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Poems By Poet RIC S. BASTASA  7/10/2014 4:37:50 AM
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  Best Poems From
  RIC S. BASTASA
 
 
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  11797.     

the first morning of the new year

and now everyone is back to sleep
last night's revelry was a must
firecrackers, heavy drinking,
loud music, motors honking
and at the last countdown
the clinking of wine glasses
for the toasts

a happy new year
they all promised themselves

i slept early last nigth
after a silent prayer

waking up at 4 in the morning
another silence meets me

and this silence shall be the same
for another year

strong, and ponderous
trying not to disturb anyone
curling satisfactorily upon itself
like a boa that i just fed.
 
RIC S. BASTASA
   
 

   
   
 

  11798.     

The First Part Of The Misleading Venture

the poor [ i.e. workers of the farm,
pregnant corn husker, the driver of the
pedicab, the smoking tomato gatherer,
the sweet potato washer}

i am lost in the symbols
of humanity, i am trying to decipher again
the meaning of their visit
and they decision here to spend the night
at the second floor of this house
where my father-in-law died because his
son pushed him towards the stair
and hit his head
on the grinding stone

the bolo is sharp, blood flowed from the
pig's neck
after that scream

there is noise, and some magicians are selling
potions
when someone needs love so badly
and then resorts
of spells

the natives are smelling so bad
there is no water in the river where they come from
they are thin
there stomachs are filled with air
hairs with lice

i guess you know when this happens
and why this happens
because, it is fiesta time and there is no more road for us to use.
 
RIC S. BASTASA
   
 

   
   
 

  11799.     

the first rain

got a good look at the falling of the
first rain
in my town up on the hill where i
am contemplating about
the game of hate and love
and greed and giving
and power and subjection
like bow and arrow
and water and fire all in my head

i wait and then it come
all umbrellas open some windows begin to close
i like most to see
the rush for shelter

another form of in/humanity looking for safety
praying for the rain and confused when to close and when to open.
 
RIC S. BASTASA
   
 

   
   
 

  11800.     

The First Scene Of Childhood

the first scene
is white. Against the snow
trees without leaves
beneath their feet
are the fallen
leaves,
red,
the air is cold, and howling
no one lives here
anymore.

do not go there,
it can make you like myself.
 
RIC S. BASTASA
   
 
 
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Poems By Poet RIC S. BASTASA