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At sixty plus
       a series of scenes from a life past
       started flashing back...i was swaying,
       like soft organza curtains, giving
in to the forces of the wind blowing,

recalling...things that used to be,
       places, faces i no longer see,
       people i haven't met and long to meet,
       words i meant to say....but didn't,
       things i failed to do, but still meaning
       to, given fresh starts...i got so weary
       from counting "should haves," so i'm saying,
etcetera, etcetera.....the list is unending.

at past seventy,
       sunrises are lovely as ever...and bolder,
       sunset moments are quieter...and holier,
       old days seem nearer,
       with poetry-writing, the call is stronger
       and i dabble still in beads-making,
       designs pour over me, when stringing
lapis lazuli, sodalite, pyrite and moonstones,

i am in a different zone.
       when mixing poetry and natural stones
       to me, a word is a crystal, a gemstone
it's merely a word to some...a stone unknown.

i late seventies,
       i'll still be in white shirts and blue jeans,
       creating unique, interesting themes for poetry,
       say, a big bus with travelers, seated hesitatingly,
       or, finding a bright tunnel's end, serendipitously,
       or, unrepenting souls sinking deeper, regretfully,
more silly love poems?  i'd indulge willingly

my frame may turn fragile...i pray, not my poetry,
       not my judgment, nor my decision-making,
not my courage, especially, when i'm past eighty.

sally b

©Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
June 18, 2021
May 21 · 64
This Mad, Mad World
Sally A Bayan May 21
Here in our imperfect world
our lives are influenced by the wind
and the rain, the sun and the moon,
the stars, and thunderous skies.

we live...we love, we get to taste
bitter and sweet, brought upon us
by people dear to us...we opt to
endure a bittersweet life...and love.

inside a room...various thoughts
of a person, or two...occupy and
float in its limited atmosphere,
there're no words...just lumps in
the a deafening silence
enfolds the room.

that life and love are never fair,
is widely accepted...that both are
painfully beautiful, is a known reality,

"tis better to have loved and lost,
than never to have loved at all," these
are old words...that still reverberate.
to be hurt, to be sad, are much better,
than losing a loved part with
one's beloved is "such sweet sorrow,"
yet, we live through the pain.
what could be more exciting than
a sweet reuniting?

we choose to live, and to love.
and so to heartbreaks...we succumb.
for, amidst the madness,
we find beauty....we find wisdom.

despite its ugly sides and borderlines
we can't just let go of this mad, mad
world...without losing our only world.
no matter how imperfect it is,  
or how injured it has become,
it's still worth saving...worth praising.
(Friday morning reflections)

sally b

©Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
   May 21, 2021
(Our world is a huge field planted with conjoined contradictions.)
May 8 · 402


Her heartbeats are imperturbable,
ready to face any day
blue skies, or gray,
with, or,
without uncertainties.
no words said, just thoughts progress
in the silence of after midnight hours,
her eyes and mind go far, beyond the
dark horizon, she's a bird flying early
morning...soars over shadowed trees
and mountains...well before light,
she perches on the window sills of
her real world.

in the kitchen, she fries sausages and
potatoes...her mind travels with the
rising steam of coffee brewing,
tiptoe-ing on sad waters,
then basks in unforgettable moments past,
as voices from far away lands,
and even those
who are long gone
still echo
and dwell within her.

she faces life's adversities with true grit,
is toughened by pain, by loss...and by
grief, that sometimes...refuses to die.

her happiness springs from shallow waters.
she regrets not, about her goals foregone,
content, that, once in her life, she had her
dreams...and wished upon many stars.

eyes and heart often wander upon hills
and valleys, she fondly calls "home,"
sun-wrapped at day, shadowed at night,
it is where her soul.....freely roams.

she is wife, mother, grandmother, sister,
a friend, a caregiver, a voice...a pursuer of
truths...all she needs to be...for the sake
of her loved ones.....she is WOMAN.


sally b

©Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
   May 8, 2021
Apr 28 · 52
Shadowed Man
Sally A Bayan Apr 28
:::::::::::::: 🎼 🎷🎷🎷🎼 :::::::::::::

Late hours of a Saturday night...the
shadowed man toyed with his sax,
and played a beautiful excerpt from,
soon, it skillfully...beautifully
segued to its main piece,
"It Was Almost Like A Song."

the space was scarcely lighted,
there were whispers, yet, all listened.
eyes were glued to the darkened face
of the shadowed man.
they hummed,
as they held their glasses of wine.
some softly sang the lyrics.

