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I shall betray you

I shall betray you, you only said,
because life is a lone roses bed,
weaved upon canvass grid.

The leaves turn yellow you only said,
because the garlands away fade,
adornment hung - on lonely door.

Arrows of thoughts, define my quill
destined to leave, scared and still,
a celestial hue, a coastal shore.

Without units in a quest, a sole role,
a glassy dome, my soul's extol,
in dark your glances mead.

poem by Giorgio Veneto
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It Is This Freedom

the air
serves the medium for freedom
it is the canvass
for a painting of red wings
against the peace
that the sky blue provides
there is no black string
that binds
us to the poles
we are free and then
we leave
towards the journey
of what we do not yet know
there are no palpitations of
the wrist of fear
what we have is just this
daily lookout
towards a universe
hidden beneath
the black holes of our

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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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What To Do, Do Quickly...

on the lean years of our affections
the dreams have drawn for us
on that piece of sleep
this canvass of the night frame
twelve emaciated cows grazing on
the desert

what shall we do? if you still have your eyes with
you
kept in those sunken sockets
open them
slowly

the sage of Femagas has given you the most practical
prognosis
you are asleep and all you need to do is wake up
you still have 24 hours
of regret.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Red Skies

that afternoon the skies are red
as tulips
the emotions however are like
stones
gray and dry

the world is sac-like

and one wonders
if music as a harmony
within the heart of
solitude
can still jibe

come to think about it
the active element
is still you

work it out then like
a piece of art

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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The way he paints the sun and the trees

He paints the sun in black bold colors
Flaming in black smoke and the trees
Are tiny and thin all in black like
Charred sticks from a huge fire
He did not place people in the landscape
The black rays are like the hands of octopuses
Crawling and perhaps eating the landscape
I look at his eyes, they are all red
Blood spurting out from his capillaries
With this huge fire of anger
Burning the painting the canvass ashed.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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This Is Poetry

leaves of jack fruit
like operatic singers
their lips singing the
song of the wind

sun, moon, and stars
steady not on your canvass

rivers flowing and when
you touch them they
are real.They wet you.

not the cheese inside
the toilet bowl
not the sound of flushes
not the odor that kills
the sensibility of
art and beauty

not spoons on poos

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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Big White Petals On White Sands

big white petals falling
on white sands

try to find out the reason
which one is which
white against white

you find a canvass
where nothing can be found
except the white silence
amidst another white silence

and true you find nothing
you think there is something there
you smile because somehow
you begin to understand
about this labyrinth that you are in
that you think you cannot escape

until you accept the truth

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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Big White Petals On White Sands In Boracay

big white petals falling
on white sands

try to find out the reason
which one is which
white against white

you find a canvass
where nothing can be found
except the white silence
amidst another white silence

and true you find nothing
you think there is something there
you smile because somehow
you begin to understand
about this labyrinth that you are in
that you think you cannot escape

until you accept the truth

[...] Read more

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Winter

Shadows stretch long upon frosty earth,
The warming kiss of the sun a distant memory,
Darkness has become master of day,
Coldness smothers all living things,
Creeping up, suffocating, crushing all of life,
Ever friendless cold engulfing, killing all,
The canvass of life cleansed for another season,
Until the pallette of spring shines once more,
Painting as ever her beautiful portrait,
And all of life shall begin anew...

Spread the love... The peace will follow...

poem by Cosmic Dreamer
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Lighter Shades Of Blue, Green And Brown

soon the flower puffs
and spreads the softness of its seeds
this wisp of the winds
this call of the ground
to perpetuate life
to kill the ugliness of death
to resurrect the hope of the grasses
the ideals of the flowers
leaves dissolve like watercolor dampness
in the canvass of life
so soft, soft green meadows
pastel woodlands
light green horizons spreading
diffusing against the fading light of dusk
meeting once again
the blueness of the skies
like baby's breath to mother
lips kissing meeting
in the cradle.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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