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



[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[(())]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]­]]]]]]]]]]

silly me, i've been watching sunsets all alone
silly me, i feel displacement in a place i'm supposed to call home
silly me, i don't take those happy pills every night
silly me, i feel empty inside
silly me, all i think about are people and places far away
silly me, i thought i was already alright
silly me, i lost the rhythm of life again

my love,
you've no reason to fear you'll fade out.
your presence will echo through mountains,
your laughter is a song i'll sing for years,
your light will always guide
city dwellers as they make their way
to their little coffee shops and offices,
your dance will live in the way flowers sway,
your doe eyes will live in the wonders of the stars

and when the world turns to ashes
i promise
your golden heart will remain intact
and the words you wrote will never die
because how could i
ever forget a face like yours?

of all the lives i could have lived,
i am glad i happen
to be in the same lifetime as yours.

but again here comes the world,
with all its silly ironies—
its vastness that sets people apart
miles and miles;
our paths crossing
is quite out of the picture.

i know this.
you don't.
i think of you.
you don't.

but why do i keep waiting for you
as if i'd suddenly find you outside,
standing by my door
and waiting for me too?