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Poems By Poet RIC S. BASTASA  9/1/2014 8:48:34 PM
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  RIC S. BASTASA
 
 
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  11557.     

Still in

On that hammock
i keep on telling myself

'this is temporary
soon things return
to its original smooth
and proper
dimensions'

i do not pray much
but i pray

that life irons out
its own creases

that i soon know how
to live again
just like that smooth skinned
yesterday woman

that the river will recontain
water on its banks

that my mouth shall thirst
for tongues

that my tongue shall keep
some words till dawn

i pray and i pray some more
until

morning breaks again with
light on its hands

there is mug of coffee on the
rail by the window
and its fumes are showing me
how life breathes in space

there is a vine with more leaves
a flower at the end
a tendril still imitating the fingers
of my longings

everything is alive here
everyone is singing out there

why i do not join them?
why? why in the world will
i say that i do not know how to
live my life everyday?

it is all in the mind
it is all in the mind

decide for now, i tell myself
oh yes, i am still in
 
RIC S. BASTASA
   
 

   
   
 

  11558.     

Still looking

I am still looking for the taste
of that last kiss

the kind of warmth that the last hug
can give me

the kindest word that can move me into
tears

of joy and the most justifying goodbye
that must be said

so that if i finally go away i may not look back
and turn to salt

like the wife of Lot.
 
RIC S. BASTASA
   
 

   
   
 

  11559.     

Still Worth It

his only gift to his
friends after those
long 25 years
in today's reunion
is to say
the grace before
meals

we understand
of course
his prayerful nature
and his
stingy ways
his greed for money
and selfishness
were never lost
despite
the loneliness of
the years....
 
RIC S. BASTASA
   
 

   
   
 

  11560.     

stimulus response.....

when you feel that you are pushed to the edge
and there is no more possible space for patience

what kind of language would you like me to speak?
what mode of courtesy do you expect?

blame me not for the foul language, the curse and damnation
that i bombard you every minute of your day

forgive me but i am just giving you what i think you deserve.
you violence begets my violence, you ill wind begets my storms.
 
RIC S. BASTASA
   
 
 
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Poems By Poet RIC S. BASTASA