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Poems By Poet RIC S. BASTASA  4/30/2016 2:13:29 AM
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  RIC S. BASTASA
 
 
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  11797.     

Repetitions

from a hill
you go down the plain
you pass by the river
and take your time
feeling the water by your hands
and sitting on a rock beside the bank
you let fall your feet
just feeling the water
pass by your soles

the coldness of repetition
the monotony of its sound
you hear all these
and feel
every moment of your life

there is no complaint at all
it is
and will always be
so refreshing and so beautiful!
 
RIC S. BASTASA
   
 

   
   
 

  11798.     

Replay....

there is this desert
which is full of love
there is nothing in there
except the ostracized
ostrich
you like it somehow
saying, ah, love is still
the answer

there is this paradise
full of greens and reds
fenced by the rules
loveless,
you do not like to live there
despite the
comfort of the
apple trees
and the scents of the pines
and the coolness of
the blueness of the
coves and
the clouds

now you must make the choice
which one? i have chosen mine.
 
RIC S. BASTASA
   
 

   
   
 

  11799.     

Repost Pn A Memory

When the world was new, I could not relate
To the loneliness of the song with you,
The colors of its sounds were too vibrant,
mostly red
And orange, and the coolness of green
Preoccupied my eyes to almost everything.
I was not interested perhaps,
I was too busy listening to something else.
My hands are crazy.
You did not mind of course.
You wait to the
Slit of a new opening where you think that soon
I will understand. I was moving here and there
Like a pendulum
Under the principle of pleasure. Both of my hands
Are holding on to something that I can easily
Give up and then feel nothing. The craze of letting
Things go and then forget and then embracing
Something new again.

There is something
However that is meant to stay that when it is gone,
You go with it and then you are lost.

There is this certain sadness with you that lingers
Like a very lonely song. Everyday it plays itself
Like a bird alone on a twig. It does not go away and
Enthralls me and then after it has unloaded all
The beauty of its notes, how it pleased my ears
It stays unmoved and then keeps on its
Chosen position until darkness hovers in
Like a blanket to its black beak.

There is this silence
That stares and then tells you its name
Honestly
The syllables of which sound very much like yours.
You know where it lives and so you do not bothe
 
RIC S. BASTASA
   
 

   
   
 

  11800.     

Repost....

a house is built
made of bricks, red as blood
at the center of the island
black as a mole
at the middle of your right
cheek

it is fenced by the locks of
your hair
it is guarded by the cautious
tongue of your face

at the other side
bounded by a big brown river
is a cottage
no living room, no kitchen
not even a restroom
it is just a square cottage
with roof leaking
where i can see the stars

if you know me well enough
for years that i have been with you
and for days that i have left you
you shall know where i live
and if you love me well enough
you'll take nothing with you
to follow me

and i know you will never be lost
until you find
the place where my heart sings
 
RIC S. BASTASA
   
 
 
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Poems By Poet RIC S. BASTASA