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A white egret, slowly treads on marshy land...picking food
unafraid, beside a big carabao that munches  grass...

...the tall reeds grow on their own, along riverbanks
........or on wide, unattended, sodden areas
no barbed wires control them from leaning, or sagging
they sway........where the wind goes.

Butterflies, dragonflies, birds
and bees in bright colors, hop on open blossoms
feasting on ripe seeds, nectar, and pollen grains.

and i, am wandering, flying, with these creatures,
perching on top of stalks.....even on carabaos' backs...
i am out there, in the open...swaying with the reeds
while dreams and inspirations spill over.
my mind roams free...no reins, no bounds,
above, and  below....or, even sideways,
i inch, and feel my way
through the breathing,
...and the non-breathing...

i am a poet...i write what i feel...what comes to my mind
i follow rules set before me...though, i have
my own existing rules  inside me...born with me
an innate knowledge of my limitations
as a person, as a parent, as a writer;
what should...and what shouldn't be,
what to reveal...and what to conceal,
how it is to be compassionate...and
how it is to be indifferent.

i am a poet, still hearing my late mother's voice,
emphasizing..."amor propio" and "delicadeza."

an  invisible *** of fresh yellow daffodils,
lives on in my mind...a discretion ingrained in me
a kind of freedom, i opened my eyes to....


Sally

Copyright September 20, 2016
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
A quick passing of a faint sound...reached my ear
A whisper of a whimper
Floated...in the silence of the midnight's atmosphere
Over coffee...i listened harder,
One minute, it was there
The next moment...it was gone

Morning quickly came
But, it just wasn't the same
Before noon was over,
The "weirdly quiet" backyard
Became crazy...with activities...

The whimpering started again....then stopped,
Followed by tiny whining voices
My pet's eyes were so alert...her looks shifting
From one pinkish creature to the other(s)
Like...she was doing the counting, herself...

Last time i looked, there were only three,
But, then...three became five!
Apart from Larry, Curly and Moe
I  need two more names.....
No, wait! I need three more, for
I now see six white, squirming square-faced puppies!

If i had things my way
My backyard would extend further, wider....i'd
have eight dogs, a mix of labradors and retrievers
An all female band...to  roam and guard the place
So that my pet dog, wouldn't have to be
As big and heavy as a pregnant ewe
Never again to suffer....the pain of giving birth to six puppies
Never again to whimper, in the stillness of one dark midnight...


Sally


Copyright April 10, 2016
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
...puppies were born in April...only four left, two died...
all mongrels, but so fierce, puppies and parents....
 Sep 2016 Stranger Blue
Ma Cherie
Short dark hair under
a dogeared baseball cap
tipped my way
a perfect smile on your face
crisp  white pocketed T-shirt
dark blue Levi jeans  
worn all-weather Chippewa boots
rugged, young and handsome
holding a stop sign for children
best crossing guard ever.

Cherie Nolan  © 2016
Lol musing
People out there who think
they're alone I want to tell them
that they're not; we all suffer from
causes of misunderstandings,
ingratitude and from the rest of
the world's conflicts;the only difference is
how we react and live with it each day.
If we unite together, we can make a
difference and find true happiness
no matter how much they poison or suppress us
using society and reality's flaws. The first step is
to start doing your best so that
you won't have to be dependent on other people
So when the time comes to get out there
and truly find yourself, no one will be
able to hold you back. With desire comes strength
patience, and endurance, but it'll be worth it
in the end when you're free and independent....
when you're able to say you've found true happiness
and a place of where you belong.... and that you're no longer alone.
we are angels
with cathedrals,
prophets, and poems
to prove it  

other species  
are not endowed
with such gifts:

the ceiling
of the Sistine Chapel
the pyramids, loosing
the bounds of earth
to walk on a moon...
psychoanalysis
the atomic bomb
Anthrax, dioxin
and gunfire
gunfire  

we are maggots
on rotting fruit, sated now
looking for a place to hop off,
to escape before the fruit falls fast  
to the ground

before the oceans rise
and the skies fill with ash
surely we can fly away

but we are wingless
angels, killer angels  
killer angels
Yesterday, in my city, two 13 year old girls were shot less than a 1000 meters from the school they attended--one died--I am sorry if I am not feeling very poetic--I don't usually engage in commentary--that is for the prophets and priests--but this popped out
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