And Gaza Says," O the Sons of Adam
The people of Moses
The people of Muhammad
Stop Will You?

I feel the Tankers on my body
They are trampling me

I hear the Missiles
They pierce through My Soul

I see the tearful Widows
the cries of the children
Fear in the Eyes
the Funerals

I hear the pleas
I hear the screams
the cries for help
the prayers
the curses
the complaints to the Almighty


Blood is Smeared on to My Face
Human blood- a Precious blood
The blood of Adam

I am ploughed
often daily
to bury the lifeless
the young
the old
the men
the women
the infants

I see debris,destruction
devastation
the helplessness

I feel the hatred
in your hearts
your words
translated through your actions

I wonder
Why are the innocents paying the price
of this War?

O Sons of Adam
O the Sons of Abraham
Don't Forget
O You the People of Moses
O You the People of Jesus
O You the People of Muhammad
Your Lord
Your God
is but One

Fear Him

He hates Oppression

Did you all
forget
the Fate of the Pharaoh?

the Worst of the Oppressors."

( Peace be Upon All the Prophets)

I never got to meet my father...
He died when I was nine months old,
But his presence, I always felt
While I was growing up,
Even up to this day...

He would often visit me in my dreams,
Told me not to worry or despair,
Took my hand,
Told me I could go with him..
Which I almost did...

A few times, in high school
I felt a light push on my back
When my Home Economics teacher
Almost caught me nodding...I was
Too bored, to focus on her sewing lessons...

I was always saved from falling
Each time I climbed the guava tree...
I feel some kind of force stopping me,
Standing ahead of me,
Whenever I cross the street, even now...

My late aunt said she found me
Looking up and giggling
When at three or five years old,
I played by myself beside
My father's tall and sturdy book case...

I see his face when I go through
His dwindling collection of
Edgar Allan Poe books, including his
Law books, and a few western pocketbooks left,
All, with mottled pages now...

The matrimonial bed he shared
With my late mother is still in use...
His portrait is hung on our wall...
Today, the fifteenth of June, his birthday,
I look through his eyes, and-----

In silence, I greet him,
"Happy birthday, papa,
Happy Father's Day, as well."
In my mind, my father lives,
And my own stories of him therein dwells...

Sally

Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

May bagong emosyon na sumisibol,
May bagong sakuna na nagsisimula.
Kailangan itong mapigilan ng aking Isipan
Bago pa 'to maunahan ng aking Puso
Na tumitibok, tumitibok,
Tumatakbo!
Pabilis ng pabilis
Tuwing naaalala ko ang
Himig ng kanyang tawa
at hugis ng kanyang ngiti.
Ay!
Kailangan nitong mahinto
Ngayon din.

O Puso, sulong!
Lumaki at lumago.
Hanggang ngayon isa ka pa ring musmos na bata:
Mapaglaro at mapagbiro.
Walang nalalamang masamang hangarin ngunit
Wala ring sinusundan na mabuting tuntunin.

O Puso, urong...
Kapag may naghahamon sa iyo.
Dahil nga isang bata ka pa rin,
Matulog ka lang ng mahimbing.
Huwag kang lumaban,
Sumabay lang sa agos ng tadhana.
Maawa ka naman sa sarili mo
Huwag ngayon,
Huwag muna.

you make me
shiver.

no warm greeting and bright smile
can thaw your heart
enfolded in ice.
i thought
maybe there's a blizzard blazing in your mind,
burying your hopes in depths of snow
and you've grown
too cold and too numb
to notice.

at the short second you met my gaze,
i saw that your once bright brown eyes
now had a deep shade of blue:
painted with fear and anxiety.
and as you flicked your head away
i felt a chilly gale,
so frigid
it's enough to make any hot blood crystallize

who knew that your silence to me
can sound like a ravaging avalanche, crashing

i don't
want to touch you
for i'm afraid that i would
freeze,
unable to move
on and swallow the cold hard fact that
you really do
not care
for me
at all.

so i'll just huddle to myself,
stay frozen,
and shiver
as i think of the catastrophe
that has happened
to you
and of you.