the pieces he played were journeys
he made each night,
with his audience...he took them
cruising along a boulevard,
drenched with the blues.
there was that
unfathomable sadness in his eyes,
that spoke of a brokenness,
louder...than words.

there in the dark, as he played his sad
songs, a face always accompanied him,
a face he longed to see...someone,
somewhere in a cold place...who had
so much love and warmth in her heart.

while he finds comfort in the shadows,
he often wonders,
"until when will i be playing this song ?
until when, will i be,
in the shadows?"
:::::::::::­­::: 🎼 🎷🎷🎷🎼 :::::::::::::

sally b

© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
April 28, 2021
#sax #silhouettes #almostlikeasong #shadowedman
Apr 19 · 216
Tea and Coffee
Sally A Bayan Apr 19

I wonder still, if you'd enjoy milked tea,
well, i'd let you....while i sip my coffee
let's gaze eye to eye and let things be.

spaces and times are not always comfy.
let's maximize, talk as we walk leisurely,
in spacious perimeters of the mind...saying
"us," and "we," first times, unconsciously,
a sight to behold, we surely could be
let's allow our feelings to unfold, shall we?

maybe, as we dine,
maybe, over wine.

by a shady banyan tree, we could stroll,
or bury our feet in the cool sandy shore
eyes and hearts are nourished lavishly
our souls, enriched generously,
as we devour the sky's infinity

we go back, refill our cups...would yours be tea
again? mine, this time, would be rummed coffee.

I soar, when our thoughts travel synchronously
sometimes, though, we're like a broken poetry

some parts of life simply cannot be changed
and i, definitely, refuse to break a chain.

and i start asking questions unceasingly,
which later, turn to crumpled poetry...
::::::::(another silly love poem)

sally b

Copyright Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
April 20, 2021
Apr 11 · 76
Sally A Bayan Apr 11

Lighted candles were placed
on top of empty church pews.
in the absence of churchgoers,
tiny flames flickered on,
to mourn for the dead,
to bring hope back to life,
and to lift to God all pleas,
floating in the atmosphere.

⚡️⚡️⚡️ ⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️

some flames burned still, some were
fervent...a mix of exasperation and
anger were silenced, as God's mercy
and intervention were sought,
⚡️⚡️⚡️ ⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️
to shut down infection,
to accelerate vaccination
to stop the race between
the two.....but, we cannot,
it's a sad reality, we don't
have what it takes...we don't
have that kind of power.
⚡️⚡️⚡️ ⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️
there're those who sincerely care,
and some....really don't care.

⚡️⚡️⚡️ ⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️

Today, Sunday, in most churches,
the pews will be empty....again.
⚡️⚡️⚡️ ⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️

sally b

© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
    April 11, 2021
Mar 29 · 97
Sally A Bayan Mar 29

When days are painted with melancholy,
i go back to those late stargazing nights
when our humble bed burst with
toothpaste and ***-scented whispers,
our eyes, focused if we could
see the big and small dipper through our
bedroom if we could see
stars falling...and the ceiling was our sky
some nights, we talked about
growing old...afternoon strolls,
and "six feet under" issues, but
never...never the death of love
(who knew that it could die?)
we were two souls fired by goals,
we were two torches defying winds,
even when fate's gusty winds,
blew against our sails...even when
rain doused the fire in our sky
we were both from
alcohol...i, from hushed brokenness.
many summers and monsoon seasons
sobered us up...until one day came
subtle fires of new dawns
we stared long at each other
with a shared reluctance,
thinking of
times to come,
with and without each other
the sunset sky is now layered with
bronze and orange fires, just like
my own embers, still fighting, still red
with flames that dance with a breeze.

sally b

Copyright Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
April 2, 2020
Feb 24 · 79
French Windows
Sally A Bayan Feb 24
(one Tuesday morning)

Small circles of steam rise
from seething ground shiny beans
soaring just within
touching the glass surfaces
of the french windows,

celebrating mid morning blessings
sun is bright yellow, kindly shining,
simultaneously, it showers
hydrangeas, purplish wood sorrels
snake plants, lilies...and my soul.

there's laughing and hurrying to gather
near-dry clothes from the clothesline,
the rush adds fun to the day's delight,
forgetting for a while life's sad plights.

