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It is eight o'clock, after dinner...
Only distant stars adorn a blue-black moonless sky
Quiet evening, no voices screaming,
No vendors calling...
Not one nocturnal sound, to prove the night's existence
I hear numbered footfalls above, 
A slightly, heavy weight, presses on the fiberglass roofing
Silently informing, 
Very careful not to startle me with the roof creaking
I am not scared of its presence, for it knows...
This is me...I do not fuss, I do not bellow
There is no one else, it is only me it always follows,
Hidden in the dark, on me it never lurks...
A welcome cloaked friend, this stray cat in the shadows...


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Sally

Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Happy Halloween to everyone!!!
 Nov 2014 Shannon Delaney
Jack
If only my broken heart
could remember
to forget you
 Nov 2014 Shannon Delaney
Jack
~

Shadows move on sheet rock barriers
framed in time of late
Spaces filled with unknown visions
dance about with feet of clay
Gowns of nightmare carpetbaggers
thunder on the floor
Drippings in a mist of nervous breath
blanket my safe haven
and the sounds scream
in voices of past mishaps
Lost in lonely corridors,
wailing on aching skylights
permitting barely a moon glow psalm
to echo of their meaning
in songs from a distance,
of pleading skeletal desire

“I fear for I have no choice”

Doorways yawn in weary ovations
Slanted photos dot the landscape
Windows prove little relief from the cold
as heat pierces my cavities
Gaping wounds of frail memories
clutch at my last ounce,
measuring the words I am reading
Taking a breath, sweet, stagnant
Clawing for an exit only to find
it has stood before me all along
Baby steps, I have been told
Find that trust, slowly…make sure,
reach out for the hand
offered on a dreamscape message

“I fear for I have no choice?”

Eyes, so tired, weeping pools
out of focus since that day, open
(As if sunflowers float on silken wings
and glorious becomes an understood word)
slowly and tentatively,
blinking sorrow’s pathway free
to lead me to you
The imprint of that butterfly
marks my palm in red lines of love,
mapping my skin with a long awaited
smile, dry lips curve as I take your hand
trusting, for the very first time
realizing the feeling
which hath finally…set me free

“I no longer fear, for I have a choice”
 Nov 2014 Shannon Delaney
Jevaugn
The empty sound of wind coiling
Through hollow vessels whispers
Groans of unheard secret
Unseen from the lips from which
Its voice echoed  
Carrying a lace of touch...
Tis a familiar one,
But still a foreign tongue garnishes
The walls betwixt and between the ears.  
A hum, a song,  
An earthly reflection of love through
A faded sense of albatross...

A thickening dissonance
Between the soothing delay of
Fingertips buried in the roots of a
Sentient heart
Wrench and twist
The angel's song through a
Seasonal mind
Resonating the lost and the torn.
The Betrayer.
And in turn,
We always destroy what we've
Come to love.
Defenseless.
It IS...
a kind of Peace
hidden underneath the
Darker Veil.

Forgotten tenements
driven out by the Pale,

Intimate utterances
worthy of a mourning
Kings' tears
may trace sounds
of blood Red roses
rising in his moistened
garden grounds.

Forgotten tenements
driven out by the Pale,

It IS...
a kind of Peace
hidden underneath the
Darker Veil.
Good morning :)
Hues and mist raved through the storm and found me.
Little did the waves know that my soul was not free.

My heart became her starry night till now,
World's chaos challenged the brave and left with a vow.

O' beloved, understand that life is not here to thrash you,
but is those chances given to the moments to build your tomb.
Your places are both in the roots and buds where you bloom.
So when love comes along and asks why, say bliss at rare times paints itself blue.

A hypnotizing halo of life breathing in the darkest grave.
Upon your grace, my trails become my slave,
As I command my footprints to bring me far.

A knight I become and my quest is to save.
Even when you turn into those stars-
My oath still remains to erase all your scars.
Divino Sonetto-

This poetry form was presented by the part Italian poet Divena Collins. It follows the Italian 8/6 pattern, but her Scottish upbringing makes a statement with the sestet, and a much different tempo. Here is the pattern;
a. a. b. b. . . c. d. d. c. . . e. e. f. . . e. f. f.
or .a. a. b. b. . . c. d. d. c. . . e. e. f. . . e. g. g.
So here I am,
Praying to a God that won't answer me,
The one you don't believe in but still curse for your shortcomings.
And as tears fall to my lips,
I realize they taste a hell of a lot like whiskey and your broken promises.
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