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the waters of the Sound, churning,
make my hands a five-in-hand knotted,
full of writhing wriggling writing poem
lines with an go<hesitant~go  slow, knowing that,inspiration is daring me, just as the  whitecaps are, troubled trolling so nearby,
gone can hear them mocking me with their
17knot  ‘breeze,’ your lyrics are but
blowing in the wind, soon enough will
shift to someone else, leavening your
deflation with a non~riser sour-dough mix
of unfinished sadness

in advance, knowings that every poem
more like a Monarch butterfly, here but
for a momentary traversal travesty,
gone faster than the eye blink, and this
infilling fleeing fleet urgency more
likely to die on the pyre of unfinished
rejected draftees, unselected for service

nonetheless ~ “follow” lyrics refuse me
to let~leave a poor tribute to vine~die, the
fingers speak in unison, urging me on,
not wanting to escape from this fantasizing
moment, urging me to tap tap tap
evermore!

“ Come taste and smell the waters of our time,”
Richie invites us all to find our own water,
let it work its magic upon our
nerve endings, but,
mine full of sendings, how?

can one sit seated in the Poet’s Nook,
same vista, no visa required ~
just to see it each time
differently, only the truly creative can love it
so much, that they tip into unexplored unexploited
veins of fresh blood and words
and eyes that discern and earn the ability
to write of the old with new inside insights

those! they are the ones you need to follow!
creators! with a small C, see them feel, see them divine with rod, their original water,
from which they emerged, and drink once more, for the water follows them like nutrients, raw materials that nourishes
and they in turn, return to their watery
birth site, their emotional placentae,
drawing from, returning to it new creations

for all of us to follow, fire our senses,
make us!
make art in all our hearts,
and don’t mind me, just

”close your eyes, child, and look at what I'll show you;
Let your mind go reeling out and let the breezes blow you,
And maybe when we meet then suddenly I will know you.
If all the things you see ain't
Quite what they seem,
Then don't mind me 'cos I ain't nothin' but a dream .
‘cos


We
ain’t nothing but a dream,
our disguised muses visiting,
pleading to be
usefully used…
A recurring line from “Follow” lyrics by Richard Merrick, sung most famously by Richie Havens, who made it his marquee signature song, and a standard, immediately ’ recognizable by anyone who listened to music in the Sixities (20th century)

<>
Let the river rock you like a cradle
Climb to the treetops, child, if you're able
Let your hands tie a knot across the table.
Come and touch the things you cannot feel.
And close your fingertips and fly where I can't hold you
Let the sun-rain fall and let the dewy clouds enfold you
And maybe you can sing to me the words I just told you,
If all the things you feel ain't what they seem.
And don't mind me 'cos I ain't nothin' but a dream.
The mocking bird sings each different song
Each song has wings - they won't stay long.
Do those who hear think he's doing wrong?
While the church bell tolls its one-note song
And the school bell is tinkling to the throng.
Come here where your ears cannot hear.
And close your eyes, child, and listen to what I'll tell you
Follow in the darkest night the sounds that may impel you
And the song that I am singing may disturb or serve to quell you
If all the sounds you hear ain't what they seem,
Then don't mind me 'cos I ain't nothin' but a dream
The rising smell of fresh-cut grass
Smothered cities choke and yell with fuming gas
I hold some grapes up to the sun
And their flavour breaks upon my tongue.
With eager tongues we taste our strife
And fill our lungs with seas of life.
Come taste and smell the waters of our time.
And close your lips, child, so softly I might kiss you,
Let your flower perfume out and let the winds caress you.
As I walk on through the garden, I am hoping I don't miss you
If all the things you taste ain't what they seem,
Then don't mind me 'cos I ain't nothin' but a dream .
The sun and moon both arise
And we'll see them soon through days and nights
But now silver leaves are mirrors, bring delights.
And the colours of your eyes are fiery bright,
While darkness blinds the skies with all its light.
Come see where your eyes cannot see.
And close your eyes, child, and look at what I'll show you;
Let your mind go reeling out and let the breezes blow you,
And maybe when we meet then suddenly I will know you.
If all the things you see ain't
Quite what they seem,
Then don't mind me 'cos I ain't nothin' but a dream .
And you can follow; And you can follow; follow...
Source: Musixmatch
Most of us grew up believing
that after death is when one  
gets to face heaven or hell;
but, as the earth gets older,
people's eyes and minds
change with the times, turning
deeper, coming up with various
analyses and conclusions.

Some fight for what they think,
that there already exists
heaven and hell here on earth.
to experience any of the two,
we......don't have to die.

While here on earth, we see
and live...we experience
the good and the bad, and
whatever is in between; we
breathe a mix of fresh and
stale air...survive countless
hardships, physical, mental
and emotional struggles,
are we already being
rewarded, maybe being
punished, for whatever
we deserve?

At this point, i remember
my folks words:  reward
and punishment starts
here on earth, while we still
breathe and have lucid minds
to identify the colors of our
past actions and decisions,
were they right or wrong?


sally b

© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
August 29, 2024
Roused by its touch,
a brush of cold air
on my whole being;
am now taking in
the cold 4am air, as
the eyes struggle to
a still dark horizon.

Yet, it's already brimming
with a series of breaths.

It is automatic,
this habit of taking in
each morning's freshness
by the window...by the door,
inhaling its serenity,
slowly extricating
the soreness,
the brokenness of days past,
lingering still, invading still
a most precious solitude.

The atmosphere, already
is filled with a variety
of breaths: of faith, of hope,
of silent prayers, and
of endless gratitude.

The fragrance of dawn
blends
with raw anticipation,
bits of uncertainty,
and not to forget
the most welcome aroma
of hot coffee,
as a new day kicks off.


sally b

© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
August 9, 2024/6:56 PM
i won't ever give you half of me,
or any portion other than the whole.

i will tell you everything,
all in the same breath.

i am sorry
i can not separate myself
into bite-sized pieces.

but it is not my fault
that you never learned
to chew.
Lonely on the shelf it stayed,  
Old and dusty, cracks displayed.  
Untouched until a hand did pry,  
And in its grasp, it broke to die.
The result of life is death
The price of life is your sanity
The toxins leach more from each drawn breath
Eating away at both mind and body
One day more replaces you with one day less
A simple enough concept conceptually
Everything living is born with this terminal illness
No one has ever survived this tragedy

©2024
we know each other better than we know ourselves...
Here you can write of many things
Of happiness or sad
Or like me write of creaking bones
And the good times that I've had
Our poetry speaks of many things
Some good and some so bad
Of deep emotions held inside
Some things that make you sad
You see your words will cross a thousand miles
Some distant person will understand
So take up the pen and write the words
And become a better man.
You see Jus Me poetry can become a release of emotions, better here than on some therapists couch. Here we come from all walks of life, here some person 10 thousand miles away will always understand....Joe
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