sun and rain, together,
influence my day, my life, my future
there's a small voice i always endure
i listen, though, with some pressure
to possible changes in my future

i ponder, but my eyes are captured
they stray further, as two yellow birds
perch and search for food
upon the sturdy pine tree.

eyes blink on, trying to recapture
earlier thoughts...i see, there are

no more circles of steam
to reflect on....they
have now vanished,
found their way
of the

sally b
© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
February 24, 2021
Feb 14 · 103
Sally A Bayan Feb 14
(10w x 4)

<3  <3  <3

Why do lovers
find coherence
in whispered
silly sweet nothings,

even just
the warm breath
of the one
who whispers,

every "ha?" and "hmm?
means the universe
to both...

there is more than
when gazes meet
and lock...
(who needs words?)

sally b

© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
  February 14, 2021
Happy Valentine's Day to all, esp. the lovebirds!
Feb 8 · 46

Odds, or two in ten,
the easy feel of a Sunday morning
can be ruined...a wrong move, or,
a wrong word, hits a raw nerve, and
wakens dormant embers of anger.

It makes one sweat even in January,
when it's usually cold and breezy.

Cooler minds patiently try to
neutralize tension-filled moments,
they soften rigid tempers, painting
light blue over's like defusing
a bomb that would explode soon,
it's like treading, tiptoeing on thin ice,
it's a sink-or-swim thing...

Blowing off hot steam takes's
hard to keep warm spaces in between,
when frozen, stinging air from the
past...lingers still

How exhausting! but it can be most rewarding,
when cold winds take over, to heal angered,
hardened hearts...when the warmth of
peace steadily creeps, and conquers all.
"Pass the pastis, please," i spoke
to myself, as i raised both legs on my bed,
so relieved, a storm had passed.
it was good to be in my room,

sally b

© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
February 8, 2021
Jan 15 · 562
[[[Caged Shadows]]]
Sally A Bayan Jan 15
The house was simple...and small,
yet, sturdy were its base and walls,
it became the family's safest place...
its protective walls, were hushed
witnesses to the family's moments,
invisibly etched on their cold surfaces,
their silence was most comforting.

and then, came the waters...

the heart broke, wet with crystal tears,
people came....and people went
monsoon floods inundated the house,
a kind of centrifugal force drove peace
and happy winds astray...far, far away,
precious souvenirs became trash...

rain or shine made no difference,
nights became longer...i realized some
truths that played on and on in my mind:

"there's a time to be born, and a time to die,
a time to linger.....and a time to move on.

suddenly...changes happened...

after family, pets and all stuff were moved,
the old house seemed a wide gawking space...
on its glum doorway, echoed, a sad refrain:
..."Sally doesn't live here anyyyy...more."...

i turned the lights off, closed the windows
and locked the doors.....outside the gate,
a thought clawed on my chest:
it felt, i had caged inside
shadows...of a past life...

sally b

© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
March 25, 2019
(twenty-two years ago)
Jan 5 · 268
Fire Burns Slow...

In the silence of cold, quiet,
after midnight hours...wind
audibly pushes branches and
leaves...sends them swaying
and rustling....i hear the rain small nails hitting
the neighbor's acrylic eave.

the peace of these unholy hours
empowers me...i feel, i rule the world,
my senses and my mind are sharpest..
while others are asleep and dreaming.

everyone's eyes are closed...mine, too,
yet, i am so awake, i see this cauldron,
where my life's goings-on are stirred by
an unknown force, spinning clockwise,
simmering, nothing burns, or breaks,
for, underneath, its fire burns slow...

good and bad issues mix and join
the stew of old stubborn ones;
daily rigors, wee triumphs blend in,
like a goulash of meat and veggies,
slowly cooking, as fire burns slow,
giving time...............taking time
the strong aroma of arabica jolts me
from my matters not if i
haven't slept......6 am, i'm back to
reality.....lots of work await me
five-pm past, arabica again stands by
me as i watch the orange fires of sunset,
hear the crickets sing, or a frog's croak,
while my rocking thoughts are cradled,
while i enjoy some peace and quiet,
exuded by a fragrant's
that feel-good part of each day...saying
gratitude for every sunrise and sunset,
while my candle's fire burns slow....


©Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
  January 6, 2021
*fragrant twilight* - I have a tree and a plant that
  bear flowers, boldly fragrant during the night...
Dec 2020 · 64
Lanterns and Lights
Sally A Bayan Dec 2020
Rows of multi-colored lanterns
and lights brighten the streets,
while frosted and glittered *****,
silver bells, stars and trimmings
on Christmas trees, paint our
gloomy perspectives with hopeful
greens, reds, blues, and golds...

life is never fair in the midst of all
these crises, we may have been
disheartened...yet, here we are,
trying to survive, finding wisdom
in sufferings...we manage to start
over, and prepare for the coming
celebration...even silent corners
in our houses and gardens, now
speak of festive thoughts...despite
difficulties, we find time to rejoice.

we prop ourselves physically, and
spiritually...eyes, heart and soul
are filled with joyful anticipation,
traditions bring cheer here and there.

a wooden diorama of the Nativity
reminds me that, all these lanterns
and lights...all these preparations,
lead us to but one the manger,
where lies....the Baby Christ Jesus,
the reason for this holiday season...




© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
December 23, 2020

#joyfulanticipation #nativity #reasonfortheseason #lanternsandlights
(My love and warmest hugs to everyone...if only I could see you all.)
Dec 2020 · 511
Sally A Bayan Dec 2020

Eyes get weary and blurry
turning dry, sometimes teary.

fleeting specks would appear
on the ipad or desktop,
finger tip wipes them off
the screen, but, just cannot
they slide...glide...and hide,
daring spectacle-free eyes.

it's fun to indulge sometimes
when they go up, down...left to
right...but, when it's time to stop
when you feel you've had enough,
how fast they vanish,
soon as knuckles rub the eyes.


Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
December 20, 2020
(we tend to be very observant, before and after procedures.)
Dec 2020 · 336
Sally A Bayan Dec 2020
(A series of couplets, from 2014...edited)

Though I AM fast like an arrow,
i hear, even your silent bellows,

for, I AM the COLORED ARC above your cloud
when heavy rains are no longer around.

I AM THE LIGHT...i melt and clear the gloom,
when gray days seem to be spreading doom.

I AM your  ARMOUR, your SHIELD,
when you're without strength, and stilled,

when you feel weak...when moments are bleak,
i prop you up...and when you're unable to speak,

I AM your VOICE, your WORDS, your ECHO
your guide flying by...I AM your SPARROW.

I AM the reason you are calm and mellow
I AM with you, in waters deep and shallow

I AM both your RAINBOW
.......and your SHADOW

I   AM    A L L
That can make you WHOLE.  

I am with you, here, there, everywhere
all times...and that means, FOREVER.


©Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
   (from June 13, 2014)
December 9, 2020
(an old poem, posted June 2014...edited)
Dec 2020 · 178
Sally A Bayan Dec 2020
(Reflections after Thanksgiving)

All the things that happened
in the past, and the ones that
are about to happen,
all flowed out/all will flow
out of life's huge cornucopia:
good and bad harvests in food,
health, career, even relationships;
could be bitter, too little, too much
of sour, salt, spices, and of sugar

We make choices from what flows  
out...some are promising, others turn
disastrous...some are happy with
just enough...there are those who
opt for a spill over their rims, and
get inebriated......or overdosed.

We've lived through poverty, wealth,
trials and tribulations, triumphs,
failures, birth and death, as well.

They say, a blending of spices, of
bad and good...of black and white,
of positive and negative energy,
brings out a certain balance...
angels, demons in human clothes
trying to claim each other...trying
to claim the populace....diseases
plague us...distorted minds distort
the true essence of democracy,

we end up conquered...or conqueror;
we may mellow down, or get worse.

Such a diverse horn of plenty!

Yet, we got free will and discernment,
so we may not be duped by lies
wrapped in bright white satin,
it's really up to us.

Also, it won't hurt to be grateful
more often...not only in November...


©Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
  December 1, 2020
Nov 2020 · 308
Sally A Bayan Nov 2020
)/. ||..\/..||../(/

Lilies and selloum,
anthuriums, snake plants
and wood sorrels,
pink bougainvilleas and crotons
greet me every morning,
they keep green poetry alive and
in motion, as sighs of joy awaken
and nourish the brightly verdant.

i walk the few steps to the small
front garden...every breath taken
reminds me of
precious oxygen they give,
we breath out carbon dioxide,
they gladly accept...

i keep wondering,
"where, when, and how
did these mutualistic symbiotic
relationships come about?"
we would not...cannot survive
without them.

someone's, or something's refuse,
could be another's lifeline, or treasure,
no one...nothing...stays an island...


Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
November 23, 2020
Nov 2020 · 553
We Humans
Sally A Bayan Nov 2020
Much  have been ruined, but, people know
what once existed in spaces where now stand
modern structures...mountains are crumbling,
not much trees left...soil, rocks are eroding,
the calming sound of gushing water is missed

since the beginning of life,
it has been our provider, our source
of food, shelter and protection. is the one that needs
protection from us, humans.....we
have turned inimical...deliberately,
ignoring its cries for help, because
of self-serving interests...we've exploited,
we've abused mother nature, and those
creatures living in its midst.

we humans are part of nature,
we dwell...we rely on it,
we survive in its realm.....yet,
we continuously violate this
human-nature relationship.

even before the laws,
an implied agreement,
a known understanding
existed...weren't we, humans,
taught not to hurt, or abuse
any thing?.....or any one?
weren't we taught to respect
all kinds of life on earth?

it's a pain in the heart, to watch
hurricanes wreaking havoc on lives
and sources of livelihood, anywhere
in the world...especially when they
happen....right before your eyes.


© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
November 15, 2020
Nov 2020 · 759
Land in Sepia
Sally A Bayan Nov 2020
Overfilled dams released
khaki-brown rainwaters, while
slate gray stormy winds brought
down houses and lamp posts,
helpless trees were uprooted,
branches, sliced off their trunks
greens became hues of dark olive-brown.
red roofs floated, fire came in their midst

rain wasn't crystal clear as it used to be
death's color became faded elephant gray
lives were snatched as hands held tight,
emotions died in those brown flood waters

2020 painted my country's canvas
with the gloomiest shades of sepia

my people rise from inundation,
gray lava and tremors,
while they breathe,
they live on,
as before.


Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
November 6, 2020
(January 2020 started with Covid 19, Taal Volcano eruption, earthquakes, a series of typhoons, etc. etc.)
Oct 2020 · 113
Peanuts, Popcorn and M&Ms.
Sally A Bayan Oct 2020

At different times and places,
all kinds of fear enfold me.
...when they wear me out,
i claim the amazing night sky
with my dilated eyes,
i imagine gobbling a few
stars, like the way i munch
popcorn, peanuts and M&Ms
when i'm scared or worried...
sounds silly, but it's just me, taking
things lightly...enjoying
peanuts, popcorn, or M&Ms,
relaxing, while trying to be safe,
not beaten....or eaten,
by life's threatening adventures
with covid 19 and hurricanes, or,
i could be swooped and snatched
by agents Scully's and Mulder's
uncaptured aliens, who may be
lurking behind me, when i'm
deep in my fears, and
i've run out of
peanuts, popcorn and M&Ms.
:::::::::who knows?::::::::::

© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
October 31, 2020
(an afternoon spent thinking of
apple pie, while anticipating the
landfall of a super typhoon.)
Oct 2020 · 385
The Sky And Me
Sally A Bayan Oct 2020
Any time of day,
the breathtaking colors
of the sky make me sigh,
however ecstatic, or unpleasant
life may be...whatever goes on down
here, she is up there...ever-present,
like a parent...i may be infinitesimal,
yet, i'm never lost in her
immeasurable span of attention.

the sky is a part of me,
and i, of her,
her colors affect my daily decisions,
gray with rains tell me to change plans,
on sunny days, chores are smooth-sailing.
at night, its dome of dark blue, graced
by the moon and stars in many shapes,
makes me recall some immortal tales.

i squint, looking at her vast spaces
as if i'm roaming upon a sunny meadow,
as i go back to my days of triumphs,
my failures...especially
my best moments.

i was born under this glorious firmament,  
she saw my first steps,
and all the firsts in my life,
she'll be watching, until her clouds
start bringing rain upon
my withered ground.


© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
September 2019
(Posted October 26, 2020)
Oct 2020 · 408
Butterflies and Grasshopper
Sally A Bayan Oct 2020
^ ^ ^

I meant to write about two
black and white butterflies,
resting upon the thick leaves
of my Norfolk island pine tree,
i planned to write about
a grasshopper, camouflaged by
the green grass on the front yard,
i almost crashed its body, if it hadn't
leapt before i stepped on it...
i was thinking of turning on the
christmas lights this monsoon season,
for an early holiday start.

i focus on happy scenes,
on good times past...because,
i miss those times, and
i long for them to come back...

there are some things i couldn't fix,
which i think, gave birth to this
pain inside my tummy.
to not know what happens next,
scares me so.

and so, i keep write of
butterflies and grasshoppers,
i might just hang a lantern,


Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
October 12, 2020
Sally A Bayan Oct 2020

In the midst of the anxiety and fear
surrounding us....despite a series of
crises that continue to affect/infect
our livelihood, our relationships,
our long time plans....and which
have practically disrupted our
normal lives....not many will agree,
that, gratitude should still be flowing,
out of our weary minds and hearts...

