(Cheritas)

1)

At 4am, serenity surrenders to the rooster.

Early risers snap from their slumber,
thinking, the world is on their shoulders.

Eyes close...thoughts for the day gather,
strength is renewed...mind gets sharper
while under the lukewarm shower.
:::::::

2)

Aromatic moments stir the cold sleepy air.

there's hot coffee, frittata and fried frankfurters,
day starts with good food, whatever the weather.

Between work and breaks, we count the hours
of an unpredictable day, til 9-5 pressure is over.
coffee, gardening or wine, undo the day's fetters.
:::::::


sally b

Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

they stuff "yes, no matter what" / "you're always wrong" / "what will people say?" / into a flimsy puppet skin / rigidly moving the strings in one direction / whenever someone comes over / they mount the puppet on the wall / proudly showing off their prized creation.
but when their eyes come to a close / the puppet feels scorching strings on its shoulders / it reaches inside / gutted by what it sees / one by one / it examines each phrase / it takes everything out / replaces it with "no" / "I am not always wrong or right" / "what do I say?" / and slowly snips the strings off its shoulders / so it can walk freely.

Stress is so heavy
On my shoulders and my mind
Weighing thoughts down

I did not mean to make mistakes
Feel defeated at each turn
Getting weighed down by missed opportunities
Heaviest those which will not return
Thinking back to simpler times
I miss smiles we couldn't control
Wishing it could be that easy again
But it's hard when we are not quite whole
Each day weakens my tired shoulders
Vision clouded by permanent haze
Walking in circles
Bones aching with fear
Just trying to get out of this maze

How do broad shoulders
bare the weight of what
     we carry to the grave,
and how do we gauge
    the weight of
    what never was?

They say we simply
need to share
to speak,
but I know not one man
that can shine a torch
on his own demon,
let alone name It.

So They start to circle
as bones no longer
Creak but Crack
and broad shoulders start
learn the pain of growing older
and like demons
make for
fine friends.

If
the eyes are the window
through which we can look
into the soul,
Then let words serve
as a souls outstretched arms
and when we look in let us see
that in yours are a shield,
and mine a sword,

Then let you block and bash
as I swing and slash
that not one more man may fall
and broad shoulders need bare
nothing at all.