www.PoemsAbout.com

     Home | Contact Us

Poems By Poet RIC S. BASTASA  7/13/2014 5:33:23 AM
Search For Poems & Poets:
POEMS ABOUT
• angel
• beautiful
• daughter
• death
• friend
• girl
• greed
• hero
• home
• hope
• kiss
• life
• lonely
• loss
• lost
• love
• memory
• money
• music
• nature
• night
• power
• rain
• school
• sleep
• soldier
• summer
• sun
• war
 

 

 
  Best Poems From
  RIC S. BASTASA
 
 
<< prev. page

Page: 1 100 200 300 400 500 600 700 750 760 770 780 790 791 792 793 794 795 796 797 798 799 800 801 802 803 804 805 806 807 808 809 810 820 830 840 850 900 1000 1100 1200 1300 1400 1500 1600 1700 1800 1900 2000 2100 2200 2300 2400 2500 2600 2700 2800 2900 3000 3100 3200 3300 3400 3500 3600 3700 3800 3900 4000 4007

next page >>

 
   
 

  3197.     

AT THE PIANO*

Wanting to cleave clearly in the mind the wooden chopping boards of the house into piano keys,
and the long tables of the dining room into some imagined concert:
Do you hear it?
Yes?
Do you not since then not realize this grand scale?
The poor boy is playing a sonata in his head, yes?
Yes.
Now. (Pushed into agreement as if pushed by birth into an empty room without choice and flowers for wallpaper and a mirror kept blind dark in a drawer)
There was a piano, once, in my head.
And a stage.
And the world surprised by what had been found.
Difficult piece: the left hand flying over the right and the air-pedal stepped through and clean to sustain.
And all the world standing behind kitchen counters and the dinner plates waiting for the imagined overture to complete its applause:
If only there was no need to explain.
If only the real thing was as clear and as audible as once the beautiful music.

* Brown beaver in a stream and the grass green
Small girl on a swing and a bird wing
And because he thinks it’s meant to be spring,
he colors the clear edges
of all living things in his piano book-
Where the paw touches sharp the blades
of the green patch
and the bare arm of the blonde girl arcs
her slender reach to the sun.
And old Brahms who lifts his hand in a wave,
even if this is meant to be a slow waltz he’s playing,
and a packed piano concert hall he’s set in where a bright blue blazer’s not the right suit for this true master to wear.
This genuine thing:
Every day before the sun rose,
I dreamt the world already in color.
Ivy on the old wall greener by far
than any I had seen the lush trees
bending some friends hiding behind jars,
sliding doors snuck into the empty cabinets of the garage wanting to be found and: everyone loved.
Wanting to tell the truth, to play it.
Song remembered from somewhere else
and someone else’s mistake:
the bored boy on the waiting couch
knows the girl now playing the piano has no applause in sight. The day could be awash with light!
what colors blind him with the waiting bird on the wing wrap his hands with a song small girl’s swing fill his eyes while he’s playing a fast loud trick of a trill in his head

in what was said to be “with feeling” terrible terrible thing

* All encompassing terror of the grand design
I wanted the great concertos,
the Bach arias.
I wanted: Praise be to God who fashions with his own hands the universe and all of creation out of a deep love for everything without choice.
Without being dramatic.
I wanted the long pause.
I wanted the audience stunned to tears because:
this we have not heard before in the streets this song this beautifully done.
It moves.
It brings us to the edge of our sight.
I am not the light.
I was not even part of its terms of recovery or perfection.
Joy without end without just reward.
Who has not, faced with a sin, said:
I want to be good?
For he hears even our thoughts.
I wanted that silence.
I wanted the huge applause after the silence.



*by L.L.Ypil
 
RIC S. BASTASA
   
 

   
   
 

  3198.     

at the pier

i like that blue bird
that stands only
on one foot

there is this sense
of self-sufficiency
without the other foot

i wonder if it's you
on your
animal life after hating
me all those
years

i like to descend
on that level
if that is the only
change left for me
to tell you once
again
that i was never joking
 
RIC S. BASTASA
   
 

   
   
 

  3199.     

at the Plantation Bay

as the tram roams its way
around the island

my eyes are focused on
the heavy clouds about to give

the much missed rain
the smell of the Italian restaurant undermined

by the chains of thoughts clinking like
chains of the prisoner
 
RIC S. BASTASA
   
 

   
   
 

  3200.     

at the point of saturation

at the point of saturation
the apex
or the pinnacle of your
subliminal wishes
the misspeaking
subconscious
desires

you look back
you move forward
you stare at those
flashes of images
before you

those that you love
most
now lay before you
as unwanted
strangers

no longer pleasing
noneffective
there is no more
affection

at this point you do not know
what to say
you are neither happy nor sad
voila!
you have become one of the
lesser gods

eureka! this is the triumph
of numbness.
 
RIC S. BASTASA
   
 
 
<< prev. page

Page: 1 100 200 300 400 500 600 700 750 760 770 780 790 791 792 793 794 795 796 797 798 799 800 801 802 803 804 805 806 807 808 809 810 820 830 840 850 900 1000 1100 1200 1300 1400 1500 1600 1700 1800 1900 2000 2100 2200 2300 2400 2500 2600 2700 2800 2900 3000 3100 3200 3300 3400 3500 3600 3700 3800 3900 4000 4007

next page >>

 

 
BEST POEMS:  (Click on a topic to list and read the poems)
• angel poems
• 
beautiful poems
• 
death poems
• 
friend poems
• girl poems
• 
home poems
• 
hope poems
• 
kiss poems
• life poems
• 
loss poems
• 
love poems
• 
music poems
• nature poems
• 
rain poems
• 
school poems
• 
sex poems
• soldier poems
• 
summer poems
• 
sun poems
• 
war poems
 
(c) Poems are the property of their respective owners.
All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge.. 
Contact Us | About Us | Copyright notice | Privacy statement

Poems By Poet RIC S. BASTASA