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I walked the woods today,
strolled under the quite shade of
towering old growth evergreens,
their scent upon me conveyed
simple peaceful solitude, there were
birds and squirrels unconcerned
with me, busy with their own pursuits.
A young Deer browsing raised his
antlered head for a quick peek, then went
right back to eating. For a moment I felt as
if I was the only human in the world and
that thought did not disturb me in the least.
I do not know much about
loneliness, I have never felt it.
That makes me a rather lucky
person. Perhaps even unusual.
Hazy Day
————-

rose at 3:30am, anticipating an aria of glorious
thoughts needy of capture, encryption, preservation,
three hours later, an empty vessel rides high on the empty
white screen waters of the Bay of Zero, fed by Nada River,
emptying into the Atlantic Ocean, where microscopic is ordinary,
my, my, not~noteworthy contribution, noted for its worthlessness.

delivered the coffee at 7:00am, put on the music,
climbed onto a fresh sheeted mattress, yawning, yearning,
seeking to recover the lost hours and instantly tumbler-in,
inundating random notions, hazardous thoughts,
dispatched to keep me awake, as I trajectory into sleepyville,
each one an angel, coming down Jacob’s ladder for to wrestle
me home, even as the daylight reveled~reveals that a newborn
baby, will be new hot, dangerous, burning hazy day.


                                                    <!>

Hazardous Thoughts
—————————-

                                
“It is easier to give love than to accept it.” (Walter W Hoelbling)

Walter, Walter, what an accursed blessing you’ve given me!

This simple declarative is a racking, wrecking, symphonic
synopsis of this man’s life, crying out for une écriture monumental,
that somewhere in a hidden recess has commenced composition,
know not the where or when of it, but the why is a tightening noose,
squeezing my brain, choking my neck, impounding the heart beating,
because with succinct brevity betrayed out loud, my essential secret.


                                                     <!>

Every night I sleep with a woman and a man; the woman, you need
not know, nameless is what you shall call her, but the man, instantly
recognizable as just Leonard, descendant of the priests in the Temple. Me and the baffled King composing our hallelujahs.

                                                  ­    <!>

Art doesn’t not imitate life. It plagiarizes, embellishes, improves, with
tinkered recombinant DNA, shamelessly swiped, for which we forgive the audacity of its thievery, for with each attempt comes a Confession, remorse, nobody cares, whatever. Art supersedes, supplanting and superimposing, by grafting new branches upon old works, even occasionally improving what was once brilliantly original.

                                                     ­ <!>

Note to self: Do not forget to wake ‘n take the garbage, the recycling, and the corrugated cardboard and all previous poems to the Town Dump, before they stink up the garage. Post Office, Pharmacy for local weekly newspaper, no candy.

                                                     <!>

Dozy, sleepy. Sarcastic “great.”  I’ll never remember this poem;
**** these hazardous thoughts on a hot, dangerous, burning,
innocent hazy day.
note to self: dreamt yesterday in the early morn;, composed in the afternoon, listening to Jonas Kaufmann, edited, posted at 3:30 AM Friday listening to Kris Kristofferson and Janis Joplin.
3:35AM Fri Jul 24.

the precedent predecessor:

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/3096449/every-poem-is-a-test-of-character/
Every
"fresh start" I
seize. I paint myself a
different colour every time, only for the
tide to drag me in
and soak it
all
away, and it'll
dampen my spirit and flood
my lungs with seawater but it will
never submerge me no matter
how much I
beg
it to -- or
maybe it's because I beg
it to, and there's more joy to
be reaped in wounding me
with its grinning
denial.
1-3-5-7-5-3-1
 Jun 2021 Agent Provocateur4
r
Hey Dad,
It's been some time since we last spoke. I miss you, still. I'm writing to ask that you pass a message on to Mom for me. She never was one for sentimental stuff; but you know that, already.

Tell Mom that she is missed by all of her children; we miss her especially on this, her first Mother's Day away. I will miss not calling or seeing her. I missed sweating over what to get her this year. I miss her voice those times when I just needed to hear it; the first time that Noah had an ear infection, those times that I needed to know what was wrong with my roses. She always seemed to have the right answer no matter what. Just like you.

Tell Mom that I'm doing well. I've stopped drinking. I know she never liked that. Tell her that Noah is graduating from High School next month. You both were always so proud of him. He misses both of you very much. You should see him now, Dad. He's as tall as I am. As tall as you. He has grown into a good man; he is a lot like you in many ways. Noah sends his love to you both.

Well, I just wanted to say hello, and ask that you tell Mom that I love her. Tell her that I understand. It was time. She missed you. You were waiting up in the high pasture for quite awhile.  I'll let you go, now. I know that you two still have a lot of catching up to do.

Hugs to Mom.

                         Love,
                         Rick

r ~ 5/11/14
Happy Mother's Day, Mom.
In a palapa in Yalapa
Drinking mezcal moonshine
with a local named Rudolpho
He waves his hands in circles and squares
in candle shadows

Eyes turn inward to see

becoming a mind in the present
childlike wonder
big moon rising
pulling internal tides
stretching roots
grounded in the earth

Rudolpho knows how to laugh in colors
He knows how to dance Zorba style
arms held high to the diamonds in the sky

Nothing was achieved but everything was fixed

Zooming towards a universal experience
among the universal mind

Don't know where the night went

Rudolpho knows the ritual of the sun
Told me what I needed to know
singing
"Hurray another day"
while a parrot calls my name
and a scorpion slips into my shoe.

A palapa has no walls
I didn't either
all I was
was windows

Drinking mezcal moonshine
with a local named Rudolpho
he knows all about goodbyes.
Anticipation

<~> <~> <~>

I feel, it's taking longer
before the monthly
tearing-off
of the calendar

close to one hundred
and fifty days now,
...and counting on,
trying to foreknow;
September is about
to come in.....and
i still hear
anticipated mass
via live streaming;

we worship, we trust,
we pray for our family
for the whole world,
it is just normal, that
we worry, we envision,  
and with a strong faith,
we get ready, for
whatever fate
befalls us...as a nation
and...as individuals...

within restrictive spaces
all we can do is pray,
do some wishful thinking
and yes....anticipate...


Sally

© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
August 29, 2020

Sally

© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
August 29, 2020
A corona prone red zone.
Nights are no different from days,
Except a peeping moon.
ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭ ̀ˋ

Bull frogs have no voice this rainless night,
crickets are done with their song...
no contentment reigns in this warm silence
where human fears reverberate, in the
still of this crazy summer month...

t's a foggy scenario, for these health workers,
they're white shadows
witnessing silent struggles inside hospitals,
outside houses, amidst crowds...even in places
frequented by homeless people...

white shadows know despair felt by the
sick, separated from families and friends,
white shadows know when anxiety and fright
settle in the air...they feel when death is nigh...
they conceal their worries, their fears,
well behind their masks......yet, no one is
invincible...........white shadows die, too.

i strain my eyes...something flickers
in this dark, navy night...

"Come, fireflies...
be with us, though briefly, in this
moment of uncertainty......tonight,
i see your shy, quivering dots of fire,
braving the darkness...just like these
selfless white shadows, struggling to
overcome fear haunting their hearts,
come fireflies...
share your magical glow with them,
may their faith and hope never wane,
may this heavy fog melt, and fall like rain,
may this plea stand strong...be not in vain."
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
::::::::::::::::::::::::
:­:::::::::::::::
(it's hard not to write depressing poetry,
when days and nights seem an eternity...)


Sally
©Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
   April 13, 2020
(in honor of our tireless, selfless front-liners)
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