None of us
Is here to stay
There are  dues to pay
We are not promised today, nor yesterday
It can be over at a blink of an eye
Bye, bye
That promise is not a lie
Some day, sooner or later
We all die
So why?
The chase for more and more
Such a bore
Making life a chore
So quick to judge
The poor
The *****
Closing the door
To people not like you
Not having a clue
This is what I have got to say
To the who's who
*******!!
You will get what is coming to you
What is due
No lie
We are all pink inside
Bleed red on the outside
We all cry
We all try
We all have pride
This does not need to be clarified
The bible
The guide
Should be applied
When it is not
Good and evil collide
Open your door
Look outside
It cannot be denied
You will see the divide
No one standing side by side
Are you horrified ?
To what is glorified
You should be terrified
I know
Your satisfied
To wear blinders
To cover your eyes
No lie
We all die
In common
We all have forgotten
!!

(a second time posting)


T'was a short poem I was reading...
I had started writing
My comments,
When...
Along came a very strange feeling,
With very strange thoughts:

"This... has exactly happened before...
This poem...I have read before...
Written these very same thoughts before!"

Over and over, I blinked... had to make sure...
But, all at once... one brief moment...
I found myself seated beside a grand piano,
By a wide ostentatious stairway,
In a bright, candle-lit mansion...
But, stranger still, while I was writing,
My eyes strayed to my right,
To a mirror by the wall...
I saw a handsome young man,
With slightly long curly hair,
Wearing a long-sleeved, white ruffled shirt
And a pair of dark pants,
Holding paper and quill,
Looking back at me.

I was staring at myself!!!

I was holding the paper,
Where I had written my thoughts,
About a poem titled,
"....WILT...."



Sally

Copyright November 5, 2013
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

::::::

             Below is Timothy's poem,
             the reason for my "Deja Vu."


WILT

The wilting of the flowers;
Ephemeral bubble bursts;
The last grains of sand run out;—
I wilt just like flow'rs.


~Timothy~
Dodoitsu.
© Timothy 30 July, 2013.