Best Bas Poems
POTD 27 Sept 2023
~LOVE SAID ~
"Go find her, set her free."
In my search, I found an array of colourful petals,
An abundance of aromatic aromas.
Each one, I hydrated with my blood and tears,
But each one pricked me with their thorns.
Fatigued ~ pondering an end to my quest,
I prepared for a life without a petal of my own.
A voice whispered ~
"Look this way."
And there you were
Glimmering under twilight's delight,
So I planted you in my heart,
So you can blossom in an ocean of love...
by The Silent One
And Maria Williams
French Lyric translation
Quand il me prend dans ses bras
(When he takes me in his arms)
Il me parle de tout bas
(he speaks to me softly)
Je vois la vie en rose
(I see life in pink)
Every time you kiss me, Heaven sighs
Il me dit des mots d'amour
(he tells me words of love)
Don't know why
Des mots de tous les jours
(everyday words)
I close my eyes
Et ça m'fait quelque chose
(and it touches me)
If only you would
Give your heart and soul to me
And life will always be
La vie en rose
(The life in pink)
Some amazing talents come together here.
Thank you Silent One for your collaboration with me on this creative poem.
Ron Williams, for video direction and composition, which we put together.
And to David Luke for his excellent narration.
Attributions:
Lyrics by Edith Piaf
Music and vocal:
Michael Bublé & (feat. Cécile McLorin Salvant)
Album La vie en rose
Licenced by You tube
Categories:
bas, dedication, feelings, love, sensual,
Form:
Free verse
"Yesterday, seems so far away"
and so different from today
As we look in rose-colored mist
where memories fondly exist
Alas, the truth so often lies
Hidden deeply in clouded skies
Or, painted as a golden leaf
A somewhat truth in Bas Relief
Categories:
bas, angst, conflict, truth, youth,
Form:
Lay
English Rhyming Translation
© Krishika Upadhyay | 2025
I’m breaking down, in lashes' shade,
In silent dreams, I wish I stayed.
I try to rise, on roads that smile,
But thorns have gripped my feet a while.
Yes, thorns are biting where I tread,
And tears now rest where sleep once spread.
It feels I’ll shatter, fade away,
Or lose myself in you someday.
I wish to hold you, cry a bit,
Release this poison where it sits.
But prayers alone can’t bring Him near,
And you no longer call me dear.
I sway between the calm and storm,
In memories where you stay warm.
I’ve lost my patience, lost my grace,
But still I crave your lost embrace.
And what to do? You never call.
Since you have gone, I bear it all.
This world’s turned hot like ruthless noon,
My face...a wilted, silent moon.
There’s no more joy I hold within,
Just dreams of you beneath my skin.
And how could smiles be mine again,
When what I lost was love... not pain?
I’ve said I’m shattered ...will you care?
To gather all my pieces there?
But deep inside, I truly know
You’ll break me once more, soft and slow.
Hindi~
"Main Bikhar Ke Bhi Tera Hi Raha"
(Even in Pieces, I Stayed Yours)
Bigad raha hun ,
Ki palkon ki chaav main doob jaaun
Sudhar raha hun ,
Ki muskurati raahon main nikal aaun
Par paanv m kaate lag rahe hain
Par paanv m kaate lag rahe hain
Kuch aansun aankhon m aate lg rahe hain
Lag rha hai bikhar jaaun yahin
Tujmain bas jaaun kahi
Tujhe baahon mai bhar rolun zara
Utarlun woh jehar jo h dil m bhara
Par ibaadat se.
Par ,ibaadat se khuda aata nahi
Tu mujhe pehle ki trh , ab bulata nhi
Bohot sehma , suljha , behaka rehta hun
Teri yaadon main mehaka rehta hun
Mujhko toh ab sabr aata nhi hai
Mujhko,
Toh ab sabr aata nhi hai
Par kya karun,
Tu ab mujhe bulata nhi hai
Tere jaane ke baad sab dhoop sa hai
Murjhaya hua mera roop sa h
Aur nhi h koi khusi mujhmai ,magar sapna hai
Aur nhi h koi khusi mujhmai magar ,sapna hai
Aur hogi bhi kese , jo maine khoya woh mera apna h
Ab bta diya ki bikhra hun , toh samet lena mujhe
Pr mujhe pta h , tu pyaar jatakar , dobara bikher dega mujhe
Categories:
bas, care, destiny, feelings, first
Form:
Rhyme
A moment...
Only a moment, lost
forever.
