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birds sing tunes gay
on this lovely bright spring day
their songs nicely play
My indefatigable soul
Patiently waits for its mate.
The many years  gone by....
Would not at all matter to me.
Faces come and go,
Changes occur without a warning...
It could be now, or tomorrow,
It could be much much later.
At this point in my life,
My soul is not to be discouraged...
My soul cannot be disheartened.
So long as there's breath within me,
Patiently, it would wait for its mate....
My indefatigable soul.......


(Some lyrical spur(ts) of the moment....from long ago..)

Sally

Copyright 2013
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
I am a man, grandfather to four.
Adherent to the same religion,
Poetry.

Breathing through mine eyes,
Exhaling carbon words,
That with time and pressure become
Poems, verbal musical notes upon life.

Each motion, from tiny to grand,
A capsule of expression,
That if examined under microscope,
Familial DNA, interconnected tissue,
Discovered, tho logic says,  
Time and distance render impossible.

But this is a diamond
This is a writ to be slipped
Upon the finger, the heart, the essence,
Of the only Banyan tree I have hugged.

This poem but a fig,
In the cracks of kindness,
The crevices of caring,
It has slow germinated.

You dear, Sally,
My host,
A building upon I can lean,
When wearied spirits uproot
My surficial composure.

Your seeds carried from east to west,
By a fig wasp, a bird unknown,
An ocean voyager, of indisputable vision, strength.

This seeded messenger, word carrier,
Supplanted in me, and your pupils,
Jose-Bolima-Remillan
Xavier-Paolo-Joshh-Mandrez
Whose very names breathe poems,
in others too, like me and Atu,
Seeds to become new roots, but you,
Our Host official and forever
Planter of trees of loving kindness.

You already know with love and affection,
I call you Grandma Sally,
And when you ask, beseech,
I cannot refuse.

Together we will will banish the sad,
Acknowledge we, that life's ocean,
A mixture of many, even sad, a necessity.

But I promise that will turn it into
Something simple, something good.
For you have asked and I answer you
Right here right now - your wish,
My objective, deep rooted like you,
Like an old banyan tree,
Your roots spread far, spread wide.

So some eve, when to the beach, to the sky
You glance, smile, no matter what, troubles dispersed,
For the reflection of you, seeds, full fledged trees now,
Bending skywards, in search of your rays of expression,
Your maternal wisdom rooted, spread so wide, globally,
All over this Earth, is visible from your
Beloved Philippines.


---------------------------------------
In her own words..

I am a widow,
with five remarkable granddaughters....
all beautiful, intelligent girls.
It is such a waste not to write....
each morning that unfolds is filled
with things to write about....
the people, the birds,
the trees, the wind,
the seas,
everything we set our eyes on,
they are all
poetry in motion.
Life itself is poetry,
I always have pen and paper within reach.
My past experiences are a
never-ending source
of ideas and words for my poems....
I shall write until time permits me,
"til there's breath within me."

-------------------------------------------------
A banyan (also banian) is a fig that starts its life as an epiphyte (a plant growing on another plant) when its seeds germinate in the cracks and crevices on a host tree (or on structures like buildings and bridges). "Banyan" often refers specifically to the Indian banyan or Ficus benghalensis, the national tree of India,[1] though the term has been generalized to include all figs that share a characteristic life cycle...
Like other fig species (which includes the common edible fig Ficus carica), banyans have unique fruit structures and are dependent on fig wasps for reproduction. The seeds of banyans are dispersed by fruit-eating birds. The seeds germinate and send down roots towards the ground.

The leaves of the banyan tree are large, leathery, glossy green and elliptical in shape. Like most fig-trees, the leaf bud is covered by two large scales. As the leaf develops the scales fall. Young leaves have an attractive reddish tinge.[6]

Older banyan trees are characterized by their aerial prop roots that grow into thick woody trunks which, with age, can become indistinguishable from the main trunk. The original support tree can sometimes die, so that the banyan becomes a "columnar tree" with a hollow central core. Old trees can spread out laterally using these prop roots to cover a wide area.
Over 1900+ reads as Nov. 10th.
Sally, That is a lot of friends and admirers you have!
She came into this world
By accident.
Never planned,
But her parents
Didn’t regret a thing.

She grew up with
Her hands stretched out,
Hungry for knowledge
And taking in
Everything she
Could reach.

She was only 9 years old,
When she saw both her parents
Screaming at each other.
She didn’t understand,
“Why are mummy and
Daddy fighting?”
She asked as tears
Started to fall from
Her eyes to her
Delicate skin.
Her parents sighed as
They knew it wasn’t
Working out.
Things were crashing down.

