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Poems By Poet RIC S. BASTASA  7/9/2014 8:47:42 PM
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  RIC S. BASTASA
 
 
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  11573.     

the dance of life (4)

square pegs
trying to take the steps of the
circle

holes everywhere
lapses
dark spots
explosions
and weeping on one side

at the other side of this world
is the big party
people laughing and dancing
and children
chasing each other

that storm and time
and still ponds and sitting lotuses

a baby on the crib
and a young couple making love in bed
a window opens
to a beautiful sunset

sadness and truth and lies sprouting like
grasses in an open field

seeds turning into trees
and rain stopping one evening
 
RIC S. BASTASA
   
 

   
   
 

  11574.     

the dance of the children around a burning house

will you be surprised
when all your children will dance
because the old house
is finally burned?

i will be Papa
but only for a while
perhaps only upon
that superficial level
of self-respect
for those who built the
house from their
own sweat
and died.

and then Papa
i will have to join the dance
myself
 
RIC S. BASTASA
   
 

   
   
 

  11575.     

the dancer's feet

the dancer's feet are
on the air
the body is so light
in extreme joy
bliss like a balloon
floats the body
as light as air

such is the short moment
of flight of life's dance
until the tip of the body
touches once again
the hard and harsh floor
of reality

and then one says
sorry, but this is life
it is all about roots and
anchor
bliss is fleeting like
feet on the air
 
RIC S. BASTASA
   
 

   
   
 

  11576.     

THE DANCING NATIVES OF COGON

trained now in the art of
tourism
all for the love of money
they change costumes when the white guests
arrive upon prior notice
relearn their old language
practice the dance of their old ancestors
using the wooden spears and shield
as props
on a rehashed warrior dance
or the wedding march
or the symbolic courtship of the
birds

in proper places now
the tourists from America has arrived
like a stage show
or a big pretense as i may call this
(unable to land for employment on their
chosen degrees)
they dance for them
and let them hear an old language
an old song
a lullaby that their mothers used to sing for them
all for the dollars.
 
RIC S. BASTASA
   
 
 
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Poems By Poet RIC S. BASTASA