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Best Poems From
RIC S. BASTASA
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9505.
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one night in monte alegre
i see the sun
set in Monte Alegre
A White brow
framed by the window
long white hair
flowing like a polluted river
upon the neck of
an old woman
holding a cane
such trembling hands
worn out
stopping on the edge
of uncut fingernails
eyes
fixed upon
the nothingness that
i, who sit there,
am, beginning to see
it is not horrible
darkness creeping
upon the black thigh
dry blood
scarlet night
dead in Monte Alegre
RIC S. BASTASA
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9506.
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one night she reads my poems
one night she reads some of my poems
those that speak about leaving
images of sunset and dusk
a bird flying away from the cage
a stone thrown to space like one tennis ball
at night
something that is gone away
for good
she feels each line and well
every metaphor she understands
and she asks me if i have something to tell her
i smile and like Robert i play nice and then i utter the most
philosophical word in the entire history of humanity:
'nothing'
RIC S. BASTASA
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9507.
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one night stand
a one-night stand is easily forgotten
because it usually happens when the world is drunk
i mean, both of us, for on such a one-night stint
we stink, and we smell what we hate,
betrayal of our innate dignities,
we fear,
about what tomorrow shall say
about our shamefulness,
and on the following morning after we have stained
every skin of our body,
we take a thorough bath,
we wash our body with scented soap,
lots of hot water,
we avoid the gaze
we seem to think
this is all a mistake and we do not want to repeat it,
ah, promises of another mad lover,
we think of the money involved,
and the wasted time,
and the fear of being discovered by a neighbor,
we get out of this mess
not remembering any name
mine or yours,
we hate this, we like to tell the bulb
we switch it off,
and then we go back to the lighted world
outside the door.
another night knocks,
i press your number on the cellphone.
this madness, on the other hand,
i tell myself, is keeping me sane and alive.
another one-night stand
is in the offing. Delicious.
RIC S. BASTASA
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9508.
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one of my happiest days
father and mother that time
split
like a bamboo unable to take
the sway anymore of the
wind's selfish dance
and you sister
remembered my birthday and
you gave me this gift:
a brown sweatshirt inside
a brown box
wrapped with brown manila paper
cool earth i touched, the place where all my roots are
and you are there as i poured it with tears
not the sad ones my dear sister
but tears of joy for your kind remembering
RIC S. BASTASA
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