Quotes about carabao, page 2
The Progress In The City
life was so simple
then: papa plowed the field
mama cooked sweet potatoes
water was inside a bamboo pole
plates were banana leaves
we rode on carabao backs
picnicked on nearby rivers
climbed coconut trees
no one minded us
whether we were right or wrong
we were happier then
then everything changed.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Concerning Your Public Confession
that public confession
was more pubic
lots of kinky hair
and grossly
irritating and you ask
me if now
i must devour you
my sensibility is
touched like a
makahiya plant
in the ricefield
stepped by the
carabao's hope
let me tell you
babes
i'd rather be
[...] Read more
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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At The Beach On A Sunday Morning
this is an isolated place
the coconut trees are growing uninterrupted
by the talisay trees long ago cut by papa
fenced by barbed wires and planted with carabao grass
this is one thing that sometimes i miss in my life
the molave gate is left open
for the caretaker knows that i am coming
to spend my sunday here...
i told them that i prefer being alone this time.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Life Is So Beautiful
i step out as the door opens
the rain just stop its downpour
it is cold and the flowers are wet
and the grass glisten with drops
of water on its blade
the red rooster jumps from a tree
and flirts with a gray hen
i look to the sky and then
around the nearby hills
some birds fly towards the trees
a carabao grazes on the plain
deep within me i still want
more years, more years.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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the Filipino Poem 1
As written by Bimboy a grade two pupil in
Olingan elementary school section sampaguita:
The sun comes to my barrio this morning
It peeps between two hills and on the side
Is our nipa hut and on the ricefield my father
Pasturing the carabao while mother cooks the
Mudfish in the kitchen while my sister looks
Out the window and waives at me who is
Holding this pen writing this poem on paper.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Excerpt: The Magma
the natives are smelling so badly
saliva dries on their lips
they rub carabao manure on their bodies
and put
a dead beetle on their navels
there is no water in the river where they come from
it was taken by thirsty fish towards the
China sea
they are thin
i mean their children who only eat
buds of
the guava tree
their stomachs are filled with air
their
hairs with lice
i guess you know when this happens
[...] Read more
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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To A Woman That I Think I Know
tonight
i shall climb the old mango tree
that papa planted
when i was still too young
to understand
the fading of the moon
i shall cling to one of its strong branches
but due to my weight
it shall crack and given in and fall
i shall fall with it
straight to the mud hole
where papa's carabao
is wallowing
then i shall ride upon its back
hold its tail
and it shall run towards
a creek
[...] Read more
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A New Haircut
all i need today is a new haircut
my thick hair is covering my head
and i do not really like it
like a carabao dung
it is giving me a certain feeling of a hat
a buri hat with lots of protruding fibers
untrimmed
what do i need a hat for?
when there is no rain
when there is no sun
when there is no
heavy debris falling on me
i just wanna be free
i want my brain open
washed by the rain
bleached by the sun
[...] Read more
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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No One Demands
... that there must be respect
to the wings of a fly, a mere fly
on top of a garbage
from your kitchen,
that there must be respect
to a leaf of a mahogany
on a permission to take it
away from a twig,
that there must be respect
for the handful of water that
you drink from the river,
that there must be respect
for the porcupine fish
from the bottom of the sea
even if it's form be
hateful,
[...] Read more
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Filipino Poem 2
As written by Bimboy a high school student
At St. Vincent’s College in Dipolog City section Einstein:
The sun rises in my little barrio in Olingan
And sits on two hill where our nipa hut lies
The sun is like a handsome face looking
At two hills like the twin plump breasts of a
Beautiful maiden and his sunrays are like
Fingers lovingly caressing them with too much
Warmth the coconuts, yes, the coconuts like nipples
Spread on the hillsides and his tongue licks them
his mouth sucking them these young coconuts
while my papa Leads the carabao to a mudhole to wallow
While my mother takes some hot chilis for viand
My sister is not there on the window she
Eloped with her boyfriend so you can find
Nobody looking out the window of the hut.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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