Fog dissipated to the sheen and splendor of
Bursts that broke through twilight’s embrace
Released from their cages by night’s keeper
Right before daybreak, awakened the sleeper.

Some days, this desert
under spells of sun and moon
think, I brood in fields of agave blue
the angled sun blares sharp to parch
to dry, to crackle leaves to dust
tricky this prickly pear cactus
bitter thorns laden with
impossible blood sweet fruit
while high and seen out the corner
of my eye, the half moon smiles
beguiled by the sun.

words drift away unfettered
from whence they came,
passing like undreamed clouds
– pragmatic eyes to the sky
   in a searching stare –
unsought thoughts disappearing hence
a fog bow fading into sunlight

there are days when
   it comes out in my silence
there are days when
   it falls down in my tears:

muse – muted in poet's pause,
heart and soul whispers
  laid bare unwritten
  behind parsing eyes
disregarded words let loose,
        ungarnered
the way low hanging fruit
falls benign — unharvested —

   shortsighted  insight
   from a bird's eye view
silently fermenting traces
and unfiltered memories
come and go unheeded words,
discarded like the passing
   time of our lives

at times  it's  ludicrous
   to follow down
lingering footprints
left behind callous:
when the shoe won't fit;
slogging across eroding
time-worn stepping stones
scattered on this twisted line
these feet have been walking down,
trying to make a getaway
   from myself

walking away from the memories
like so many indelible footprints to escape
– while dreaming stardust into stars
   in nameless constellations –
reaching out from the inside,
   site unseen,
   trying to experience
   the empirical shape
   of  stifling  silence
   in a theatre made by chance

distilling the gifts and burdens
of trying to live a worthy life
   only I'll see...


harlon rivers ... September 27, 2018

Today......in some places, heavy rains and
gusty winds rule, no way to control them
today, here where i am....sun beams with
fire.........hands keep fanning the hot spell
away, i think of ice...of snow falling from
heaven....touching the skin with coldness
that freezes the sadness in our heads...we
slowly become aware.........silently, gently
it fills spaces...seeming weightless.......yet
it soothes feelings....every drop, a comfort
we ponder more, as it amasses....painting
hills,  mountains, with  immaculate white
all over.....as if choking, but never slaying
cleansing........healing.......even the human
heart and mind, from bad energy......from
stubborn dirt......from being broken.....the
sparkle of white and  the refreshing  cold
bring clarity  to one's darkened  thoughts
a respite....a shedding of old, broken skin
much like new existence..............a rebirth.


Sally

Copyright Rosalia Rosario A. bayan
September 16, 2018