A Poet's Voice - Hello Poetry

Jul 2017

Sally A Bayan

<3

A kind of freedom enfolds me...here,
in this meadow, where summer colors
have deserted the horizon and the sky

a lone kite flyer has gone home
and i am left here, all alone
chasing butterflies in the dark
while i ponder long...on people,
their situations....their ideas,
their outbursts, that trigger uncertainty
their words that wound and hurt, like a plague

i sit and feel this vast openness,
nearing twilight...holding a flashlight
breeze and sound dance under a clearing moon
all i could think of, is i am small, but i want to
stand tall, in the middle of this huge open space
my voice is just a whisper in the atmosphere,
i want to stretch and reach out, but my arms are short...

all i can do, is write...i want to write with sincerity,
........use truthful, encouraging words
.......appropriate...not outlandish
...........simple......not highfalutin
...............never desultory
............or derogatory

all i want is share my thoughts that could mollify
i'd be elated if they please readers, and satisfy
i wouldn't want my words to confuse, or crucify

all i want to say
...and spread all over this troubled world...is:

"te amo"

"je t'aime"

"ti amo"

"Ich liebe dich"

"I love you"

"Wo ai ni"

"Watashi wa, anata o
aishiteimasu"

"Mahal kita"

::::::
during uncertain times,
nothing more than sweet words,
that warmth from love...can soothe weary ears
comfort, and mend broken hearts and minds...

<3

Sally

Copyright July 16, 2017
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

#alliwant

Jul 2017

spysgrandson

the church

the boy enters when he knows
others will not be there
in prayer--their silent entreaties
to a god he is not sure
listens or cares

morning after mass is best;
the bouquets are fresh
he can smell them once
the scent of the early
worshipers fades:

the pipe smoke from the old man's
coat
the widow's perfume which lingers longer than the ammonia stench
of the holy homeless who is there
every day

Christ watches over this:
a white marble man bolted
to a cross, witnessing
this spectacle for millennia

long before this cold statue
was placed in this cathedral,
he was there, the slaughtered lamb
cursed to die again and again

that is how the boy sees it;
not a promised life eternal,
but the same death anon,
anon

the pounding of the stakes,
the blood offering: the old man, the woman, the mendicant
all crucifying him again with
each plaintive prayer

once their odors fade,
the funeral sprays, the bouquets
remain--cut, dying flowers,
a fragrant impermanence
with no expectation for life
beyond their time in the
vase--no imploring a godhead
for forgiveness

no demand for blood
and perpetual death

only a little water for their brief journey
in fragile glass

Jul 2017

Cné

A Song Unsung

Time will pass
without remorse
but
memories endure.
I look into
the mirror now
and find
I've no allure.

And yet,
I smile,
a secret smile
at what
I once
had been.
My youth
has fled
but
I'm content
at what
I "was"
back "when".

I had my time
and though
they say
"youth is wasted
on the young".
I know I've still...
within my heart...
a song that's
yet unsung.

#time #memories #youth #song #smile

Jul 2017

Joel M Frye

Return Fare

Traveling back to humanity
from a place where there is hopelessness
beyond hopeless,
where one believes in God
and will not trust God.
Lost in a spiritual wilderness
for twenty-one days,
by grace alone not forty.
There is no fear quite like
the fear that your fervent prayers
are being ignored,
or put on celestial Hold:
"...your call will be answered
by the next available Higher Power;
estimated wait time is
approximately three lifetimes."
There are times
when I must founder,
battered, shattered
against the reef of my ego,
baptized by drowning in self-pity
before emerging, reborn
on a safe shore in sheltered harbor,
pulled in by willing friends
who miss me when I'm lost.

"We are punished by our sins, not for them." - Elbert Hubbard.

Jul 2017

CA Guilfoyle

Rebirth

In death, perhaps we are like water
making our way ever deeper from sand and sky.
Maybe we fly, linger and hover awhile
and the dream of becoming a bird is real.
Maybe we are stars, floating oceans of night skies
moving toward divine light in swooping waves
pushing upwards through embryonic waters
spilling over the soul
again and again.

Jul 2017

GaryFairy

gravity

I can feel the gravity
savage sadness grabbing me
like a stabbing agony
panicking heartbeat rapidly

like a drastic atrophy
the tapestry of travesty
applicable calamity
catastrophe is my canopy

the faculty of tragedy
with no strategy for amnesty
the laxity of sanity
I can feel the gravity

Jun 2017

Melissa S

New Moon

The light had gone from this woman
Her days now became lonely and dark
She would go to the shoreline
To repair what had been torn apart
She would shout out to the shoreline
O please bring me a new light, a new moon
I am tired of feeling lonely and dark
Will you please bring it to me soon
Just like that the gilded clouds did part
to reveal to her a new moon
Time for this woman to have light again
Time for her to be swooned
This new moon was most welcoming
with his arms open wide
Lit up this beautiful woman again
and brought out the pearl we knew was inside