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My poetry happens when I rip my emotions
from their safe harbors and throw them into
my riptide of drink and music and crazy and
jump from thought to thought ****** like a
puzzle with pieces tossed but I see lines and
words hook to words and touch nerves and heart.
(parts of an old poem-edited)

:::::::::::::::
Was awake, 'til Black Saturday's tail end,
through Easter Sunday's dawn...a day potent
with rejoicing, renewing faith, and the essence
.of one's presence
while seeking quietness
amidst the busyness
of one's existence
how does one forgive....forget
the wrong, when it still affects, and upsets?
how does one love tirelessly, without regret?
:::::::::::::
these thoughts come to me
when writing prose, or poetry.
when turning to shelley....or rossetti
the hours turn to a sentimental journey.
while understanding their lines,
i also ponder on my life...my own lines.
a mug of steaming creamed coffee, clears
the old English cloud, shooing away my fears,
......if it's my day.......if i'm in  luck,
a few lines arise easily.....or, i could get stuck.
:::::::::::::::
when winds aren't in my sail, they stubbornly
steer my boat towards that river lull, so droopy.
i paddle away, painstakingly,
when river runs dry, or dryer... i just let it be.
as long as coffee steams on......brewing,
my mug, i keep refilling...leaves me thinking
of  Elizabeth Barrett Browning's "sonnet 43..."
facing a mirror, i'd ask: "how do i love thee?"
i'd say back: "lemme count the ways, dearie."
::::::::::::::::
i see me, reeling on the bar of life's daily
circus, counting the ways, loving, going off key...
rather than fall, i turn those moments into poetry
keeping silent for hours....climbing dark valleys,
rising the next morning, to start my litany,
i ask myself anew: " how do i love thee? "
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::



Sally


©Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
April 28, 2019
The World Requires Edmund Black’s Random Acts of Doughnut Kindness (1/36)

Edmund!


a friend mutual on HP
sent me your poem below
asking me to respond appropriately,
close the tale, he said,
and that I would understand,
thinking by being marked,
I had some expertise in the matter

perhaps you are unaware that the world
exists only because there are at least thirty six^
righteous men on the earth and
personally believe,
there are more

who they are, a well kept secret,
but secrets tend to leak so...

only one,
Mr. Edmund,
employs a dozen doughnuts
(chocolate frosted)
to follow through
on the most important
commandment human
love thy neighbor
with a dozen holies

I’m told that like certain loaves of bread,
a dozen doughnuts
now have along with
wine and water
a place in the repertoire of the selector of the
thirty six

which needs noting,
a dozen
is 1/3 of thirty six

sometimes the answers are in the wholes of the holiest!


<•>
Edmund black
Jul 15

My Perfect Morning

The climate in the
World may change
But it will never
Change me
not for a moment
I truly have the most
amazing  life ,
Couldn’t be any better
I get up every morning
Next to  this gorgeous
amazing woman
Get my morning kiss
Maybe a few morning kisses
in my open mouth
If you get my drift
Cause you know I’m in love
Sit back in the back patio porch
Listening to Mother Nature’s  
Performance
while reading hellopoetry
Few minutes later
I told my lady  I had to
Go run  some errands
Not realizing yet
What’s up ahead,
Arrived and
While in line at Chrispy kreme’s
A little boy about 5 years of age
Loosing his mind over some
Chocolate frosted
Mother and father told him
They couldn’t afford it
They were only there for coffee
Little boy started
crying hysterically
My Heart Cries out for him
And chivalrously I’ve waited
in line right behind them
Just couldn’t allow
That to take place
I told dad if it was okay
I would love to buy the boy
a dozen chocolate frosted
He accepted and gave
me a hand shake
Mom teared up and dad
wouldn’t Stop thinking me
I hate seeing good
People like this
But anyway,
What an awesome moment
A moment of love sharing
And here’s the most
Amazing part of
my early morning outside
Of my morning kisses
I got the longest hug
From the little man
A handshake
From dad
And a kiss on the cheek
From mom
What can be any better
Than the life I live
I do what I want
And it’s mostly
Helping other people
That’s all that matters.
Having meanings in
Other people’s lives
Fulfills me ,
And what more
Can I say ,
My perfect
          Morning

I live life
For the inexplicable
Moment
Life is love and love
     Always gives
                    ALWAYS
^Mystical Hasidic Judaism as well as other segments of Judaism believe that there exist 36 righteous people whose role in life is to justify the purpose of humankind in the eyes of God. Jewish tradition holds that their identities are unknown to each other and that, if one of them comes to a realization of their true purpose, they would never admit it:

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tzadikim_Nistarim
breathing the turquoise like lavender,
and sipping the blue summer.
bitter cold clouds glide and morph lava lather,
floating whispers cut by sweet pineapple sunshine.

soon, a moment, now
rhythms ripple the sky like skipping stones
we jump the music like puddles
splashing in the frequencies.

cobalt bass rumbles the earth hungry,
pumps the air with springing spirals
pushing and pulling the senses,
reverberating through cells.

heavy mud humming, stomping
echoes through our atoms dizzy;
balancing tuned body to innate electricity
the fizz of circulating lemonade energy.

we jump the music like puddles
splashing in the frequencies.

strawberry melodies spilling ribbons,
dolphin leaps of the spaces inbetween beats,
lines of colours overlapping,
colliding, mixing, merging, blending
in with the forest.

washing over souls the life fire sparkles
like a clear water cleansing harmonies,
sound waves crashing against inertia.
phosphorescent glow of re-charged love
for the world, for being, animation

flowing through burnt smoky ashes
of sapphire charcoal skies;
dimmed radiation of chlorophyll emerald days.
the smell of salt, dry bark, fluffy carbon mists,
trembling lights softening the eyes'
grip on outlines, loosening lies.

watching the cycles of patterns
tumbling colours through a mill rotating,
and the silence of listening
when the music comes to an end.
Something I've been working on for a long time on and off since 2015.
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