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 Dec 2017 Sam
She Writes
Something felt wrong
I told you no
But you were so strong
I had no choice

I was only five years old
When all this began
How could you be so cold
You were supposed to protect me

Let’s play a game; hide and seek
I was to hide
I wasn’t to speak
You always found me

Hunted me like prey
Ripped off my clothes
As I began to pray
Clenching my eyes

Singing songs in my brain
Keeping my mouth shut
Pretending not to feel any pain
To scared to do anything more

For years you abused me
Until one day you were caught
I was finally free
Or so I thought

The memories of what you’ve done
Haunt me every time darkness replaces the sun
 Dec 2017 Sam
She Writes
Just because you’ve undressed her
Does not mean you’ve seen her naked

Do you know her past?

Just because you’ve touched her skin
Does not mean you’ve touched her heart

Do you know her secrets?

Just because you’ve been inside her body
Does not mean you’ve been inside her soul

Do you know her dreams?
 Dec 2017 Sam
Esther
Alaska
 Dec 2017 Sam
Esther
there are always two sides to the same story
two voices singing the same song
maybe i was never enough
maybe i was, more than enough
sometimes i wonder if you wonder the same things

have you ever had the thought of running back
to put a semi-colon instead of
a full stop to our infinite possibilities?
do you sometimes fantasize us two
lying on paper-thin ice
in Alaska
and having no fears
because i'm holding your hand?
under the green, blue, pink, purple, yellow, red
aurora borealis
and millions of stars?
have our heads tilt toward each other
at 4:09 am
in our fluffy snow jackets and boots
and lean in for a forbidden kiss
just
one
kiss
then go back and gaze at the Milky Way
with more thoughts in our minds than there are stars reflecting in our eyes
imagine a place that is ours
it's where a wise man confused reality for dreams
it's in the middle of nowhere
in our deepest fantasies
it's where we hold on to each other
and everyone else simply doesn't exist...

at 4:09 am
i wonder
if sometimes
you wonder about me too.
Sadly, fantasies aren't real. For Jason.
 Dec 2017 Sam
Sally A Bayan
(Morning Poetry with Lola)

Wednesday started with a cold, cold morning.
i wrapped myself with a thick blanket,
hid my "popsicle toes,".....seeking warmth
from recollections that played in my mind
like pleasant, joyful summer, music.

when my kids were toddlers,
i started them off with, "all things bright and
beautiful, all creatures great and small..."
but, as they grew a little older, my mother,
she woke them up each morning with,
"o captain, my captain,
our fearful trip is done..."
and then, tomorrow, we would hear,
" i shot an arrow into the air
it fell to earth...i knew not where,"
the next morning, my mother's feature could be,
"of course, i love my country,
the land in which i live,"
some days we would hear reruns....but,
the week would never be complete, without
her most favored one....which, she delivered
with a valiant voice, while pounding her chest:
"...i am  the  master  of  my  fate;
  i am  the  captain  of  my  soul!"

my kids rubbed-open their eyes in awe,
as they listened to their lola..'til they were done
with their morning rituals.

their lola kept a copy of longfellow's evangeline
but she didn't live long enough
to share it with her five great-granddaughters.
God knows...my late mother knows, i did my part,
to open the eyes...and minds of these girls,
to waken THAT awareness in them, that would
make them see, and feel...the beauty of poetry.
not everyone realizes the importance,
the necessity.....of poetry,
that life itself...........is poetry,
that, when you're a poet,
and when you're deep into it,
........you cannot just let go
for, it clings to your heart and soul,
it is like,
your second skin
...................
it's a hard habit
to break.
..................
............
the older girls read poetry...and mythology, as well,
a mix of classic and contemporary,
......but they and i, have added thoreau,
dylan thomas, teasedale, and many more
names to their lola's most favored
longfellow, henney, and whitman.
.................
.......
Sally

Copyright December 7, 2017
rrab
^^^Lola is the Filipino term for grandmother...
     "Popsicle Toes"an older poem i wrote in 2013..^^^
 Dec 2017 Sam
Jayantee Khare
Let's not make
our hearts
the graveyard of desires.

Let's mix them with
"reality" and "empathy".

And let's process all
in the environment of "patience".

The byproducts are
"lessons" ~the flowers,
"maturity" ~the fruit,
and
"peace"~the fragrance,
spreading around..
Just a thought on a lazy Sunday afternoon..
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