( A reaction to Atul's poem, "Acknowledgement Long Due")


A well of words springs forth in every man's mind....they are either uttered...or written down...they could raise...or break,
someone's nerves, hopes or wall...

Words,  too, could be a source of strength
to be read...to be heard...channeled...offered...
to those in need of help...

Words may be a cradle....swaying.....
catching what could be falling...
or what has almost fallen...flat on the ground
a pad, that could soften the impact of a fall...

Words are a hammock, tied securely, between two trees
the trees move...but stay firm and steadfast
as the hammock swings to and fro...

I am a tree...my leaves and twigs,
being blown wild, by gusty winds
but i was swayed...i was calmed,
upon reading the words...sincere thoughts of a fellow poet...
my day was saved.

Sally

Copyright February 23, 2016
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

The eyes of her;
Are beyond beautiful.
Much more than I, myself, can imagine.
The wondering eyes of me;
Can never stop staring at the beauty,
that swipes Thy heart for herself.

The kind heart of she;
hides throughout the brutal darkness,  
Never for seeing the need of light.
"Those who wonder in to such;
Futuristically get broken down,
And end up where I, myself am now.

For every slight attempt,
I am turn down.
No trust as expected,
For I am one of the unimportant.
Inside the brittle heart of thy;
And past the walls of hell,
She knows I love every part of her.
The mind of mine;
knows the beauty inside,
has been torture by those of the weak,
For past, and present centuries.
The brain of me;
Understands,
"For thy myself;
Think and feel the same."

As the shining stars cover the dark,
Night sky,
I think to myself
Beyond the darkness of her,
She still amazes thy heart and soul...
Never more

Some choices out of interest

Makes unbelievable outputs

Yes, they do make us happy

Go forward with your work

Your work will lead you to victory

Were I blind to truth
and should I wake
to find men
like trees walking,

I wonder what
miracles of humanity
I might find.

Transfiguration is made
of mud pies
and I am blessed
to see what I had missed.

no doors, complete surrender,
this vibrational mode
listening to the silence of your skin
I offer myself as a curb of melting points
you give yourself as screaming locks

don’t stop tearing me with gentleness
I’ll found myself again
into the liquid mercy in the beginning
the solid idea of us

She had blue skin,
And so did he.
He kept it hid
And so did she.
They searched for blue
Their whole life through,
Then passed right by
And never knew.

-Shel Silverstein.

Nothing hurts more than an insult

Nothing hurts more than a misunderstanding

And here I am

Ready to accept all the hate

If you hate me of what you think I am

Then, yes I accept all your hatred

Even mighty God has to face some hatred

Am just nothing under his holy feet

But, your hatred makes me stronger than you ever imagine

And thank you for your kindly hatred

Great Goddess
In fertile essence you were shaped
Upon your head
ambiguous braids were draped;

******* as mountains
Belly the great giver of life
Monthly cycle an ocher fountain
Created from ancestral strife

Venus of Willendorf
30,000 year old
Archetype Matron
of Mother Earth
Corpulent bestower
Of genesis and birth.*

- Amy Green