Colors, have ways of making us soar,
or fall.......they make us buoy...
they, too, can divide and isolate...
long ago,  a magazine
was colored and identified for a reason.....
also,
a kind of blue-sy music, upon which i groove,
...was named for the same reason...
.............a magazine..... a music genre,
became instruments...and parts of
dark and golden moments.......recalled
and enjoyed, every now and then...they're
painted.......registered in people's minds....

life is a magazine of stories, of  poetry...
life is a jukebox...filled with soundtracks
life is an album...a collection of smiles
...of colorful images and emotions
reddish brown at first...turning yellow brown,
with tinges of taupe.......mottled through the years,
turning...into fading shades  of sepia...

i refuse my late summer moments on earth
............to be done in Grisaille,
painted, only in tones of grey and dark green...
...it is written...one day, life would be hued with
subdued colors...the blues, silvers and grays,
...........will be cold as winter...

but, until then,
i'd rather be consumed with liveliness
i would adorn my days with peach and lilac
blossoms, hang fuschia pink pennants
on my wall....to brighten my disposition,
i'd practice...play the guitar once again,
i'll wear my ruffled, dappled-purple skirt,
and yellow converse sneakers when i walk on
the pavement....under blue skies that enhance
greens, and gold...colors that breathe existence
transforming weariness to courage...

wherever...whenever, however possible,
i speak, whisper to  God words of gratitude,
and endless thanksgiving...i  pray for strength.    
and acceptance........prepare myself...when,
.....i, too...would face my own moments,
...............of fading sepia.

Sally

Copyright August 6, 2017
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

I religion in the forest
I worship what I see
the majesty of mountains
the purity of the sea

I am the deity
along with four legged creatures
and night owls
the serpentine slither

I claim no following
for all is known is
my memory

my sight my empathy my love my being
and I sit on a log
and worship this orb

like a true believer
that I am the creation
the superstar the reason
the prejudice

the forbearing

all I see all I hear is inside
so inside must be god
the visions
are but tricks

and I sit on that log and watch
the river flow and the storms grow
and sunrises

and get it
I am the screen
to a movie

and what I make of it
is all

Cné
I believe in love...
In a blink of an eye, a life goes by
extinguished in the end.
And all that's done returns to dust.
No omen can portend.
Yet love lives on, infecting all
and never really dies
It goes beyond the realm of man
to live in fragrant skies.
And on the spacious sea of clouds,
it waits to find a port.
And then it anchors in a soul
to caper and cavort.

Traveler
Perhaps
In the emotional beginning
When head was yet held high
Stumbling through clouds
Of bright blurry skies
Love was a foolish quest
Of paralyzing highs
And now you're telling me
Love can never die?

Cné
Translucent,
the clouds we've sailed
and golden sunsets made
Kisses that we could have had
while watching rainbows fade.
Alas, a life's too short to spend
in fathomless regret.
Perhaps the wheel will turn again
another lifetime yet.
And so, my love
the voyage goes on,
to "golden years"?
We'll see.
Until
the other side reveals
what shall become of "we".

Traveler
Indeed
A dangerous theory
I can't imagine
Love roaming free
The source of all misery
Another invisible ghost
Possessing unaware host
Surely
Love is the blood we bleed
All across time and history
Love is more than a mere key
More than a want
Love is a need...


Cné  
Traveler Tim

I am stronger than I ever knew
I have found thanks to you
Change keeps coming at me
and I just let it blow right on through
I've made bad mistakes
but I don't have to admit defeat
To fight fear we must first take that leap
I might not have won the fight just yet
but I will never just lie down with regret
Change can be scary...
but do you know what's scarier?
Allowing fear to hold you back
No more expectations....
**I am responsible
for my own happiness :)

I have dealt with this before,
This feeling...
I am dealing with it again,
This feeling...

The outer look matters
Rather the taste of inner
The shape and color of a bottle
Looks fancy and appealing
Rather its contents, so bitter

Beauty on face, complexion
So beautiful
Inside a dark, deep infested nest
Ugly and untruthful

Painted figures, expensive makeup
Lucious lips
Pleasing to ones eyes
Caring heart, kind soul, unpleasant appearance
Yet, doubtful cries

Whatever is beautiful, matters!
Regardless to the consequences
Most see the outer appearance and judge
Hardly see the innocent smile,
                            ...of the less fortunate

©sim