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 Oct 2018
Sally A Bayan
<>

There is power over what's in front,
what's behind, cannot be vouched for.

any one, anything that accost me, are
all taken at face value....just as they are,
disregarding love, or dislike,
or, what dwells deep within.

when not shrouded, i am most useful
some say i'm cruel
others think, i'm kindest
but, i am just being honest.
with the least of light, i try my best,
i earn praises...they come back, they need me
sometimes i am bathed with hatred
i end up in the attic...or given away,
just because the truth is unacceptable.

the area across is most times regular,
a man on his table...what hungs on his wall.
occasionally, it becomes spectacular,
countenances, joyful, or sorrowful
come to and fro...all sorts of accolades
a mix of emotions...each day, an array
of lively colors and moods......a parade
of varied appearances feed my view
it's not what i want...it's what i am given
any time of any day...any season.
whatever the reason
someone or something
stands  to face me.

when night is late, and in complete silence
that man by the table....ever writes on paper
and gets them all wet...with his falling tears,
he writes of volcanoes spewing fire, of rain pouring,
speaks to himself, then to me, of betrayal, promises
lost, of broken vows, and shattered expectations.
i am speechless, yet filled with his pain ....he is restive
til the wee hours of the morning....then i see light in
this visage, his face...giving an end to the dark
giving way to another day's noise,
......a facade.....

Sally

Copyright Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
October 11, 2018
 Oct 2018
Onoma
Buddha sits...

(in every conceivable direction)

finger painting a field

of flowers, while breathing

through billions of

human beings.

he remains breathless...

( directionless)

the chest of his sky no longer

heaves, but knows its heart

above all else.

rarer than a bird that realizes

it's flying.

as color is blind of itself, because

its spectrum's sight is so profound.

Buddha sits...

finger painting a field of flowers.
 Oct 2018
White Widow
A Milestone
Should not be a millstone,
Weighting your Spirit.

Rather, a stepping stone
Buoyed in the water of life.

Used to keep you
Above water
As you bridge the gap.

Milestones should not
Be millstones.

Rather, paver stones
Used to mark your path.
Where you've been.  
Where you're going.
Forming a pleasing pattern
In the Earth to gaze upon.
To excitedly anticipate.

Milestones should not
Be millstones.
To grind you down
While you continue to grow.

Rather, gem stones
That glitter with the light
Marking the Blessings
Along your path.

Milestones are not millstones.

Unless you see them that way.
Special milestone for me tomorrow; I'm not where I had envisioned for myself, but I'm learning to enjoy the journey!
'Twas in the eventide of June
Whilst he didst lay in a pit of despair
When a lass fair as a silvery moon
Stately sailed his way as a zephyr
Yet majestically as drops of dew
Rollin' upon boughs of emerald fair.

Heaven's ever fair golden eye
Had sprinkled her very last ray
To pave way unto night maidens
That evermore bedight heaven's bay
With luster that in perpetuum gladdens
Naked eyes in a way i canst not say.

Radiant hope in his eyes shone bright
To potter beside a beauty queen
Whose eyes thrice brighter than light
Fair like as sails of diamond hewn,
Opalescent as robes of Sirius in the night
Whilst decamping at the fall of dawn.

Euphonious lullabies into her ear
Mellifluously he didst sing and sing,
For her to know she's all he did revere.
A fair diadem unto her he did bring,
For her to forevermore hold it dear
Queen unto him she's, and him her King.

But yonder stars in lone splendor
Coveted him and the beauty queen,
For her effulgence surpassed their luster
That as passes a fiend with eyes unseen
When the wind is hushed into slumber,
So did spy upon 'em with eyes keen.

Alas! As we all know naught lasts forever,
The looming veils of night began to vade
Whilst stars in a splendiferous cluster
Upon celestial shores coyly didst wend;
And his visage grew pale by dawns luster,
For far off with his queen they'd eloped.


©Kikodinho Edward Alexandros,
Los Angels, California, USA.
24th/09/2018
#Tales Of Nineva #Swain #Maiden #Fairy whispers #Imaginations
Somewhere between night and day,
she wiggled from side to side
then pushed and stretched
until each petal was opened wide.

Painted in beauty
she's a symbol of grace
gently swaying in the breeze
planted firmly in one place.

Waiting....
              waiting
to be plucked
               and caressed
full filling
               her passions need
                         waiting…  
                                     waiting
                      in beauty's pose
with ancient secrets of old
       blinded by her sight

she is....

The Fire and Ice, Wild Rose
~
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