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I reached out and held your hand.
"Mom...I'm pregnant"
I felt your grip loosen,
and I was afraid to meet your eyes,
wide with shock, with tears glistened.

You stood across from me,
arms folded, ready for my big news.
"Dad...I'm pregnant"
Your gaze fell and you wouldn't speak.
We both knew it was too soon.

"Congratulations, Miss McNabb.
You're pregnant!"
I know it's true and yet it seems so unreal.
Baby Lost...
...And Baby Reborn.
I don't know how to feel.
Excited of course,
the obvious choice.
But also scared, and maybe paranoid.
My little Oliver Sparrow never made it
out of the womb-
taken too soon.
I tried to forget the pain
but pain is much too real to be waived.

There is a baby inside of me.
I have seen it on the black and white screen.
I couldn't help the laughter that bubbled,
when I saw its little hiccups and kicks,
the way it seemed to dance inside.
I believe in my baby, I can't resist.
My baby is strong, that much I know,
just from seeing its dance-
almost like a restlessness to be free.
My baby is loved-
more loved than I could ever hope to be,
and yet I wish I had more, more, more love to give.

My baby is here, and real,
and so is my desire to be the best mommy.

Baby Lost...
...And Baby Reborn
 Jan 2017 Richard Riddle
v V v
'All swim' whistle,
water sent splashing,
the chaotic entrance of youth.

Adults scramble in the melee
while a man I do not know
bumps into me,
his hand down my shorts.
Confusion.

I ride home in shame.
Silent. Burning. Shame.

I am only 10
and tend to wince
at loud voices,
and right and wrong
depend upon the
time of day and
how many beers
my father drinks.

Country roads whip by,
sweet corn in the wind,
I watch the sun set
over the hill.

Once it's gone I know.

There will be no redemption,
 no reclaiming of innocence.

That shame feels like swallowing hot coals is all too familiar.

Mother says, “You don't look sick to me",

it's her answer for everything.
 Jan 2017 Richard Riddle
v V v
He enters the wood
without wanting,
taken from slumber
and pushed from behind
into darkness.

Up ahead he sees light,
he wants to believe
he always sees light,

but lately its not there
and he cannot see,
and they’re not at home.

He’s becoming afraid
to close his eyes,
no telling where he’ll end up,
skirting the edges of
the unknown.

He wonders what’s beyond,
a cliff, a hole, a vacuum,
insanity hovering over the
sprawling darkness of Hell.

He’s never been
though he thinks he can taste it,
it tastes of fear,
dark and gritty like burnt toast.

His only hope in
the little white diamonds.

When he swallows,
their edges work to scrape
the darkest burn away.
Mnemonic...

Over my mug of steaming coffee,
...i see cookies and a fruit...sliced,
to freshen my breath after my coffee break....

one glance...

one unexpected glance, took me back... to
when i decided to do something for myself,
to be happy.....and to be somebody....but,
finally....i fought the desire, to be defiant...
those awakenings, and newfound feelings,
still haunt my evenings...the hurting, somewhat
changed me, and my beliefs.......i realized that,

at some point in one's life, a chance moment
unfolds on a landing...clear to the eyes...on a mission,
to change attitudes...to erase wrong impressions,
triggered by unpleasant experiences....i have also
discovered....at the right time, somebody comes,
......like an angel with hidden wings...to soften
our hardened minds....to melt our frozen hearts,
ease our tensed opinions...offer us a healing balm.
sometimes, a place, or a face, becomes a kind of paper
that can't be crumpled, or destroyed...so hard to forget.
anyone...anything, that strikes the heart hard,
easily comes back, with the slightest reminder,
catches you..........unprepared....

this fruit on the table, in silence, it just sits there,
...unaware of its being mnemonic...doesn't matter,
if it's fresh, rotten, or candied...a plum, apple or pear
....................would prompt me, to remember,
over my mug of steaming coffee...


Sally


Copyright July 27, 2016
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
On days, when time is going too fast,
I can't catch up, and there're things i can't get past,
I'd pull a chair at the verandah....just sit there
To witness, the gentler goings on in life...
See, how...why  all plants face towards the sun,
On a dimly lit corner, watch a spider patiently spin its web,
Underneath the gravel and green grass, somehow,
The earthworm, painstakingly, bravely emerges,
Finds its way out of the soil...to remind us,
"...soil is healthy....it's time to plant!"
:::::
I feel, the beetle knows me, as it inches on,
Carrying its own body, crawling down the pine tree,
I won't ever grasp it, nor tie a string on its body
To control its range of movement,
As we do to tethered beasts of burden...
:::::
While sitting there, i decide: by all means,
Towards the flower ***, i  lean
Take time to smell a rose, feel its rough leaf
Not just a quick touch and sniff
But hold its thorny body, without daring to blink
While deep within, i'd let its fragrance sink
:::::
Some early evenings
When the cicadas' music are echoing
And the moths have started flying
Circling round the light at the ceiling,
I am warned...soon, it will be raining
And.....when it starts to rain, i keep listening
Til i'm soothed by the sound of rain...falling,
From sky to treetops.....flowing...landing
Next to the leaves......cascading down
To the concrete ground
Spreading quickly, far and deep...and as fate,
As nature would have it....the soil, without fail, waits...
:::::
Long time ago, we were small,
Curious and brave, we tasted glory, and all,
Armed with a child's innocence
And an insatiable hunger for learning...
Our eyes, our minds dilated,
Our brains were like sponge...
Like the soil.....we absorbed
All, that we discovered...
:::::

Sally

Copyright December 1, 2016
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
(Once in a while, we can be a child....right?)
will you watch the world             treading.



water floats my heart high, reflected red

below,                                              sky above.





will you hold me up when i am failing,  no

longer floating   .   will you play soft music

say



that we are in this together.meanwhile shall

we keep swimming



together?



sbm.
Salt rocks and lollipops
Gemstones and Zen
Spellbinding wizards
and dragons that eat men

Lightworkers and Indigos
Heart chakra crown
Don’t block kundalini
you’ll surely break down

With Ohm in the house
like it or not
Theta beats Beta
No judgement or thought

Malas and Mantras
to the Seat of the Soul
dissecting wavelengths
to uncover the whole

Ankhs and crosses
With fire and white light
Circle of crystals
bring spirit into sight

Mystics & healers
heed the cosmic call
extend love to our planet
to save us all
12/3/16
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