To the world you're just a rose
To me you're my one and only
You weep because you don't feel loved
You ask to be held so I hold you tightly
Your thorns cause my blood to spill
I try not to think of the pain it causes
I hold tighter and you cry louder
And nothing seems to make you blossom
And this may not be worth it for me
But you still ask to be loved and held
But I do it and you can't recognize it

Enslave me for I wish not be free
Do what you wish and ravage me

Relinquish my freedom my only treasure
I'll trade it all to drown in this pleasure

I succumb to all of your fantasies
Create art from lust with our anatomies

maybe one day someone will come into my life and actually mean what they say

I'm here dealing with the memory of our love every day
It feels like a pinch begging to be caressed until the pain is eased
But there is no physical area to be relieved
The ache is deep within and you left it behind when you walked away

A poet writes
about truths,
what is, and what is not...
a poet writes about nature,
people....the sun, moon and stars,
a poet dares to feel...to see the whole world...


A poet writes...
to vent his/her own shares of  joy
of agony...and aches...miseries...afflictions
as well as those of the others'
a poet reads...sees through someone else's eyes,
face...words...voice...and actions...

A poet writes,
to euphemize the sharp truths and facts in life
make them less painful to the ears
to at least, soften the pointed edges of every trial...to hurt less
to pad the impact of a fall...from frustration and despair
and, through words...encourage one...to rise...when fallen...

A poet writes
to cite reasons...so a hurting one would believe again
have faith in life...in love...again
to reach out...to those who have gone far, in the dark
and take them back to the fold ...of the bright side...

A poet writes...
to tell the woes of those oppressed
the world over
those tortured...violated...and killed
of children abused
their future stolen away from them...

A poet writes
of how nature has been exploited...and maltreated
how human beings
would one day disappear,
how nature...would be around.......no matter what...

A poet is sensitive
observant
and vigilant...
A poet is compelled to see and tell all truths...
truths of yesterday...those that are here now...happening
and those of tomorrow.....and beyond...
All these,
A poet must write...
...nothing more
...and nothing less...


Sally

Copyright January 3, 2016
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan



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