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Poems By Poet RIC S. BASTASA  7/25/2014 3:33:53 PM
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  RIC S. BASTASA
 
 
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  3197.     

actually some poems are not meant to be understood

forgive me but my poems are not meant to be understood
they are simply meant to be felt
like silk to your hands
just let the feeling slide and it is complete

it is just like a description of something that suddenly passed
you think it is a ghost but it is not
it is just the hush of a wind and it is not driving any point at all

if it refreshes you without thinking of anything at all
and gives you a certain lightness
like you have wings yourself
then the poem has become a poem

it is not meant to be an idea just something
magical and please do not hold it
it is simply meant
to pass and not stay like the wind and the river and
my soul
 
RIC S. BASTASA
   
 

   
   
 

  3198.     

actually, there is still no one there....

it is when all of you
had left
this room when i am finally alone
that i
feel what departure must be

departure is synonymous with
loneliness

when it begins stabbing your peace
distance is prolonged

it is light embracing finally
the tunnel of darkness

you hear a tinkering bell
from a saffron monk

you peep from a leak of this
structure

still, there is no one there.
 
RIC S. BASTASA
   
 

   
   
 

  3199.     

actually...

i am having a hard time
getting inside your life
like a house fenced and
barbed wired
and i am like a dog waiting
outside
beside your steel gate
waiting
even if it rains.
 
RIC S. BASTASA
   
 

   
   
 

  3200.     

actually.......

actually
who wants ever to be a silent wall?
there are windows in us
that still beg for the
wind to
speak our sorrow
and we want
to hear the sound of
of a vibrant
existence
we want still to hear
the song
even if it be the sonorous
lyrics of
a bewildered wingless bird
or a boneless
kite

most of the time
the busy lanes do not have
a parking space
and cars go on a rampage
for collisions

actually
most feet want to stop walking
and ponder upon
nails

hands look for hair to caress
but heads have crazy thoughts
for their own days
to eat

there are no more directions
where home can be found
confetti fall from the tallest
building
and those who look up
from below
mistake the same as
another celebration
 
RIC S. BASTASA
   
 
 
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Poems By Poet RIC S. BASTASA