My heart is like loose change,
some times that lucky penny
is lost and never refunded.

But some times that little coin
that was just covered in lint is
rubbed and a new gleam is found.

*"Can you dispense a moment and spend
a thought on each others heart beats,

barely lighting the corner of the room
the corner
where
she stood

there lightly stands a shadow  of gloom
so normal
where
she stood

fair dark and resounding
like she still
is there
saddened

by the bare echoes found
within
a corner of
her head

hiding
forever
it is

real and perceptible
to me
like the
sun
going down

can you see it in my eyes
or hear it in my sighs
somewhere someone sees
listens
cries

is there anything to it
this life our being
here near to death
as life
sighs

I sigh again thinking
about the things
I have experienced
people
near

when for once clearness  became
tall fervent
suddenly
right on hand
clear

as the bell rings Sunday morn
and the skies bluer
after a storm
and rainbows
appear

hold my hand please anyone
let us go to where
this life  is calmer clearer
peace is norm
and the seas
near

let us walk among other men
with similar
dreams
among the
gods of
mortality

sing

........
........
Past eight in the ev'ning....rainy sky
Was out at the verandah...twas time
To pull the second bar of the gate
Street was a bit dark..........despite my dimming sight
I could see shapes...sensed some presence...heard soft noises'
Permeating the cool night atmosphere...three voices
Four guests, as in past nights...waiting outside...

A rushing, and tingling of plates, ladles and pots
The opening and closing of the glass door
After a while, our guests were served late dinner
Complaining.....in their own familiar way

Three impatient stray cats, kept meow-ing,
The neighbor's dog...as usual...patiently waited...
The brown-striped cat ran to the vacant lot
And started licking her share of fishhead
While the younger two, shared a single plate.
They all contentedly, ate in silence...

After a while...one by one,
Our regular guests disappeared
Lost, in the dark....among the tall banana plants
Sheltered themselves....somewhere safe,  
Their purrs, and hushed yelping,
Faded...in the black distance...
:::::::
:::::::::::::::::::
Twas time, to secure the bar of the gate,
.....................time, to close for the night...



Sally

Copyright October 24, 2016
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

Each day I ****, on a Whiskey bottle
As my life, also does **** on me
My worth on earth, about as much
As my **** is, to the sea

Inside this swashing jug, a raging sea
Sets me adrift, atop a cresting wave
Then pulls me under to such depths
That my soul, I can no longer save

With each gulp, I stir the bowels
Arouse the sediment and silt
And as it settles, I hope it hides
Or at least, obscures my gilt

Every mouthful, flays my throat
Like waves, they break into the rocks
Smashing, spraying, then dissipating
Where the Devil stands and mocks

I drink until, my mind goes blank
Then plunge into the floor
At last, a drunken blissful peace
Until I wake, once more

So as I lay here, on this deck
Inebriated, dying in this flask
I think of you and what we had
If forgiveness, I could only ask
BOEMS BY JA 614

So far the story goes
Miss Place keeps everyone on their toes.

For her finding things is not an easy thing
Most of her possessions invariably go missing
Nowhere to be found are objects of her use
And the ones she blames find some excuse
That she is unmindful and blatantly unfair
Her missing comb is there only in her hair
To her desperate hunt for an important file
She's told she's sitting on it all the while
When she lost an earring and was sulking morose
It so happened they said she wore it on her nose
She wonders why her family should at all blame her
If her car keys are found in the dickey of her car
and why on earth should the blame be all hers
when her money is in a book and not in her purse.

Miss Place thinks she knows the reason for such mess
others' gross negligence in putting things in place.

return the sun's rays catch a bucket of rain
be the sky for one minute
a cloud fleeting
be a squirrel in an oak tree
or a rose in some  garden
or  the  beach as the sea laps at me
be a star or the moon
be something
truer
more causal
more a part
of everything
take that bucket of rain and fly
above the desert
and cry forever
happy then

It is hard
on your soul
to admit
how often
you have
been full
of ****.

Her hair is buckwheat, straight,
hanging with the ease of
an assisted suicide.
And the smear, red and from
ear to ear, shows what she cannot:
that beauty is fluid and that we've forgot.

Sun-freckled and speckled
with cheap, off-brand gloss --
she is the monologue of
an anxious man across
the girl in the catalog, who
wore the Fall before the fall.