Gently, she goes
as soft as a fawn
opens the window
and waits for the dawn
fireflies glow
wind caresses her face
as she sheds all the shadows
not leaving a trace
She dons velvet darkness
wrapped in its cloak
releases all poisons,
                 sylphlike,
             in smoke
She is preparing for battle
in her own, quiet way
She only wants wholeness
as she breaks through the gray
For soon she will weave
prismatic wonders of spells
her own inner aurora
lighting heaven from hell
For suffered she has
and it's time to forgive
unlock self-made prisons
and let herself live
and now as sunrise approaches
stars still in sight
she turns the skeleton key
and glides
into
             flight

No one else, but a poet...can bring colors
to scenes...with verses, in crass or subtle
tones......gather words together in lines,
uncertain in their ebbing and flowing...
the results create surprise in many
hues that could make one cry,
grimace......frown......or smile

readers are led to far, or near
destinations...to the cool, sweet air
and peaceful atmosphere of paradise,  
or, to unlit corners...uncharted waters,
or deep into an abyss...or, a black hole,
an unknown corner, where moribund souls
are biding their time, maybe, they could
now define by themselves, purgatory and hell,
understand those sunken souls who have lost
all...except their arms, and begging eyes...
then, through appropriate words,
a poet paints a laborious path, or
a stairway...so an enlightened reader
may climb back to safe, calm waters...

a poet makes the mind see a human heart,
beating in many rhythms...throbbing,
.......aflame with longing and desire,
bursting from ecstatic, sublime moments,
then, later on,  shift to grayish thoughts
that cut deep....tormenting...crashing,
............gnashing the heart...
a poet paints a soul walking on cloud nine,
later, to dip feet in celebrative pools.

sometimes, a poet would rather not, yet,
an inner force prevails, thereby paints a
drooping soul...dying, in total surrender,
ready to fall..............but, again, with a
barrel of lively-colored words,  a poet
takes this despondent soul to berth,
with soothing verses, bring it to a rebirth...
every human being is worth an effort
..............even those that have fallen
.........................are worth savin' .....

a poet's palette is uniquely
enriched with colorful experiences,
a poet paints life in its truest colors,
..........could be dark...or bright
.....nothing more......nothing less...





Sally

© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
    January 29, 2017

Nature calved up, decapitated limbs
left in unmarked eulogies, only silence
speaks. The carcasses of the fallen now
lumber atop of each other. A mass grave
of something once tall now fallen & muted.

Within the insects of humanity now infest
this cadaver, putting what once was brethren
upon the flame. A funeral pyre of rings now
turning to ash, warming the lumbering morbidity
that has an aroma of pine cones screaming in the night.

They live within our gravestones of silence.
Nailing there memories within our husks.
Yet they abandon us like we were momentary
needs, for we are lifetimes in their finite moments.
                     And we decay from where we came from.

Tiny song bird with folded wing
Perched upon the fountain
Lovely tune that you shall sing
To wake up old man mountain.

Like a Lyricist concealed
In the leafy boughs of thought,
Soothing melodies revealed
Before the messenger is sought.

I follow your delightful sound
Carried by the breeze
Hoping you will come around
I wait beneath the trees.

Fluttering from branch to sky
Poetry in your flight
Colors dance before my eye
Whence I have you in my sight.

Little mystic sparrow
Gliding on the air
Like a silvery arrow
With sunlight on you fair

From your nest within the tree
Dewy leaves and tangled vine
You first learned how to hover free
High above the earth divine.

serfinski

It took me seven years
to realise
the words in my mind
were too deep for
my mouth to dig up
I thought it was easier
to open my skin
and let the truth
pour down my arms

It took me seven years
to realise
nobody should be allowed
to touch parts
of your home
or hold pieces  
of your heart
that you don't yet understand

It took me seven years
to realise
I will wear these scars
forever
I'll carry them
through every smile
every kiss
every concerned gaze
I'll carry them
to my grave

It took me seven years
to realise
the pain carved
into the walls
of my castle
etchings of
attempting to disappear
are not a story of weakness
but a tale of
how I survived

The pillows do not rest your head although you may be tired
Perfect porcelain statues of people
Tiny trinkets motionless and admired
towels that dont dry ***** hands
Because they are for looks
The dolls stare blankly across the room
Sit on shelves instead of books
The fine china sits in a curio shelf
Alone forever collecting dust
Pretty flowers no one smells
Frozen forever go untouched
antique couches plush and blue
The guests not asked to have a seat
Price tag attached as if brand new
It’s contents staged precise and neat
Take off your shoes at the door
To maintain the integrity close to mint
Walking on eggshells upon the floor
The carpet lacking one footprint
A life size doll house you can walk inside
look but do not touch written in large print
Detailed written warning signs
Inform the cautious and careful inhabitants
A house you wouldn’t want to live in
But a family does reside
A shocking truth you can’t believe
Resembles forms of any human life

Somewhere our souls danced
across the sands of time.
Torn apart like star crossed lovers.
Destined to travel time...
Looking into the hollow eyes of
falls lovers.
Searching for memories.
Humanity penning false narratives
and painting fairytale landscapes...
Attempting to deceive the soul.
And our souls wept until the waves
of pain and grief were lost in a kiss
And a secret between souls was shared...
"Do you remember?"