The porch is all wet
Heaven's wrath bellows, falls wet
Pours like mad...i'm wet!

Rain, pain...keep eyes wet
Pen is fueled, drenched...too wet
Ink blots....paper's wet

Moist wind makes head wet
Wounded heart speaks... mind's soaked wet
My muse, dripping wet...




Sally


Copyright May 18, 2015
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

"Oh!, was one of those amazing Friday afternoons
When I was enjoying a steaming cup of coffee
Along with a biscotti and imagining a perfect world
You know one of those perfect worlds
that exists in other suburbs, and other zipcodes
So I turned to poetry my favorite past time
and hoped to find meaning there
And you know what they say, whoever they are
They all say this, everyone of them,
so I imagine there must be some truth to their words
, "Fate is in charge of our destinies"
So I read your words flying through the matrix
Each rhythmic line, each word, each syllable
And I thought, "Hey this poet is onto something"
As those poetic words stopped me in my tracks
and held me starstruck and spellbound
Stunned, Yes poet I was more than stunned
Kind of like when I rode across the southern sky
In a gold chariot pulled along by Sirius
Though now as I finish my coffee and biscotti
I can only  imagine and wonder

Confide all you want
But listening ears bleed too
If only you’d see

When the ****-shot kills not, the dead lions don’t roar.
They become the ghost in the dark, silent yet present.
Like power, real power, stealth in tall green grasses,
they watch
the victory dances and gleeful prances of deluded preys.
Beware!! Be not carried away.
Look into the eyes of the golden flames,
See their manes –Alive!!
In the fog of night’s peaceful fade.

©Belema .S. Ekine
©belemascribbles