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 Jul 2014 Helen
K Balachandran
White heron,
now I, in solitude  eye
under the melancholy moon,
charmer of my heart,
even silver clouds
envy your easy grace
when you wing
towards horizon
undaunted even
by the wintry darkness
rushing forward.
Far above you are,
beyond my reach
are you a mirage?
in the rice field,
while tending
young saplings,
in muddy clothes
my eyes fell on
your immaculate
white  dress
aha! I'll never forget
that smile
that moment you
made me yearn
for your magic
for always,
was it my fault?
I lost grip in
immediate reality
and soared up
I don't know
how it happens
look at me I am still
learning to navigate
the treacherous waves
of winds from east and west,
though the purple star
watching me from her perch
winks and sends
her ardent love messages
to me incessantly.
But you are flying
to lands too far,
never opened your heart,
I am like a candle
burning at both ends
eaten up by the love unrequited,
and not able to love the
distant star that loves me
expecting nothing in return
 Jul 2014 Helen
JM
Twin flame
 Jul 2014 Helen
JM
She is my Goddess
I, her Divine Masculine
A sacred union
 Jul 2014 Helen
Sally A Bayan
Icing...

This Sunday morning dawned so differently
I woke up to a lively disposition
The fresh air surrounding me smells of flowers
so rose-fragrant..

This early, I think of you.....

And I see the cream on my coffee
The strawberry jam on my toast

I feel I have plenty of honey to sweeten my lemonade
On a hot summer day


A dash of pepper....plus,
A pinch of a bay leaf,
To enhance the taste of my
Chicken Adobo...


Always, on late night snacks,
You are the ice cream topping
On my slice of apple pie,


The bubbles in my glass of wine
When I am celebrating,
When basking in your presence,
In our happy moments together...


I'll even tell you
You are some kind of sweet music
To start the good memories flowing
When we are apart...


I am thinking,
Even in the years to come,
You shall always be the finishing touch...
The icing,
To complete my whole being...

In my life,
I have never been so certain....


Sally

Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
...felt good from start to finish, so this must be a feel-good write...
 Jul 2014 Helen
K Balachandran
She stupefy truth
with her finely crafted lies
that stand head held high
without even
the slightest sign
of embarrassment.
She waters the seeds
with acid, deliberately
even manage to get kudos
for her 'kind intervention'
Her 'collected venom'
in real, is a counterfeit concoction
more deadly than the real,
that attracts unlimited attention
and the loudest rounds of applause,
for it's new shade of blue
when displayed with special effects
for all to view.
In her presence, fairness loses its meaning
foulness like her, usurps it, makes its own,
becomes the reigning queen!
Whatever she does
has a dark beauty,
even the true angel of evil
would greatly envy her.
 Jul 2014 Helen
Sally A Bayan
Dance

The  neighbor's stereo was playing tango music
too loud, it made me look at my red painted toes.
I realized, my feet have not even swayed
for so long now,
they've grown timid and wary
of making the wrong step.

All i want is to dance,
to be safe, warm,
close to one, as close as
cheek to cheek,
go left, then right,
lean, cling, then hold hands,
be held on the waist,
dip, then circle gracefully,
and step, a stretched arm away,
be brought closer once again,
hearing clearly the sighs
as the music reaches a high.

But, it was a chicken dance i had joined then,
the shaking and jiggling were so
repulsive...convulsive
confusing.
it mattered not who fell out of the tempo.
the desire waned,
fires die,
fires died, alright.

My feet are raring to swing back
to be alive once more
on life's dance floor
no more falls, trips or missteps this time
i'd like to dance with a slower beat
with more grace now
who knows,
this could be my best dance
ever!

This has got to feed my jazzy mood
play my chosen music
maybe do the shimmy for a while,
then shift to the bossa nova,
swing to its cool, hip-py rhythm.

Whatever the beat may be,
my partner and i...
we shall blend in......be it mambo,
the rumba, cha-cha, even tap dance,
to celebrate this new chance on life.
Together,
we shall dance the samba on the wide floor,
let the hours fly by.

Then, with a waltz,  we'll take it easy
until we finally get weary,
until we decide
to slow drag
the night
away.

  ***

Sally

Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
 Jul 2014 Helen
John F McCullagh
The release was unintentional, the Public was assured.
No vaccines were available, not that they’d have cured.
For every ten infected, they knew that eight would die.
more lethal than Ebola, and the people wondered why?

It was born in a researcher’s lab, a variant of the flu;
the strain from 1918 that murdered millions too.
Why he was let to do this work, I cannot understand.
Sadly we can’t ask him as he died by his own hand.

It preyed on old and young alike, it slaughtered rich and poor.
The dead were left unburied, and the pestilence slaughtered more.
It was clear the Horsemen rode that night, we heard their banshee scream.
We decided if we were to die, that first we’d have Poteen.

Poteen is a potent brew, distilled three times by hand.
Its an old family recipe handed down by my old man.
As golden drops poured in each glass we raised a toast on high:
“We salute thee, Mighty Lord, we who are about to die.”

A Warmth of stupefaction went coursing through our veins.
When we finally sobered up, no pathogens remained.
Who knew my father’s recipe could put the plague to flight?
We saved as many as we could; no man went dry that night.

The Sun shone on a brave new world, the air was fresh and clean..
The rivers still flowed to the Seas and Eagles still took flight
The Politicians all had died; both the Left and Right.
We left the Cities far behind and lived upon the land,
And never was a jug of “dew” far from my right hand.
Inspired by an article about a University of Wisconsin researcher who has created a more lethal variant of the 1918 Spanish flu. It is safely contained in the laboratory...so far.
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