Love I knew, like angels soaring on diaphanous wings through gently weeping clouds,
then searing hate filled burning anger,
my soul set afire with scorching embers and blue flames,
the pain melting my body into puddles filled by dripping sorrow and blocks of icy resentment.
This I felt,
in that... moment,
I died inside.
The feeling of a thousand millipedes crawling over my skin made it tingle. My legs like pudding dangled from my numbed body as if they were made of dough. I had to sit before I fell.
My strong heart beating for you
stopped...
for a moment.
Like Kodachrome images tattooed in vivid color on bas-relief sculptures in my memory,
I could taste the bitter sadness and disappointment in your eyes
the moment...
you
left.
10/29/15
Categories:
bas, lost love,
Form:
Free verse
Logon ko ekjut kar raha tha, kabhi socha na tha.
‘Missile’ udaane chala,
Logon ko ek misaal de raha tha, kabhi socha na tha.
Daudta chala, girta chala, sambhalta chala, phir udta chala.
Akela chala jaa raha tha,
Karodon log mere saath chalne lagenge, kabhi socha na tha.
Main bas kuch lafz bol raha tha,
Log use kuraan maan baithenge, kabhi socha na tha.
Aankhen band kar aakhri saansein gin raha tha,
Kuch ummeed bhari aankho ko aansuon se bhar chala jaa raha tha, kabhi socha na tha, kabhi socha na tha.
- Srujana Satyavada
follow my blog on twosoulfuls.wordpress.com
Categories:
bas, cry, grief, hindi, inspiration,
Form:
ABC
"Zindagi bhr ka bas itna sa fasana hay,
Aaj nhi to kal hamain bhi chale jaana hay,
Talkh zindagi ke samandar main beh kar,
Hamain akhir main kinare se lag jaana hay,
Ye jo sooraj hay, har roz nai zindagi jeeta hay,
Ise bhi har sham maghrib main dhal jaana hay,
Saansain jitni hay jee lo maze lekar,
Akhir main sab ki saanson ko thum jaana hay,
Sharqi sare mosam tujhe yaaad krte hain,
Teri tarah hume bhi ye jism chor jaana hay....!
Categories:
bas, death,
Form:
Nazm
Kal raat chandani thi, mousam mein nami thi
halki si woh barsaat or barf jami thi
Per raas na aya azhar woh nazara
Mai tha, meri tanhaayi, bas teri kami thi
Categories:
bas, love, romantic,
Form:
Ghazal
============================
I sat one evening in the park
upon a bench I thought my own
but as the dusk got down to dark,
I realized I was not alone
I hadn't seen from where he'd come
or got a strong look at his face
but he was there, green as a plumb
where had so long been empty space
He beamed a right polite 'Good day!'
but when I made to shake his hand,
he seemed from sight to fade away
like seaside foam into the sand
Then, as I stared in disbelief
down at the empty wooden seat,
his silhouette in bas-relief
appeared again, from head to feet!
I found this process very strange
but he explained as best he could,
he hadn't left, he'd only changed
his coloring to match the wood
We chatted when my wits returned,
his pattern shifting now and then.
He was a reptile, soon I learned
and called himself 'Cha-me-le-on'
As topics changed, I noticed that
his coloration changed in kind
and I could tell, throughout our chat,
exactly what was on his mind
Now, poker is my favorite sport,
I rake in fortunes with the card,
in part, because those of his sort
make taking babies candy hard
At that, I left but told my name
and address and the time of day
that I was next to hold a game,
inviting him to come and play
Game day arrived and he was there
but came in late to join the fun
and though he dived into his chair,
the show already had begun
I poured a scotch and dealt him in,
explaining how a hand was played,
then sat where I could watch his skin
and witness any change it made
Then he allowed us all to see,
a wealth bound tightly in a wad
that, awed, I vowed eventually,
would come round to myself, by God!
A patsy if there'd ever been,
I got him taught as best I could
but plotting, thought, "If this is sin,
then please, don't ask me to be good!"
In my delight, I failed to spot,
until the night progressed a pace,
my guest caught every other pot
with not one hint wrought on his face
and as he smiled, I realized
that though my friend no clue had shown,
I'd bet you twenty mint that I'd
supplied him plenty of my own!
Thus, Lizards Poker isn't fun
and you must hold your empty seats
if you meet old Cha-me-le-on...
He's just cold-blooded, plus - he CHEATS!
