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sally-a-bayanPoems
We worked hard for these plans for so long these dreams, we feel, could never go wrong we have given them our all...they are nearly done, but, "nearly" doesn't mean it's been won deep inside, we keep alive their essence and we choose to stretch our patience... We wait... Notes have yet to be written on the bars the tunes seem to be playing among the stars lyrics are springing back and forth "pen-rubber-pen," is a cycle that can't be fought they are songs taking too long to be sung in the air, they fly, like arrows being slung in spaces too far flung... We sit on the edge, while waiting... They are verses that falter have yet to make it on white paper altered thoughts, words displaced lines, here and there...disorganized hanging... with unknown endings work is pending we desperately seek for the missing element to come up with meaty, meaningful contents... We console ourselves, and say, "maybe later..." They are faces that hide there, at the back of our minds smiling at us in our darkest hours they make us cry, laugh, turn our moods so dour keeping us company twenty-four/seven, we fervently wish, the odds would become even yes...we long for their physical presence but....it can't...it just doesn't...happen! they keep stalling courage could be waning... It is hard to comprehend why...we're still willing to wait. When most days of life have passed and while waiting, we breathe our last, our songs, our meandering loves, our dreams, our long written poems with scattered themes, like shredded paper, shall go with the final heave of our chests fly away, flee to the open spaces...to find rest, and, after wandering all over...they would then settle down to finally become the color of the ground. One day, things would fit into their proper places, people will wear smiles on their faces nothing would seem to be wrong the air would be filled with songs from new lives, new loves...risen from the fall from life's cycle....these unknowing souls their palms, with lines and colors, much brighter they could be luckier they have better chances...they show more courage the wind brings good fortune, they now have the edge... How are they to know, their most desired aspirations used to be other people's inspirations in the past generations? their dreams realized had once been, Things that were not meant to be. Sally Copyright JUNE 2014 Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
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Aug 3, 2015
Aug 3, 2015 at 7:49 PM UTC
Things That Were Not Meant To Be
We worked hard for these plans for so long these dreams, we feel, could never go wrong we have given them our all...they are nearly done, but, "nearly" doesn't mean it's been won deep inside, we keep alive their essence and we choose to stretch our patience... We wait... Notes have yet to be written on the bars the tunes seem to be playing among the stars lyrics are springing back and forth "pen-rubber-pen," is a cycle that can't be fought they are songs taking too long to be sung in the air, they fly, like arrows being slung in spaces too far flung... We sit on the edge, while waiting... They are verses that falter have yet to make it on white paper altered thoughts, words displaced lines, here and there...disorganized hanging... with unknown endings work is pending we desperately seek for the missing element to come up with meaty, meaningful contents... We console ourselves, and say, "maybe later..." They are faces that hide there, at the back of our minds smiling at us in our darkest hours they make us cry, laugh, turn our moods so dour keeping us company twenty-four/seven, we fervently wish, the odds would become even yes...we long for their physical presence but....it can't...it just doesn't...happen! they keep stalling courage could be waning... It is hard to comprehend why...we're still willing to wait. When most days of life have passed and while waiting, we breathe our last, our songs, our meandering loves, our dreams, our long written poems with scattered themes, like shredded paper, shall go with the final heave of our chests fly away, flee to the open spaces...to find rest, and, after wandering all over...they would then settle down to finally become the color of the ground. One day, things would fit into their proper places, people will wear smiles on their faces nothing would seem to be wrong the air would be filled with songs from new lives, new loves...risen from the fall from life's cycle....these unknowing souls their palms, with lines and colors, much brighter they could be luckier they have better chances...they show more courage the wind brings good fortune, they now have the edge... How are they to know, their most desired aspirations used to be other people's inspirations in the past generations? their dreams realized had once been, Things that were not meant to be. Sally Copyright JUNE 2014 Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
...fell again into the rhyming trap...oh, well...
#dreams#verses#songs#faces#thingsthatwerenotmeanttobe
sally-a-bayan
Written by
sally-a-bayan
F/Filipino
Aug 3, 2015
Aug 3, 2015 at 7:49 PM UTC
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