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Poems By Poet RIC S. BASTASA  10/30/2014 7:10:12 AM
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  RIC S. BASTASA
 
 
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  11589.     

suppressed......

seeing you
i hear my heart beats
like drums of
Korea

i put my hand
on my chest
suppressing
the loud sound

like the mouth of
a fan screaming
to the sight of
its idol

my hand is the rag
that covers it
 
RIC S. BASTASA
   
 

   
   
 

  11590.     

supressed love

how you kept that flower
inside a closed jar
and still let it bloom
for 47 summers

how you kept
that kitten inside
a dark cage
for 47 summers
and let it meow
meow all those
years

you must be crazy
and so cruel
to yourself

how did you ever survive
without any breath

you choke all day
i am amazed
you did not even ever ask
for any help
 
RIC S. BASTASA
   
 

   
   
 

  11591.     

supression, its evil lurking at the compost pit

he was in grade three, neat and clean
and well taken cared of,
his tv shows screened
kissing scenes a taboo
and sexist language strictly filtered,
movies prohibited and
loose behavior restrained

christian boy in an exclusive
religious school of st. vincent's in a
small city, where girls are on the other
side of the gate, where the boys
look for them like some hidden gems,

to me that is segregation,
a supression of my right to be me
as a boy and for me to see girls
and have fun with them,

it was not easy, but there was this
incident which i could not really forget
and perhaps justifies my rebellion
for what is evil
in segregation for what is wrong
with supression,

my classmates, all boys, hid themselves
in the compost pit and rolled down their
trousers, their eyes like fire lighting
the centerfold of the Playgirl magazine
sometime in 1964.

i was the little christian boy
raised in the strictest tradition
neat and clean and feeling
so ousted.
 
RIC S. BASTASA
   
 

   
   
 

  11592.     

sure, a bad day comes

surely bad days come
and they are not just
normal sometimes
there are too many
of them and then you

learn to live with them
just like your ordinary
good days. You say
hell, but then heaven
comes on a brand new
day like this: a perfect

timing: you are here
and i am here and
we have nothing to
do except to talk and
talk and talk and
then finally at last
we find a common
ground: we kiss and

touch each other's
soul, deeper than before.
 
RIC S. BASTASA
   
 
 
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Poems By Poet RIC S. BASTASA