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1597.
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destiny
(for estrella dy-imperial on her death anniversary)
under the tall coconut trees
you warned all of us
to watch out
you had not finished
saying the warning
when suddenly a coconut
fell off the tree
and hit you right
in the middle of your
forehead
dead on the spot
t'was you
we were speechless
unable to believe
how death sometimes
strikes
the most careful creature
still wanting to be
alive.....
RIC S. BASTASA
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1598.
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devastatus
the news was awful
and it was devastating for dr. serafin
he waited
and there was no cure
there was only this falling
and failing
and falling
on an abyss
without for him
an end
dr. serafin did not cry
his wife did
she imagined a city
destroyed by this quake
and then fire came
and burned
the whole city
that ate
all the women
and children
there was in actuality
no earthquake
no city fire
there were only tears
from her eyes
and she said
what she did not really see
she felt
all the way down to the
smallest nerve
of her toes
dr. serafin was devastated
that was the only word
he knew
and it is still inside his heart
i waited for him to say
he does not believe
in God anymore
but he did not say it
he couldn't
he just did not have any courage at all
to be honest
he did not ask me
either
he knows i do not have the courage
too
there is simply no word
inside my heart
yet
for all these miseries
RIC S. BASTASA
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1599.
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DIASPORA
From this plains i see a diaspora
of brown butterflies fluttering towards
the western side of this little earth
where i am merely one of the stewards.
I could have told them to stay as I still
have a lot of red roses to offer but
they are not listening because the
song the green song of the west
is so enticing.
I ask the eastern wind to sing the songs
of the kabuki and the cebuano guitar
and the nose flute of my great sultans
and the agongs of the Malayan caravan,
but they're not listening
Now, the tides changed. The West wind
is harsh and the trees there too unfriendly.
I see the brown butterflies crushed to death.
Thousands of them.
I sit here weeping, singing the song of the
of the ever faithful eastern winds.
There is no one to blame.
RIC S. BASTASA
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1600.
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did you have a sound sleep last night?
out there is snow
inside your room you pretended sleep
i tendered some unsolicited advices
which i stole from the experts
of sleep
i tendered the face of the man
who can sing you the
songs of passion
and love and who can make you
sleep
i tendered an old song of mother
a lullaby
i tendered an ear of father
touching your fingers
i wish i could have been a tributary
of so much sleep for you
the mind
of softness and pillows and
warmer beds
do not believe me, if you only know
i, too, could not sleep last night
your sleeplessness
is also my mess.
RIC S. BASTASA
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