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 Jul 2015 Clodagh
Chris
~

A dark cloud,
not angry, just an
early morning formation,
a soft pink hue
on its fluffy underbelly,
is just now waking up
as it floats by

I gaze past
the light gray atmosphere
of this new dawn
to a place where the sun
is already shining,
where skies are blue
and crystal clear

And as my sun
happily rises, I imagine
your smile now glowing
on this buttermilk horizon,
illuminating every dark cloud
to once again make this
*a beautiful day
Good morning Beautiful
 Jul 2015 Clodagh
Doofinity
As I lay me down for sleep,
Know my vow I said I'd keep...

When grim of dream
comes seeping in
And cruelest monsters
scratch my skin
I shall seek safety
I've found in you
Shielded by a love
so sweet and true
I promise to fight
the vexatious dark
And find myself calm
with nary a mark.

So peaceful sleep, please find me now
I close my eyes, heart holding vow
 Jul 2015 Clodagh
Sally A Bayan
(Early Mornings)


It is 4:10 AM
Here i am, facing you...
Haven't showered...haven't brushed...haven't gurgled
Too early to look...but, i could not resist seeing
This person with disheveled hair
Eyes are not too willing to open
Avoiding the uncertainty surfacing...slowly but surely
Making itself known, this morning so early...
An empty shell, is what i could see
A looming nonentity...

No coffee yet, but, the eyes already speak
You don't answer, your looks are so bleak
That is how you tell me i am  stubborn
But i've been this way since birth...so torn
You tell me, i am just in denial
In front of you, it is like, i am on trial
But, i am just a mortal
Maybe we are both tired
How can we ever go back to being inspired?
Maybe you'd rather shatter into pieces...like i would,
I'd carefully gather your shards...would you gather mine, if you could?

Now, later, tonight, tomorrow...we always face each other
There are days, when i look at you, you make me smile, i feel better!
But, most times, i hate the reflections, they make me glare
And i so despise the thoughts that ensue...i counter your stare
..... I close my eyes, with a plea,
A blink could not erase, the images that i see..

I have never wanted separation
And yet, Fate brought me here, in isolation
You're my silent pal...my silent witness
You say nothing when i become senseless
I leave you in the morning
I come home from work in the evening
And i find you still here... on this wall
Welcoming me home...where i just sit, or stall
Faint jazzy sounds comfort me
A few hours rest...late at night...i sleep...i am free
Then, again, the alarm ruins the stillness of the moment
Robs the dawn of its precious silence
And i rise...to drown anew in despondency...in self pity,
Or is this lunacy?
All i see is gray...and black
Be it dawn...or dusk.

If  ever i surrender
I'd be swamped with the stark truth, the reflections you offer
...this can't be a facade,
...in front of you, it's just too bad

I am

U n m a s k e d...

....I am weak, powerless...i crawl
Over and over, i struggle not to fall,
Over and over, i  look at you... but, just the same..i fall.

         (January 22, 2015)


Sally

Copyright May 2015
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
*** Depressing old notes......no happy endings here...
      I heard, and wrote someone else's thoughts... never thought I would find myself in some situations within...***
 Jul 2015 Clodagh
Don Bouchard
I'd suffer four long years
Before I set a letter on the page...
I'd sob a hundred times,
Waking from repeated dreams of you,
The daughter I have lost,
Running into my arms, and
Our tears mingling
Over the wasted years,
Only to realize that dreams
Are only dreams
To remind me of my longing,
Not yours.

If I were to write you a poem,
I'd tell you that sorrow cuts me still,
Even though my heart is turning stone,
That parts of me are fading out to gray...
That family isn't whole while one of us is still
Away.

If I were to write you a poem,
I'd say the old stool you loved
Stands waiting,
Your handwriting still claiming it
As yours,
Though you have left it here
These years.

But how shall I write a poem
When the leaves of spring are glittering,
And when meadowlarks are singing,
And work calls me out to take the agony away?

Perhaps in fall,
When leaves begin their grim descents,
And winds drive chilling clouds of gray,
As mournful sounds of geese in southern vees
Cast gloom upon the dwindling days,
Perhaps in fall I'll take my pen,
And try to write a poem for you
Again.
Mournful Biding
 Jul 2015 Clodagh
flustered
my
"thank god the universe came up with you"
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