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Poems By Poet RIC S. BASTASA  1/30/2015 3:33:37 PM
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  RIC S. BASTASA
 
 
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  1597.     

the moslem and the christian

by mere chance one day
the christian and the moslem become neighbors

the moslem fenced his house
for fear that the christian may squat a part of its porch

the christian on the other hand
instructs his children not to befriend his children
for fear of betrayal

the moslem too instructs his kids to watch over their sleepers
the christians mind you steal from the moslems he said

the christian is cautious too
on the thinking that moslems are terrorists

on these set of prejudices
they can never live happily ever after

thus the christian-moslem story never ends.
 
RIC S. BASTASA
   
 

   
   
 

  1598.     

the need for affirmation

how i tried to be just myself in the corner
like a stone
but it is not at all possible
i am not just a stone
i am a worm

how i wish just to wriggle
and live in that
small leaf
but it is not at all possible
i am a butterfly

how i wish just to flutter
from one flower to
another
but it is not at all possible
i am a bird

how i wish to be just a bird,
a cloud, the sun, the moon
or the thousand stars

and then i become
a man

and it is enough
you just called my name
and it is perfectly a good beginning
 
RIC S. BASTASA
   
 

   
   
 

  1599.     

the new teacher

he prides himself about
this job
where he is all wise
and his students listen
he drives the points
like he's the hammer to
his nails

somehow the old teacher
listens

it is not supposed to
be

he picks a snail
a house actually where the hermit
crab lives

he whistles and the crab comes
out
learning the song of the
master

the wind, soft as breeze
the openness like the wide gate
of the morning sun
between the breasts of the hills
 
RIC S. BASTASA
   
 

   
   
 

  1600.     

The nice, good feeling

Love like all knowledge
Is a remembering
It has its own wisdom
Its forebodings in
This individual, I,

I shall travel this
World, not on the pages
Of your book, to find
This place, in you,
That which I lack,
That which my being
Points always points
Towards you, till you
Are next to me, so near,
Filling me; this emptiness,
I am transfixed; transfigured
For my real self, this feeling,
It is nice to be here, at last.
 
RIC S. BASTASA
   
 
 
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Poems By Poet RIC S. BASTASA