============================
Categories:
bas, animal, funny, games, humor,
Form:
Rhyme
Kya batau kese batau
Ki kya mushkile he
Bas itna samajhlo tum
Ki mustakbil gardish me he
Mene saha kese saha
Ki kya halat the wo
Bas tum itna Jaan lo
Ki Jung ab tabish se he
Me jeeyu ese jeeyu
Ki kya majbooriyan thi
Tumko bas itna ilm ho
Taare mere jumbish me he
Me kahu jese kahu
Ki kya me tujhe batalau
sun le tu khajaalat se
ki me ab khalish me hu
Categories:
bas, conflict, hindi, life, pain,
Form:
Light Verse
Countless generations lapsed since height of Greco-Roman mythology conceived, birthed and populated vast canopy of sky and expanse of terrestrial firmament, whereat obeisant propinquity quintessentially remains stalwart this day and age as guise dolls dote demonstrably come Valentine’s Day, when Cupid plucked from the quiver, notched in bowstring and launched Eros tinged arrow induces love struck swain to swoon upon a lassie fair, whence fecund female feast proliferates progeny.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
bona fide hormonal hankering didst since Adam and Eve a wake
aromatic, balmy, and captivating as effect from drinking sassafras
kin powerful pulsations viz diving rod erect phallus
creating con fusion pro bono er to enter lips engorged mass
Pussy swathed qua tangle of coiled, kinked, and thatched course grass
Willy wonka with vestal virgin hair line gonadal zone **** embarrass
twig and berries rutting, rusticating, routing and romancing intent
to deflower re: piercing hymen
with nary immune to perdition or déclassé
hello kitty edenic tropic of cancer coital compass
emitting pheromones culling asper a bong
clapping banging brass
intractable supremacy reproductive sport
waging whore with contemporary take
verboten fruit sexual pang thrust forward
omnipotent magnetic thirst to slake
unstoppable passions flared unfazed as annals
depict how hot coals feet did rake
despite hollow religious strictures obloquy,
the serum filled genitals did quake
infiltrate historical manifestations, naked humans
prey zing clear or opaque
deities of yesteryear demonstrable
bas relief showers copulation doth make
primal urges imbued *****sapiens
e’er since first man saw lady of the lake
triggering libidinal longing inducing salivation sans love struck drake
multi-tiered mouth watering orgasmic gastronomic carnal cake
Aphrodite spellbinding storied sport thrives inducing heart break
imbuing human guys gals feverish enthralled dizzy catnip behoove ache.
Categories:
bas, adventure, age, animal, body,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
Blasphemy
The caustic tongues of the evangelists,
Across all creeds and faiths,
Seem as brittle as an old bone.
For they promise heaven and they spew forth threats of hell
While neglecting the words of that man who walked in Galilee
'let him who is without sin, cast the first stone'
the caustic tongues of the evangelists...
across all religions
new-age and the ones of old
baffle me even as I hear
a single simplistic sermon
for they really do, view us all
as blind imbeciles
scurrying around like faithless vermin
the caustic tongues of the evangelists...
wag on and dazzle us with visions of an eternal paradise
while here and now
their hypocrisy festers
within their earnest
well-meaning eyes...
'...dil mein hai khwaaish-e-hoor-o-jannat
aur zaahir mein shauk-e-ibaadat
bas hamen sheikh-ji aap jaise
allah-waalon se allah bachaaye...'
'...in your heart you desire the maidens of heaven
yet in the now you practice the rituals of piety
o' sheikh, may allah protect me
from the people of allah like yourself...'
is my tongue as caustic as the tongues I write about?
if so, then glad am I
for they shouldn't be the only ones
who preach and rant and continually shout
from their pulpits ever so high in the sky
from their hubris of comfort in possessing the 'truth'
from their 'knowing' that heaven or hell
awaits both the strong as well as the meek
while oblivious to the reeking foul smell
that encourages prejudice and hate
and visions not of peace
but of endless chants and prayers
which they, in their opium haze
rattle on and on
as they never seem to cease to speak
and though I’m sure that all this bile that I have spewed
will threaten
hurt
and offend
friend and
unfriend and
acquaintance alike
but...
take pity on me instead
for it'll surely be I
who'll burn eternally
impaled by a benevolent god
on a slightly warmer than normal day in hell
on a crude wooden spike.