She was only 10 years old
When her daddy left her.
As he carried his bags
Out the door,
She cried,
“Where are you going, daddy?”
He left, without a word.

She grew up,
Without love.
She grew up,
Believing  that
Love is the problem.

She never trusted love.
She never wanted love.
She never needed love.

She was only 13
When she took
Her first puff
Of cigarette.
She was hoping
That her misery
Would fade away,
Just like the smoke.

She was only 15
When she was suicidal.
Nobody knew about
Her struggles.
Nobody knew
She cried herself
To sleep, wishing everything
Was different and simple.
Her wrist was like
Her own canvas,
Covered with scars,
New and old.

She was drowning,
In her miseries.
All she wanted
Was someone to save her,
Or least teach her
How to swim,
But no one did.

She was drowning,
As she watched
People around her
Minding their own lives.

Till this day,
She’s still
Drowning,
Still
Struggling.

And no one
Cares enough
To save her.
 Oct 2013 Jose Remillan
Gat-Usig
Aniversari ng Mag-jowa
Mansari ng Mag-jowa,
Valentayns Dey
Sa loob ng bartolina.


May wan en onli,

Kahapon kaututan ko si Bebot,
Nakaposas ang mga kamay at 'di makakilos
Nakatali ang mga paa sa kadenang
May bolang bakal,
Si Bebot ay matitigok na.
Nagkaututan kami sa gawing madilim,
Tangan ang Gud Morning,
Pamunas ng luha.
Humahagulhol dahil kay Dok Puti,
Hinahanda na nito
Ang kanyang kahahantungan,
Said na said ang mga hikbi;
Pinid na pinid ang mga kagalakan,
Gustong pahintuin ang bawat saglit.
Di mapigil ang hatol,
Nasa dulo ng karayom
Nakasalalay ang lahat;
Unti-unting naniningkit si Bebot,
Ginagapos na siya ni Dok Puti sa katre;
Walang sinuman ang makakaampat
Sa naturang likido.
Kahapon, kaututan ni Dok Puti si Bebot.
"Lav, sapitin mo nawa ang iyong katahimikan."


Sa Valentayns Dey,
kahit sinong mag-jowa.
-  Juan Dela Cruz, M.D.


P.S.
Alay sa bawat magkasintahang pinagtagpo't
pinaglayo ng pagkakataon.
 Oct 2013 Jose Remillan
Gat-Usig
Masiglang-masigla ang anino ng mga poste ng MeRalCo.
Nagmamadali ang mga oto,
Hinahabol ang matulin na tik-tak ng alas-otso.
Maingay ang mga gusali.
Maraming mukha ang bawat bintanang parihaba.
Ang mga mata ng Umaga
Ay waring mga hinog na mangga.



- P.T.Simon
 Oct 2013 Jose Remillan
Gat-Usig
Narito, isang pirasong papel,
Nakalamukos sa loob ng isang basurahan,
Basurahan na siyang pinagtapuan,
Basurahang taguan ng mga dumi ,
Dumi na mula sa tao,
Taong bingyan ng layang pamunuan ang mundo.

At ang papel, nakaririmarim, nakasusulasok, isang walang silbi.
Ang pahina ay napuno ng tinta.
Maraming-maraming tinta.
Nangingitim, kumakalat, naninikit.
Nakahihilakbot ang kulay ng sumaboy na tinta.
Mababasa ang titik na nalikha ng tinta.
Pati ang buong pahina nito'y waring nangungusap.

Ang kanyang buong piraso, kumpul-kumpol na may mga naglipanang uod.
Naggagapangang uod na bumubulok sa buong pahina.
Tinutunaw hindi ng mga bulate kundi ng ibang nilalang.
Hinangin ang pahina ng papel.
Nagpulasan ang mga uod sa tapunan.
Mula sa dulo, gitna, sa magkabilang gilid.
Naninipsip sa napupunit na piraso.

May naghagis ng isang kalat.
Inihagis sa ibabaw ng papel.
Gumalaw ang papel.
Nagitla ang naghagis.
Isang tipak na lupa, kinuha ng naghagis.
Ipinukol sa papel.
May ilan pang nakakita.

Ang papel, basambasa ang piraso at unti-unting napupunit
May mga naguguluhan sa mga nakasaksi.
Ang papel ay walang magawa.
Lumalambot ang bawat hibla.
Ang papel, sa kanyang pagkatunaw
Ay akin ding pagkatunaw.

Maya-maya, isinapluma ko ang lahat-lahat
Kalakip ang mga tulad kong papel...
Sa... aklat.
Sa... tula.
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