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 Jul 2014 nehyl
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 nehyl
Liam
humid sounds of city stillness
wafting warmly, quietly
through bedtime screens

melancholy windows open
deep within my soul
don't know why...

love is allowed to fade
from mundane view
treasure unrealized

nurturing appreciation
materially displaced
don't know why...
 Jul 2014 nehyl
Nat Lipstadt
As the surface clouds cleared
and the sovereign sun arose
My perspective was no longer fixed
on what lay below
Yet on what awaits before me…..the unknown.
I fly, with the rocky shoreline behind me.

Maria

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

the emperor of the solar system
demands obeisance
but for half of our life
ceding us to the
super moon's sequestration,
a velvet coated, cosseted,
the other-half-of-a-lifetime
remainder reminder
of the divide no poet
can supersede

yet, even these planet pulling,
tide churning bodies
are eclipsed,
their torrented powers
have human
shortcomings

orbits prescribed, predictable,
they too can only look down
upon us and wonder
what if and what lays beyond
their lawful curves

but I can look
up* to you
watch you, human,
so powerful are you!
you, you, you
can reset your course,
irrespective of tides, gravity

I can watch you
rephrase your life,
knowing that my eyes  
cherish what ere,
before in time,
what will be your
course selection

as I write,
I wonder if
my thoughts sufficiently
clarified,
do they require editing?

no matter,
the way they fall is
how they'll be served

I live with the same orbs,
and the winds that lifted your wings,
changelings of perspective,
now but the breeze that coats me,
were the hot air currents that lifted you,
now here, days later,
my genlest cloak,
as I inscribe to you

and the waters that I see,
not lapping today,
but modestly erupting,
the same Atlantic green
you have seen days pre-me,
but my shoreline sandy,
rocks removed,
for your comfort,
awaiting your arrival

the woman sends the seagull,
French Toast is ready,
(one piece, that talkative white bird's commission)
coffee hot n' salted
all ready, prepped to your taste

and for some reason random,
clueless why on, in my Long island offshoot sheltered isle
tears wave over my cheeks,
which I must erase/disguise,
before the repast begins

Surprise!
How came thee to be at our table?
How good the meal will taste,
now that you chosen to fly/stop by!

and this gibberish nonsensical
cup of words
is your welcoming present,
for here,
humans are the sovereigns,
and the celesetes bow to our wishes,
we select our own direction,
regardless of how the orbs try our souls,
we are most powerful human,
sovereigns of our selves
 Jul 2014 nehyl
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 nehyl
Terry Collett
I liked
the way you sat,
Yiska,

liked the way
your hands rested
on your knees.  

The sun was warm,
the sunlight
on your hair,

your eyes
wide open
as if wanting to drink

in the whole world.
I would lay there
head in your lap,

eyes gazing
at your neck,
there where the blouse collar

was open,
where the shadow
of a kiss remained.

And that time
you left the class room,
after double science,

the mouthed words:
love you,
moving through silence.
A BOY AND GIRL IN 1962.
 Jul 2014 nehyl
a m a n d a
i know
 Jul 2014 nehyl
a m a n d a
i know, sweet sister
how it feels to be
|turned inside out|
thrown to the wolves
i know, i know, i know.

enemies at the gates?
i know.
women like snakes?
i know.
feel yourself clawing to the surface?
i know.

no words will suffice
no words will mend
no words spit
and no words cried
i know, i know, i know.

lies upon lies upon lies?
i know.
still you care?
| i know |

nowhere to turn?
i know.
rage to waken the devil?
i know.
sadness.
| i know |

and
| i know you |
and i would be
*nothing without you.
 Jul 2014 nehyl
Nat Lipstadt
Lord:

no bequest requested.
no grant, no teach,
no need or greed asked
just a hey listen up,
if your attention is elsewhere

this is an
all-on-my-own
prayer that
my eyes only utter,
my tongue,
self-silenced,
can only watch
and must approve

in fact,
this is more
of a post
than a prayer,
updating you
on the state
of what we Earth temporaries
call the heart, mind, soul
and even our,
your-designed
crafted carrier,
my body

Mine enemies call me
cursed, embittered,
they are right - but fools,
they are
so much more than wrong,
for in this they err grievous,
for they cannot see their own
bile provisioning their end

ask for no interference
from the sidelines
neither from the
sapphire mother sky
that raised me up gloriously
this morning

nor the emerald earth
that this day
both gives and gets
common bounty
gives me sustenance,
as much spiritual
as grained cereal delights

lest you think this
just one more
me-centric rants,
let us recall this prayer,
is his very own,
prayer of gratitude

woman's head
rests on my chest,
her blonde highlights,
highlight our bed
and our
life

take and tuck her tresses
from eyes and forehead,
gentle them into place,
behind her ear,
and my hand journeys on
to the skin,
flesh of her backbone,
where my fingers
spread wide,
five messengers unique,
advising all of the 120 provinces of her
heart, mind, soul and body,
she is my beloved,
and I pray,
I am hers

learning still to
live with my means,
such as they are,
sometime mean,
sometimes extraordinaire

even this skill,
to express

is a gratitude
that though
comes and goes
like summer breezes
that as now we pray,
cools my AM coffee
while studying the
patterned mystery
of the bay's
Ave Maria waves
from that
dock-by-his-name

where my heart, mind, soul
drink wet inspiration
from the still-oak-tree'd-strong-surfaced waters,
the blue glue of
our common delighted,
uncommon existence

this skill,
at this moment mine,
to share and
not to keep,
for have I not,
been blessed,
by comrades-in-arms
that kneel beside me,
asking, imploring
to be stronger yet,
for their sakes,
for them!
I pray for
best they-can-muster
sustenance of peace
of heart, mind, soul
and body

here now,
my shills,
my failing skills
cannot help express
in new ways,
a gratitude
that has a shapeless shape,
no measurement app enabled
for their comfort,
our comfort,
best grasped as
an unbounded divinity,
how so I wish I could pray for them better


focus this prayer
on the good ones,
who so greatly honor us
with a greater-than-a-creator,
gift glorious of
friendship

this walnut crack'd shell,
this container ship of
heart, mind, soul,
here there,
a few leaks sprung,
no nicotine patches
to cover

this dented car,
this dented body,
new dent every day
from only-you-know-where
still gets me there,

but
other than taking care better,
it plods along and houses
the rearrangement of this prayer's words,
and that is what is called
plenty good enough,
self-sufficient

prayers that are too long
go to the back of line,
so here we be,
but here we do not wait!


for prayers of gratitude
are instantaneous fulfilled,
and thus granted even before
they are completed
the love I feel for all of the people, friends and poets in my life that give me
their best, their perspective...they know who they are..
7:32am on the dock by the bay, another blessing for which I don't have the words but keep on trying...they are..see below...
PostScript -  the pleasure of your affection for this writ, palpable and heart pounding but it only reflects the spirit that working wordsmiths share in loving camaraderie so deep in the hidden roots of this place. For which I swear I will never to cease to write upon this favorite optic topic a loving challenge...very humbly do I thank you
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