Categories:
bas, allah, christian, forgiveness, hate,
Form:
Translation of Eric Mottram’s A Faithful Private 5 Homage to Humphrey Jennings by T. Wignesan
for Elaine Randell
à quoi sert le talent
si l’aire la mer et la terre
pollués les eaux coulent passant un peuple
qui n’a pas
l’intention de vivre
la-bas où la pelouse
est enlevée afin de libérer d’espace
pour un homme pour qu’il augmente
son espace pendant la période
de la guerre Les feus furent allumés
un travail par un homme dans une génération livrée
au loisir sans ressentir la culpabilité:
la façon qu’ils menèrent leur vie
c'est comme ça que la revolution
commence: la pollution alors
n'aviez pas d’origine
dans leur têtes:
ils se livraient à la peinture à la rame aux chansons
réalisaient des films pour le bureau central de la Poste:
une personne parmi eux entreprit une direction
en s’observant le geste
arrêté en mouvance arrêté
en se tournant sur lui même lequel devient un talent
des hommes et des femmes dans
l'aire la mer et la terre devenus
un gros danger pour la vie à cause des armes
l'exactitude contre l’exactitude
pour la survie voulue:
l’insanité arrive
avec la marée haute et basse
les ruisseaux qui coulent
loins à l’intérieur resistant
l'exploitation de cette grotesque
minérale conquise
la lune comme un homme
autrefois plongée dans des eaux
pour le choral blanc
dans des sables dorés
nageait dans une trance
le long d’un lit de la mer:
puis les hommes du parage
m'avait dit que cet endroit de la mer
fut choisi par les requins pour reproduire
venus d’autres lointaines mers
aux eaux peu profondes
où ils circulaient autour d’eux-même en amoureux:
à quoi bon
d'expérimenter ce frémissement
Involontaire
pendant qu’on fixe les yeux sur l’eau limpide:
ne pas penser
de soi-même
sans un besoin exigeant
(c) T. Wignesan - Paris, 2017
Categories:
bas, ocean, pollution, sea,
Form:
Free verse
Aarmano Se JAn CHooti
Ghamo ne Aan Ghera ha
Kia mere DIl pe Bas
Sirf Tanhaiyo ka Basera ha
Categories:
bas, age, anniversary, autumn, birth,
Form:
ABC
Two sides of the same coin – the good and bad;
the dark and light; the yin and yang combined.
My future self, the history I’ve had.
My soul - the fulcrum of my heart and mind.
My friends believe that I’m too sensitive –
too hurt by words. But that same trait in me;
perceiving needs, entices me to give
to those same friends, who thank me graciously.
‘You’re patient to a fault’ – guilty as charged!
I wait till ancient plumbing floods my floor.
But when your sense of outrage gets enlarged,
you grasp what all that patience is here for.
Virtue and vice in bas relief I deem –
the winter’s frost becomes the summer’s stream.
Categories:
bas, giving, self, summer, winter,
Form:
Sonnet
Lying in bed, the light of my computer bright
against the still images slowly changing on the silent TV across the room.
Despoiling the image,
nine seventeen, pm
stands out on the bottom of the screen.
My tired head resting from the day's turmoil, unthinking,
unfocused.
In front of me I find myself back on some poetry page.
It appears to be a contest.
Yeah, me writing poetry, much less entering a contest,
what a joke.
I reach over and slip my headphones on,
“All I Ask of You,” from Phantom of the Opera is playing.
The room is dark. The room is quiet.
In the dimness on the wall in front of me
I glimpse a surreal painting my daughter painted.
The lower portion, that of a young woman,
changing to trees and clouds and blue sky.
No eyes to see.
The images imagined in her mind.
In the dimness the homemade gesso,
creating Bas-relief against the canvas, is imagined in mine.
The dark wooden frame stands stark against the rose grey wall,
the matted canvas surrounded by white.
Only sixteen and able to create such
mystery, such allure.
Ellen Greene,
“Stop and See Me,”
such sadness and longing in her voice.
Her giclee print smiling at me to my right, she was eight,
her older sister's, at age three, frames the large window.
Strong and independent, she makes me so proud.
She will likely be moving out soon.
I don't want to think about that.
“Run Away with Me,” Michael Arden,
I lose myself in the music,
“Evermore,” from Beauty and the Beast
(the Josh Groben version).
Loud and all encompassing,
surrounding me in another world,
letting free my emotions, calming my mood,
“I Dreamed a Dream,” Ramin Karimloo,
what's that sound?
I remove my headphones.
It's the dog.
OK, Oliver, I'll take you out.
I turn off the music.
On the screen I see
eleven forty-six, pm.
So much work I've neglected for tomorrow.
07/07/2018
Categories:
bas, time,
Form:
Free verse