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Best Poems From
RIC S. BASTASA
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10801.
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sleep mode
the hands clench,
make a shape of a beautiful fist
but do not strike
lay themselves down on the
table of wood
beside a lemonade
and then put themselves
in a sleep mode
fed up for the day
with wars on TV
about the struggle for
democracy
RIC S. BASTASA
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10802.
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sleeping
it is alright really to sleep for a while
for a day, or even for the whole week,
if that is what you really want.
do you really like to take the much needed sleep?
just asking you from the bottom of my heart.
you may. you must if you really need it.
you must if you really feel like doing it.
you may finally decide to die.
it is your life. you wear the desired shoes.
you take the color that you intend.
it too, shall be your chosen death.
we may mourn, but you know that we too have our own concerns.
we cannot mourn for that long.
we have our journeys too.
our own battles, and when you lay there, a dead man on the street
as we rush, we may forget to bury you.
it is time that you too must learn to bury yourself.
it goes naturally, as a consequence of your learning how to die.
as others still fight to get their last breath
you take the plunge.
into that darkness, into that emptiness.
meanwhile, this saturday, we are set to go on a picnic.
under the blue clouds, we may talk about you.
i am not sure really. perhaps. maybe.
do not blame us. we have chosen life.
we also know how to forgive and then forget.
RIC S. BASTASA
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10803.
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sleeping one night under the cover of the sky
lost i finally find myself
on tired feet
beside a jagged ridge
where its tip
almost touches the
night sky
beside the handful of
stars
and then i lie down
my head facing up
the widest space of my
life
i feel the emptiness
wrap my head and
body
and i feel the wondrous
power of
God all over me
awed am i
and now on top of the world
i hear the hush of the wind
whispering finally
that with the stars
all around me
i am never alone.
RIC S. BASTASA
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10804.
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sleeping time
when their eyes
become sleepy like
falling leaves
of the evening wind
like windows
closing
like lights being turned
off from
a distance
i become a bag egg
refusing to crack
as others wait
what is inside the
shell
i sort of close my door
and continue
what i do and
never stop doing it.
you know what i mean
as you are
following what i am
doing now.
i am not alone in
this
for you are here with
me
doing the thing
that you cannot stop
doing.
i know what you mean
and i know
what you are up
to
what you are at
what you want to do
till darkness cracks
to a morning
slit of light.
you know me now
for i do
what you do
too.
RIC S. BASTASA
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