I apoligize for not reading your posts. I have been battling my depression and have not been online .  I have written a poem about it (of course lol).  I hope you enjoy and I hope to be online tomorrow.

My Dark Tale (A Sestina)

It is a lovely time of day for tea
As I sit curled up to the song of rain
Memories arise of a deep dark pain
Storm clouds gather within my heart, darkly
Dimly, I am aware of rainbow’s hope
Wanting dreams infused with Rosemary and Thyme

Out of work, I suffer from too much time
Overeating and drinking too much tea
Depression worsens, stealing all my hope
And all my dreams shatter in the cold rain
Leaving me empty in the bitter dark
As I stare out of the broken windowpane

How I long to conquer my bitter pain
If only I would organize my time
I know then, I would rise above the dark
Instead, I get caught in cookies and tea
And sink deeper; chaos supremely reigns
I flounder once again, losing my hope

I am tired of losing precious hope
Letting despair and worthless bitter pain
To take control and determinedly reign
Structure! Will that allow me to use time
Positively? Cutting back on black tea
Getting needed sleep to fight back the dark

Rested, I can push back the hated dark
Strive to capture peace and beautiful hope
Learning once again to enjoy my tea
And not as a crutch that causes me pain
While I mourn the loss of wasted sweet time
Instead, I would see rainbows in the rain

I yearn to topple depression’s long reign,
To walk in the sun’s light, not the cold dark
Eager to greet the day and enjoy time
Pursue my dreams, infusing life with hope
Do away with doldrums and bitter pain
Relaxing and enjoying Earl Gray Tea

Envoi

To sum up, I yearn to enjoy my tea
Overcome my darkness and pain; to feel hope
While I take time to enjoy the sweet rain

Kelly Rose
© January 5, 2017

the skin of morning heavy
on windows, floors & mugs
blue-eyed wolves trace the scent
the fragility of life in indifferent forests
uncovered shoulders near the wind
slowly absorb the horizon, the new common sense
dozens killed killed killed
killed by bombs, cars,  trucks, guns, knives
hatred grows like mislettoe
the sky an endless empty whole
the same heresy errected with fresh blood

a winter born forgetting
some hands without fingers
some children cry
some wounds have no cover
the blanket of darkness sweet
hate grows like mislettoe, remember

it must be that
I woke up on the wrong side of the
moon hide tonight

A little nod to
Georgia Douglas Johnson, 1880 - 1966
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When I looked back upon this year
And thought about the things that upset me
I wave the white flag so many times,
And from another stand point,
I cursed off  the ******* that bother me
I stamp my feet upon the ground:
Of injustice
Day after day after day I pray for strength
Not to inhale the smoke of marijuana
But actually smoke the **** joint in my mind

When I looked back upon this year
And thought about the things that upset me
I stretch my fingertips, and I write poetry.

I am nearing the end
My final few hours
And I look back
At time

And I see death

Death of ordinary people
Children
Fathers
Mothers
Grandparents

Men
Standing
In uniforms
Hold their guns high
Waving their decorated arms
Smiling

I see
The washed up bodies
Of infants

Innocent
Like rag dolls

Cradled in the arms
Of rescue workers

I see women intimidated
Men bullish
Political agendas
Thrusting decency and courtesy
Aside

And I feel myself
Pulled downwards
By the current of inhumanity

And I worry
About myself

Alone

In some distant
Safe place
Hearts beat together
Warm

Children have no fear
And adults
Are united

There are no wars
There is no hunger
Home is home
And no one is forced away from it

There is more than enough
Food to go round

And people take pleasure
In offering to others

And the air is clean
And the water pure
And the land is filled
With the sounds of nature

And I wonder

How kind
Can one man be
In twenty
Seventeen?

...are showers that come in april, unexpected;
sparks and bursts of fireworks that overwhelm
a new year's eve...and revivify a lethargic world,
with sweet music that plays on, and on, and on...
...cup brims with adjectives that speak wonderfully
of the purest of emotions, like an invisible smile
of the heart, or, a smile too shy, but can't be hid
while imagining first times, face to face situations...
...verbs and adverbs give truth to action, and reaction,
like the soft, sweet giggles that start, when hearing
a voice, or a new accent...the pounding of the heart,
when the phone rings, and conversation flows easy
and honest, time doesn't matter anymore...voices
go soft, then loud, yet, still charming and melodic;
the whispered weary sighs sighed when waiting, or
when goodnights, or temporary goodbyes are
uttered....all are vividly felt, and heard...

...these spurts and blasts of joy,
are sources of metaphors...they capture
the essence of moments sublime...giving them
life and color, making them last in one's memory...

...it is a God-given moment, when true feelings
are manifested...recognized....and appreciated...
ink refuses to run dry, when reliving in writing,
incomparable moments of joy....


Sally

Copyright December 31, 2016
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

For years they shared similar
Goals and dreams
Then a crossroads
Upon the horizon
Brought them to a halt
Choices were made
And paths diverged
Once united, now divided
Though moments
Shine with laughter and joy
Swiftly, storm clouds
Of disdain and contempt
Can color the air
As choices made are ridiculed
A delicate balance exists
That teeters rhythmically
One minute, camaraderie prevails
Stirring feelings of love
The next moment, despair rules
Planting seeds of rage
How I miss the one,
But hate the other…

Kelly Rose
© December 29, 2016