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Every death
I have felt, or known,
In silence, i mourn,
Within my breath...

No words come upfront
Just thoughts, preponderant...

I'd feel the freezing cold of an empty space
Feel the absence...clearly imagine a lost face
No smiles, spanning from cheek to cheek
Eyes, seek answers...
suddenly, I'm there by the shallow water of the creek
While some nearby creatures quietly chirp...and squeak
While I......... I could not even speak...

Living,
Is realizing...and accepting
At the right time, they turn brown, the weeds...and reeds,
But, under the water...waiting, growing...are their seeds
Brown ferns...are almost detached from a mossy concrete wall
With a strong current, and wind, they'd be carried...ready to fall

The driftwood lying by the shore...is always wet, but petrified
Brown fallen leaves, on the green grass...no more hold...crisp and dried,
The dead bark of a tree...in pieces...are crumbling...
Merging with the wet earth...in a process of fertilizing
Deep down under ....a fresh spark of life is starting.
All these, remind,
Life and death stand side by side,
That in the midst of death-
Something new is birthed...
When faced with death,
there is always someone's living breath
And, as long as the heart wills to beat
Then, life.....will still exist.

Hundreds, or a thousand times,  
We all have died
In the high and low of life's tides,
Physically,
Emotionally.

We remember
Those who have left
Those who have survived..are still around
We think of those who are next to leave,
Waiting for their chests' final heave

---And then, we think of ourselves---

Worry not of our own time
Make each of our remaining days
Be golden, beaming, and bright
With good deeds, and straight pathways

The earth is a moving circle
It makes a round.......as it spins
We try to live outwards....and then, within
Any way we live it...life is an endless cycle.


Sally



Copyright March 23, 2016
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
***A  HAPPY  EASTER TO EVERYONE!!! ***
One cat chirps;
one rumbles.
I am surrounded
with contentment.
For all the lofty words
of angels and bliss,
the aroma of your heat
and of singed wings
forms the halo, the beacon
calling forth the
demons
you seek to embrace
and purge.

Mine does not pull hair...
oh no.
Mine strokes to stoke
your flames;
forked tongue feathering down
between your
ivory pillars
thirsting for salted fluid
with a whiff of ocean.

You believe that because
I follow,
I am tame
and the baptism of
your holy water
extinguishes hell's fire.
The wolf, the bear
follow scents too,
in ancient
predatory
patience.
When the dragons are scraping at your door
The beasts of frustration and angry tears
I shall slay them with mighty truth

And in the night when they tap at your window
The dragons called Loneliness and Doubt
I shall wrap you in my warmth and love

I am your Dragonslayer, dear damsel
Awaiting your command

                                        By Phil Roberts
Some nights I sieve my
soul for a droplet of light
to know dark's not won.
She sat there alone and cold and naked
I picked her up
Put her in a jar
I really didint think
The little sun flower
Would make it
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