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Poems By Poet RIC S. BASTASA  7/28/2014 11:23:56 AM
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  RIC S. BASTASA
 
 
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  2797.     

a letter from a writer searching for her soul and wanting to feel not with her hands

Hello (to whom it may concern) ,

It's been awhile since we exchanged messages. Sorry, I'm not much of an |'onliner' these days. I resigned from my job. I'm, in the process of soul searching. Funny but I don't really know why I'm looking for a soul, my soul, when I cannot even see it. I'm on an unplanned vacation in some quaint town some miles outside the city while writing this email.

I guess I never had the chance to tell you how you took the glint from my eye. To write from the soul and not for the awards. I have overlook that writing is an Art. Thus it is priceless. A gold medal does not define you as an artist. Write until it ceases to become a craft.But more than just stringing words after words, conscious of your weary grammar, punctuations, right words, and subject matter. To write is to turn your heart inside out.

Beyond 'writing' and its technical definitions, it is actually a journey - a self surrender - towards the oblivion you are willing to traverse with your pen. And you find yourself in another state.

To write is to 'see' but not with your eyes. To 'feel' but not with your hands. And at the end of it all, you know that it's there. Writing takes over you. Thus, I often wonder: am i writing with the pen? Or is it the pen using me to write? But I know somewhere deep inside, there is a thing mightier than the pen that prompts me to write. And that is the soul.

I want to find my center. My creative process in writing. Ironic, but to find it, I must loose myself.


hahahahaha. whew. I know i sound stupid. Sorry. Thanks for bearing with me. Hope it's not too late to greet you a Happy New Year! ! ! ! =)


Always,
(name witheld, but this could be you)
 
RIC S. BASTASA
   
 

   
   
 

  2798.     

a letter from Patty and Ray

It is time for us to leave San Diego
and head back to Portland
starting on Valentines Day.

I hear it has been snowing in Portland,
I guess that rules out outdoor yoga classes.
That doesn’t sound good compared
to San Diego where it is usually sunny
and the activities included yoga,
aerobics, tennis, biking to shop,
kayaking, and fish tacos.

We have a great spot here
at Campland with a water view out front.
It is much nicer
than last year because
no one is occupying
the spots on either side of us.

We brought nicer bikes
with big baskets and racks for groceries.
The motor home only moved
once since we arrived
and all our activities
have been via bike or kayak.

When we first arrived
I hooked two ten foot sewage hoses
together and the connection failed.

We had sewage everywhere.
We called the hazmat team
but by the time
they got here the ducks had eaten
what Ray and I didn’t clean up
with newspapers.

The ducks are everywhere
and I find it annoying stepping
around duck poop.

Ray likes their personality
but I only see the poop..

Vancouver Bob came to visit us.
We had fun searching
Pacific Beach for a house
he lived in fifty years ago.


He brought the rain with him
and we realized the motor home
gets smaller in bad weather
and with each person.
Overall it has been
the best weather
I’ve ever seen in San Diego.

Ray enjoyed golfing with Bob Perry
two or three times each week.
His other golf buddy,
Malcolm died last year.

Foxy is quite the character on drugs.
She thinks she’s super dog jumping in
and out of the motor home.
Her legs fail
so we lift her now against her will.
She loves sunrise
and sunset walks on the beach
as well as begging for drugs.

Sorry this letter is so boring,
but such is life.

Hope you all have a great valentines day.
 
RIC S. BASTASA
   
 

   
   
 

  2799.     

a lie to lie

you whisper a lie
to a friend
and instructs him
to keep it
as a secret and
the same
procedure is repeated
from ear to
ear
from mouth to mouth
from cell phone
to cell phone
and wait
till tomorrow morning
the lie knocks
at your door and
it introduces
its name to you
and its
background
how it came into
being

you are amazed
and you shake
its hand
and hug it
and you give it
a new name
the truth
they all believe
in
without doubt

now mind you
why do you complain
that you are maligned?
 
RIC S. BASTASA
   
 

   
   
 

  2800.     

A Life in Compromises

there is this subsumed
self that is reserved for a misinterpretation

that which must be tolerated
otherwise the personality breaks into
pieces

multi-sided, and can be dangerous
what it needs is just a little time

perhaps a minute for it to exist
the rest must cooperate because

though minute, it can destroy the eye
give it time, give it what it deserves

then go back to the strong self that
you introduce and keep

the days have many hours
like a merry-go-round take a cycle

life is always a compromise
for without it, the ward opens.
 
RIC S. BASTASA
   
 
 
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Poems By Poet RIC S. BASTASA