Mnemonic...

Over my mug of steaming coffee,
...i see cookies and a fruit...sliced,
to freshen my breath after my coffee break....

one glance...

one unexpected glance, took me back... to
when i decided to do something for myself,
to be happy.....and to be somebody....but,
finally....i fought the desire, to be defiant...
those awakenings, and newfound feelings,
still haunt my evenings...the hurting, somewhat
changed me, and my beliefs.......i realized that,

at some point in one's life, a chance moment
unfolds on a landing...clear to the eyes...on a mission,
to change attitudes...to erase wrong impressions,
triggered by unpleasant experiences....i have also
discovered....at the right time, somebody comes,
......like an angel with hidden wings...to soften
our hardened minds....to melt our frozen hearts,
ease our tensed opinions...offer us a healing balm.
sometimes, a place, or a face, becomes a kind of paper
that can't be crumpled, or destroyed...so hard to forget.
anyone...anything, that strikes the heart hard,
easily comes back, with the slightest reminder,
catches you..........unprepared....

this fruit on the table, in silence, it just sits there,
...unaware of its being mnemonic...doesn't matter,
if it's fresh, rotten, or candied...a plum, apple or pear
....................would prompt me, to remember,
over my mug of steaming coffee...


Sally


Copyright July 27, 2016
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

An artist should never
confuse themselves with art.
They are merely a vessel,
From which art pours.
Sometimes they are empty
And other times full.


- Hadrian Veska

He used to walk with life in his stride
He used to strut with a heart full of pride

These days see him stumbling every so often
These days see his eyes vacant and sullen

So I asked if there was anything bothering him
So I asked what is it that made his light so dim

He tarried, then answered with conviction true
He tarried before he finally answered, *"You..."

The sun awaits
just beyond the horizon.
Time gets scarcer
as it bathes us
in its glow.
And our bodies can only
afford to
crumble to dust.

All that we know,
what we knew,
will only be cast...
Imprisoned.
Within the tight confines
of expiring memory.

We must pave a way
to a secret place.
A route to safety...
One that we could share.
Somewhere only we know.

I'll go to this place
where no one can.
I'll wait and anticipate
your arrival at this place...
A place only we know.

Is it true what the scientists say
That life on earth will end one day?

I guess that they are probably right
There'll be no day, there'll be no night

The ozone layer is full of holes
Rising temperatures melting ice floes

Will we perish in enormous Floods?
The thought of it just chills the blood

Or will earthquakes bury us out of sight
Will fire devour us without a fight?

Storm and tempest, some folk say
Will make us kneel in final prayer

The forecast? Now  I'll give you mine:
It will end in two thousand and seventy nine


Keith Wilson            June 25 2016