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Best Poems From
RIC S. BASTASA
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9633.
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poem from frances R. (1)
i sang a sad song last night and they all liked it.
i rested for a while on that soft chair on that table by the corner
like a very lonely stranger.
i listened for the singer after me with his guitar singing another
love song.
not for me but for all of you.
i smoked my marlboro cigarette and breathed out some smoke like what
the rest were doing in that crowded karaoke garden,
a tissue was passed, i looked at it on a pinlight
i would be singing again another sad love song as requested by all of you
that time it was the song that i had written myself four years ago
i had given birth to two lovely daughters then when their father left them
i took my guitar went on stage and started to strum and sing
a song i had written years ago, some memories rushing back to me
all of you were silent then with your glasses of wine and smoke
holding hands to your girl or man on your side pressing some
soft flesh and felt the sad song of love creeping like a vine in the air
you waited for the moment when i will cry again
lights and eyes focusing in my eyes
i didn't cry anymore on the stage as you saw me once crying.
my tissue was wet with tears just a moment ago when i sat like any
stranger on that table beside an empty chair.
it was dark on that nook.
RIC S. BASTASA
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9634.
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poem on a sunday #1
nothing is really useless.
even those who only wait, has that function.
waiting.
and it is a sacrifice, just imagine
you, at the train station,
wanting to leave and be somewhere else,
yet you do what you are assigned to
do that whole week,
waiting. It saddens me.
I tremble to some extent.
Like a heavy thud
of impatient feet, throwing away the shoes
that serve no purpose.
on the other hand, i assure you,
everything has a purpose.
the cup, the saucer, the teaspoon
and the white
sugar & the coffee,
they blend and you take your day
sipping.
in your world,
there are lapses, something glitches
you see slipping moments,
and you sigh.
ah, do not worry,
they also do what you are supposed to do,
they serve us &
you serve them
a bowl of cherries, a can of laughter,
a nugget of wisdom,
and time
this time, we note what ponder can do,
what blankness can paint
what seeds can sorrow grow?
RIC S. BASTASA
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9635.
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Poemhunter
A shelter of truth and lies
I am toying with my
Computer keys
then the poems
are posted
RIC S. BASTASA
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9636.
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Poetess
now that you have awakened from the deep slumber
you shall rise and meet this bright morning
do you see the sun rising from the thighs of the mountain?
do you hear the songs of birds from the mouths of the caves?
do you see how the trees dance to the caresses of the winds?
do you feel the coolness of the dew hanging on the blades of grass
as they all touch the soles of your feet?
they have been waiting for you
they are the images of your poetry
they are the symbols of your greatness
my dear poetess, how can you ever stop writing the words?
how can you ever stop to sing the songs of beauty?
how can you ever deny the true nature of your being?
my dear poetess, you must begin to write again
in all these, you shall not die.
RIC S. BASTASA
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