inevitable departure

i said to myself i must as early this
raw and budding time know how to meet
a calamity:

i face a blank screen
choose a classical music
and i listen and then i
begin to write about anything
to preoccupy my mind and
i scroll about the lives of
people

and there i tell you
i am not alone

there is so much misery
in this world and there are
so many miserable people

i am one in a billion and that
makes us so many


sands on the shore
stars in the sky
molecules in air
drops of rain
mists along with the waterfall
letters in a book

and so finally
I am comforted

and i spontaneously
learned how to sing and dance
with no one looking...
 
RIC S. BASTASA
   
 

   
   
 

  9474.     

Learning This Kind Of Game

I am learning this kind of game
which you taught me when i was

just leaning upon a wall and thinking
that it loves me

to meet you, and have a drink with you
and kiss you inside a dark room and

then speechless as we are, we take
turns leaving each other

with a note that soon this will happen
again, this story of hello, goodbye, hello

endless in the pages of your longings
and always anticipating that soon

everything in our backgrounds will be
ironed out by a god who has no other

concern but our happiness, freed from
the prison walls of selfishness and greed

and always open to other possibilities
to a door that opens by themselves when

we begin to utter those old words again
' i miss you' and the echo, 'miss you too'
 
RIC S. BASTASA
   
 

   
   
 

  9475.     

Learning To Distinguish Respect, Love And Lust

you must know how to distinguish respect
from love and lust, it is like this way

when both of you are dressed
there will always be respect

and when both of you begin to talk
and share an intimacy like holding hands

and caressing faces and closing your eyes
and making hints between here and there

when like a poem you are still at the stage
of groping for images and metaphors

you are still at the stage of love
in the process of an eye contact and slight rubbing
of hands and hips and sides and sensing the smell

of a scent and telling that person that there is this
cuteness and loveliness on a certain surface

but then beware when both of you start to undress
in a dimly lit room where the windows are closed
where the curtains are left hanging when their ribbons
are let loose when the door is locked when there is nothing
but nudity and fullness of desire

in here you do not ask for any permission anymore
you do not ask for a glass of water or for a slice of bread
both of you are thirsty and hungry

on this stage of lust, you are cannibals
and savages, throwing away all the lessons that gentleness
taught us: you throw away your clothers, your underwears
anywhere, and they all fall in different corners

then you start eating each other, every skin is licked,
every scent is tasted, every thing is bitten
in all wanton greed, you want to consume every self that you
claim you own.

you all give up what you are.after such feelings
as respect, and love and lust, these two things come last.

giving and taking. but for me it is more of the giving.
i call it satiation. because love and sex, is nothing but the
giving of self and taking nothing in return.
 
RIC S. BASTASA
   
 

   
   
 

  9476.     

Learning To Live Alone

you lose them. and you do not really mind as they slowly
slip away. friends.

one says i am tactless, and the other complains
that i am subtle in chiding them,
insulting him without his knowing and only then
when he is caught in the midst of friends who laugh at him.

one says i am arrogant, and my superiority is not doing me
any good anyway.

my mistake. i must, they say acknowledge the mistake
of just being myself.

baloney. i do not give a damn now if they are like the stars
united to attack the sheen of my moon
at midnight.

it is enough. i am fed up. i sever what is severe.
i cut the umbilical cord that tries to
tell me what i should be.

baloney. i am different. i am purely myself now.
i walk alone and think about my own thoughts.

i touch no one now and no one touches me.
i am an island. I am learning to be

an island in front of you.
 
RIC S. BASTASA
   
 
 
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Poems By Poet RIC S. BASTASA