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Best Poems From
RIC S. BASTASA
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2797.
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91
about the ash from Yuri N., she writes it
I once knew
a lady at our church
who played the piano -
Her name was Naomi...
she was quiet,
maybe insignificant...
but I knew her
(only from church) ...
when I heard one Sunday
that she had died
and had been buried
without me knowing,
I grieved for days....
that was 8 years ago...
I still sometimes
think of her,
thinking that,
in some way
she enriched my life -
I cannot remember
her piano-playing,
but I still grieve
nevertheless....
RIC S. BASTASA
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2798.
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92
when i wrote the words i love you i miss you i want you
you will by chance read these ordinary lines that a lover says to another lover faraway,
oh! My God! you really tore your heart out of your chest and threw
on the computer stand when
you write these lines
they are ordinarily said, let me tell you again,
i love you i miss you i want you on my side,
the musings sound like you and i have met and kissed
in the subway
of strangeness as i hold your hands like you are a train bar
so i may not fall away
and die like a stupid bum, but i write lines of love and missing
as i am born to love and miss
those unloved and unfound, what for too is my loneliness
and being messy,
got to go now, you did not tell me your name, and i did not tell mine,
we do not find any importance
about knowing each other at all, we just meet, i say i love you i say
i miss you, and you listen attentively and pretend you like each word,
we recall the rules of our game, for those who believe there is heaven
for those who don't keep your little space of earth,
and live, wiser, cautious, and better adjusted this time,
easy come,
easy go, there is not much pain, there is no bargain, and well
what is the gain?
now you are learning now you are saying when i go away
i miss you i love you i want you and i will not
look back at you, your tongue is so adept in your cheek.
RIC S. BASTASA
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2799.
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93
i like it here
this is my place, insignificant, small,
fleeting even, like a soft breath coming out of my mouth when
i utter the word
you and
i, but you are still confused unable to understand each letter
like chopped string beans so disconnected
from each piece
i understand myself now as intimately as my nose
to my lips to smell and sound touching each other
this moment,
i still say convinced as i am like how the window pane
agrees to entertain a morning chill and then
the light coming,
i still say, i like it here, the view from here,
green mountains hairy with forest trees
rivers running like children in the parks
clouds drifting like butterflies all in the hues of pastel blue
and some scratches of white and gray,
i like the sea here
friendly salt to my tears, i like the gardens here,
so alive with flowers and bees and blades of grass,
i like it here
and i have no plans ever to leave even with you telling me that you love
me till the end of days and nights,
you are lying and there is no sense dying
in the beds of your dreams so far away like
a mythical kingdom.
RIC S. BASTASA
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2800.
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94
compulsive
a tattoo in your body crawling your thoughts
of the past
reflected in the lines of your skin those violent ones
and bloody ink tracing what they did to you when you were
just but a kid,
you cannot stop the tattoo
tattooing you, a matter of obsessive
compulsive body writing,
these too are the makings of depression,
the doctor says, you do it and you want it done, like you cannot stop
tattoo tattooing you,
in your arms,
and legs
and tomorrow your chest
you wish some pictures of God and gods
no, no, not the monsters that you want extricated,
i watch you
in this compulsion and you are relating why,
how,
what
explaining the meanings of these figures when they confront you,
i am listening,
i am not lost, i am analyzing bits and pieces of your world
to mine,
i am amazed how the changes come,
like some scribbles
becoming
angels
and saints,
i am trying to get what the
doctor is saying,
compulsive neurosis
schizophrenia,
obsessive,
dominant
recessive,
i am looking
for a space to put you
and make you my guinea pig,
but i stopped,
you are human and i must respect you,
now, i have to deal with my compulsive state too,
this poetry,
i cannot stop and it is hammering me everyday,
crazy.
RIC S. BASTASA
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