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  Jun 2018 Meera
Sally A Bayan
No one else, but a poet...can bring colors
to scenes...with verses, in crass or subtle
tones......gather words together in lines,
uncertain in their ebbing and flowing...
the results create surprise in many
hues that could make one cry,
grimace......frown......or smile

readers are led to far, or near
destinations...to the cool, sweet air
and peaceful atmosphere of paradise,  
or, to unlit corners...uncharted waters,
or deep into an abyss...or, a black hole,
an unknown corner, where moribund souls
are biding their time, maybe, they could
now define by themselves, purgatory and hell,
understand those sunken souls who have lost
all...except their arms, and begging eyes...
then, through appropriate words,
a poet paints a laborious path, or
a stairway...so an enlightened reader
may climb back to safe, calm waters...

a poet makes the mind see a human heart,
beating in many rhythms...throbbing,
.......aflame with longing and desire,
bursting from ecstatic, sublime moments,
then, later on,  shift to grayish thoughts
that cut deep....tormenting...crashing,
............gnashing the heart...
a poet paints a soul walking on cloud nine,
later, to dip feet in celebrative pools.

sometimes, a poet would rather not, yet,
an inner force prevails, thereby paints a
drooping soul...dying, in total surrender,
ready to fall..............but, again, with a
barrel of lively-colored words,  a poet
takes this despondent soul to berth,
with soothing verses, bring it to a rebirth...
every human being is worth an effort
..............even those that have fallen
.........................are worth savin' .....

a poet's palette is uniquely
enriched with colorful experiences,
a poet paints life in its truest colors,
..........could be dark...or bright
.....nothing more......nothing less...





Sally

© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
    January 29, 2017
  Jun 2018 Meera
Ruby
For me, depression is walking across the street without looking both ways.
It's sitting in a car wishing an accident would come, wishing you would be the only casualty.
It's cooking everything despite not wanting to, eating everything in sight just because there's a slim chance of dying from poison.
It's staying out in the rain and never moving, staring in the distance. Waiting for a branch to knock me unconscious.
It's staying up till dawn knowing you have to be up early the next day.
It's zoning out at random intervals because you have no energy anymore.
It's staying in your room unless necessary.
It's staying in bed until life comes knocking at the door.
It's losing inspiration on things you previously liked.
To me, these are the meaning of depression.
  Jun 2018 Meera
Barker
Everyone's telling me that I ain't good enough
And that I ain't nothing but a burden
But you don't know anything about me
You don't know anything about what I've gone through
You know nothing
So Stop Telling Me I'm Not Good Enough
Because I Am
(c)ibarker
  Jun 2018 Meera
Barker
I'll say I hate you
You'll say you hate me more
I'll say I hate you the most

Then we'll laugh knowing it's not true

You'll say you love me
I'll say I love you more
You'll say you love me the most

Then we'll argue about who loves the other more
Then we'll laugh again because it's all the same

We both know darling - dearest - darling
That we are more together than apart.

I'm too emotional
And you emotionless
And together we are human
(c)ibarker Cresfall
  Jun 2018 Meera
Raindrop
Kiss me when the rain falls
Let our lips dance in the pouring rain
Kiss me by the tree
And let me fall for you once again
Just like how the leaves fall in autumn

Kiss me softly when the sun rises
Let me be awaken by your gentle touches
Kiss me deeply when the night falls
Whisper your desires to me, love
And let me know your dire temptation

Just kiss me, darling
With the lips of a sinner
And heart of a saint
And mark me as yours;
Forever, I will be.
  Jun 2018 Meera
Jeremy Micallef
The force
making me
fall for you
is stronger
than the one
reminding
me that
I have
done this
before
Some forces are bigger than others
  Jun 2018 Meera
imai
LOVE
could be a question of
who
when
how
but never
‘why?’

LOVE
could be a matter of
falling unexpectedly
under the sweetly cool
november sky

LOVE
could sometimes be
a gradual burn
or high paced recklesness
laced with unmasked desperation
and a wordless goodbye

LOVE
could have been
you and I

but LOVE
I never would have thought
be fleeting and discreet-
surprisingly gone
the moment we meet

LOVE
as I now know it to be
is an erratic creature
neither bitter nor sweet

LOVE
is a moment
I would never forget-
his eyes aflame under
the painted sunset

LOVE
was him
and all the things we
left unsaid

LOVE
is now
nothing but a far memory-
that of a star that once burned the brightest but
now is
dead.
I saw him yesterday, for the first time in a while.
I was expecting butterflies and all the trouble that accompanied a girl in love, but I was greeted with none of those.
I felt calm. It seems that I have moved on.
I've written this poem a long time ago, but it is only now that I truly relate to it.
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