Hollow days, holy days, holidays and
birthdays come and go
...those who were born a few months back,
...or, a few weeks ago.....
...those who were born yesterday, and
...those who were born today...
...those whose birthdays will fall tomorrow
...and/ the coming days,
...there is much, much to be thankful for,
...for, in these days of tribulations
we have learned so many truths about life-
about our family and friends
about our government officials
about far we can go,
or, how much we can we are
during  normal and not so normal times
let us be thankful...true colors have surfaced...
we now know better...

to all of us, regardless of
the dates of our birth...
what matters most is that,
despite all bad...there is good,
and if we still live,
we shall survive...


Copyright Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
October 1, 2020
Sep 2020 · 411
Second Half
Sally A Bayan Sep 2020

July was a sweet surprise...half way into August, and the
next fifteen days...proved to be a ghost month....its days,
painted with somber colors, and difficult times, the hours
moved slowest, the sun hesitated to shine this September.
October is uncertain.....definitely, apple pie and cinnamon
scented winds will blow.....November's cheers shall segue
into the last thirty one days of the year....December is the
busiest month, a perfect time to put on hold, sadness and
pain...a frail, fragile joy, dormant as a Rose bush in winter,
shall rest, to breathe again, to bloom again in early Spring.


Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
September 19, 2020
Sep 2020 · 301
Live Their Dreams
Sally A Bayan Sep 2020

*   🌑

Late afternoon sky is a burning
orange...quickly changing
into a dark evening,
a new moon starts peeping...

they have laboured hard, as any day,
work ends not, while there's light,
every sunset, the night drapes them
with cold, comforting shadows,
they claim the night, for themselves,
no masters to order them around,
just them and the fleeing night,
for days seem prolonged, and
nights have become shorter

they beg the sky, and persist,
"please, let the dark stay longer,
why not let the dawn be deferred?
give us space, from each cruel day,
in the dark of night,
let us live our dreams..."

tell them, moon,
whisper to their ears, gentle wind,
whence do they moor their weary souls?
lighten the burdens of their aching lives
give rest to their fatigued brain,
heal their pained arms and feet,

o gentle wind, whisper to their ears,
in your silent ways, lead them, moon,
to a place where freedom reigns
and offers restful slumber....for,

only in the dark of night,
can they live their dreams...


© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
September 20, 2020
(inspired by Claude Mckay's "The Tired Worker"
Sep 2020 · 125
Sally A Bayan Sep 2020

It is most endearing,
and heart-warming,
it pleasantly stuns the heart
to know how loved ones,
friends, show they care,
by bridging the gap,
spanning lands, oceans
that separate....finding
ways to defy distance,
to make you smile during
rough times......through
sincere and thoughtful

"You are always in the
    forefront of my mind."

suddenly,  joy enfolds,
and overwhelms.....and
then comes a most elated,
...but shy  whisper:

"i know, i know......because,
you always...and in all ways
............dwell in mine..." a bunch of
white and bright yellow mums,
it heals and soothes the soul...



Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
September 13, 2020
Sep 2020 · 786
A Blowing Breeze
Sally A Bayan Sep 2020

It comes anytime,
like a blowing breeze,
tenderly caressing,
it creeps in, and
softens the toughened,
this breeze of fragility
makes ****** tissues

some days,
a playful little girl
steers a paper boat
on a big basin of water,

plays with dogs...watching
spiders weaving webs, perching
birds and butterflies, pretending
they are dwarf friends...while
munching a red, crisp apple, like
snow white.....playful, sleepy,

on an undaunted mood,
wonder woman determinedly
crosses her gauntlet-wrapped protect loved ones
and in so doing, makes possible
the impossible,
come hell or high water

some days, a blend of all three
occurs, but, the child and the brave,
try to rule over the,
every an adventure...


©Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
August 26, 2020
Aug 2020 · 71
Sally A Bayan Aug 2020

<~> <~> <~>

I feel, it's taking longer
before the monthly
of the calendar

close to one hundred
and fifty days now,
...and counting on,
trying to foreknow;
September is about
to come in.....and
i still hear
anticipated mass
via live streaming;

we worship, we trust,
we pray for our family
for the whole world,
it is just normal, that
we worry, we envision,  
and with a strong faith,
we get ready, for
whatever fate
befalls a nation individuals...

within restrictive spaces
all we can do is pray,
do some wishful thinking
and yes....anticipate...


© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
August 29, 2020


© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
August 29, 2020
Aug 2020 · 172
A Republic of Letters
Sally A Bayan Aug 2020

People become
in diff'rent ways,
lucky ones
free themselves,

exhaling lumps
from their throats,
getting out
of their prisons

sharing their
life experiences
via prose and poetry,

diverse poets,
gathered in one

Hello Poetry,
a Home
to a huge
republic of letters...



© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Aug 2020 · 133
Rainy Evenings
Sally A Bayan Aug 2020

When alone
on rainy evenings,
mirrors surround me

it's when i see, i acknowledge
the colors of my person...the
black, white, the streaks of red,
blue, green and purple in me;
my indecision, my weaknesses,
my temper, my moods;
lamp-lit nights magnify my truths...

mirrors don't their silence,
they speak in volumes, flashing
scenes, of what could have been,
had i been stubborn...and persisted
on some choices and decisions then...

they remind me of stories behind
my wrinkles, scars, and gray hair...
they stay with me, when i feel, i am
levitating between sky and earth,
when overlapping doubts assail me--

did i take the right path?  
am i where i should be?

will i still be treading other paths?
or will i just deep-fry in this boiling,
restrictive atmosphere? i close
to that impending tunnel? or, will it
be a hot, muddy marsh for me?

on rainy evenings,
my thoughts start from puddles,
slowly turning to rivers that keep
me awake 'til early hours of dawn...

©Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
August 18, 2020
Aug 2020 · 127
Surviving the Pandemic
Sally A Bayan Aug 2020
I should be tired by now,
monsoon season is here, and
we are swimming as far
and as fast as we could,
away from the murky waters
of this pandemic...
it is hard enough
to ensure the safety
of the
protect them,
we are okay, but,
it is heartbreaking
to see other people are not,
they're suffering...i do my best
to help, yet, unable to
help the way i want to,
because..........i can't,

this is not just
about is
also a human, economic
and social crisis...
economy is at its worst,
no signs of business activities
unemployment continues to rise
people are hungry...without shelter;
people are broken.....financially,
and otherwise

what's worse,
there are those who
use these difficult times
to instill confusion and fear,
people who deprive
the most vulnerable ones,
of much needed assistance.

clearly, hard times
bring out the worst
and the best in people
and situations...

we are going lower
than where we used
to be.....if we do sink,
how do we survive?


Copyright Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
August 12, 2020
Aug 2020 · 156
Sally A Bayan Aug 2020
(me and my shadow)

<o>  <o>

The evening air was cool
that rainless night in June
on the street, i looked around
my backward steps were measured
i needed a right spot,
i needed a good shot
for, up there, a creamy full moon
hung above the neighbor's roof...

the pavement was moonglowed
whence stood me and my shadow,
no noise, not even a soft wind's blow
as if God had stilled the world,
a finger on His lips, to stop all sounds
and call my attention, waken my perception...

then, i heard a hurried crash in the dark,
i thought, perhaps, a bat made its mark
in my mind, and up my spine, fear sparked
a cold wind swayed the branches
followed by thumps on the ground, a crunch
of footsteps, confirmed all my hunches,

God, both my feet refused to cooperate,
'til i felt something in my pocket vibrate

thank God for my phone, it shook my limbs,
until.....fear no longer kept my mind dim

i whisked...away from the pavement,
enough of these moonglowed moments!


Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
July 30, 2019
(Friday thoughts)
Jul 2020 · 782
Sally A Bayan Jul 2020

On this gift of space,
we maintain a garden
where grows many kinds of seeds,
some flourish...some die...some
are stunted...they just don't grow,

we do what we do best
in this garden
we try to be better,
even when on a standstill,
or when snugs pop up
and distract
we stray from focus...but,
try to get back on track
and along the way, we inspire,
and enhance others, too,

we're on the clouds when fruits
of our labor are appreciated
for, high up there is a temple
most of us aim to reach
to experience some glory
to taste sweet water
from the fountain of fame,

but, its flow...dries bit by bit,
winds of change blow, to remind,
there are others, too, in the line,
waiting for their share of drink,
we move over...we give way...
but, we don't stop planting
we just lie low, at times, disappear,
then start down there........again,
like a newcomer........persevering,
aiming for the temple.......again,
not as eager as the first time,
but, just savouring
the blissful feeling,
when it comes...

©Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
July 11, 2020
(Already seven years last March,
  and still moving about, in this
  garden called Hello Poetry...where
  various kinds of poetry are posted,
  and the best poets, who're friends, too,  
have come and gone...come back, then
go again...there are those that are still here i love and miss them all...)
Jul 2020 · 823
Sally A Bayan Jul 2020

Afternoon and evening rains are signs
our monsoon season is nigh
yet, some wells stay in drought...isolation
can't just clear waters of stagnant emotions

i need water flowing like blood through the veins
water creating brooks below green mountains
been trying to make this water flow, but in vain

when poetry hides, days become a drag
it's like walking without protective clogs
while crossing hanging circles of fog
descending......from towering crags...


©Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
July 4, 2020
Jun 2020 · 142
Sally A Bayan Jun 2020
(my world)

Azure sky domes over clouds of cotton white,
freshly washed clothes on the clothesline,
sway freely to summer winds...sun is bright,
so hurts my eyes.

through a rumble of overgrown bushes, i enter,
my hair, nose, fingers, elbows get tangled
in spiders' webs...i step back, leave their corner
freedom is well-guarded...fortified is their world.

in a nearby school, the flag waves with dignity
national anthem plays...its lyrics vow loudly
to preserve precious freedom...faithfully.
school scenes slow me down...but, i hurry

now, home to my own freedom, my world,
my world...a safe bubble, like...a microcosm,
a microcosm long existing...a secret world,
a secret world i frequent when i need to,
when i need to be...alone, creating poetry,
...creating poetry on life's nitty-gritty
...and trivialities...

inside my world, muse eases the tossing,
turning mind...helps shape scenes to a tee,
lets me go rhyming.....or free versing
in couplets, sonnets, a dirge, or a ditty...


© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
June 11, 2020
(I wrote of freedom, because tomorrow, June 12, we celebrate Independence Day in  the Philippines.)
May 2020 · 121
The New Normal
Sally A Bayan May 2020
Within the confines
of areas quarantined
people hold discussions,
hued with apprehension

about new songs,
play in the air
they're actually old songs
given new lyrics  
same life..reorganized
new ways...introduced,
to be etched
into our minds,
our systems
for how long?
it isn't yet, known...

stubborn minds say
unbelievable! yet,
we will soon be
new themes, new
styles, new clothes
different styles...

topics on chats
in peoples' minds
they have been pulsed
and repulsed
will they soon be enforced???
true???...or false?

to flow, or not to flow
with the new waters
poured into our pools?

the choice is obvious

some old habits
have to die

if this "The New Normal"
could ensure our safety
and lengthen our lives,
.............why not?


©Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
May 31, 2020
May 2020 · 162
Breaking Silence
Sally A Bayan May 2020
(morning twilight)

\0/    \0/    

In the drowsy stillness of
morning twilight.....when
feet are still huddled beneath
a light cotton sheet...the urge
to get up is not too strong
the bed, a hammock of quietude,
is comfortably warm with body heat.
this is the moment....fresh sounds
fresh air, fresh ideas, renewed hope,
all come in...all flow cool and smooth,
joining this civil dawn's atmosphere
i emerge from a peaceful inertia
from this stream of calming thoughts,
rising..........breaking silence........... be at the usual
fried hungarian sausages for breakfast?
...grilled bass and eggplants for lunch?
fried chicken, fried fishcakes for dinner?
with sliced tomatoes and cucumbers?
is there enough bread, rice, water,
meat, fish to last for the week?
in this lengthening pandemic?
coffee mug is still half-filled....slices
of fried plantain stare back, begging
to be eaten, as chicken, veggies, fish
recipes razzle-dazzle in my mind
a normal moment in my mornings
oh pouring more coffee
que sera, sera


©Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
May 24, 2020
4:34 AM
(Just woke up...and wrote this)
May 2020 · 713
Better Days
Sally A Bayan May 2020
Orange and pink hues of sunset
are nowhere...rain pours
trees are talking, leaves are fighting
the violent wind...the shutting of doors
and windows startle...and disturb

no more candle lights on the altar...prayers
have been said, tinged with whispers and
hushed giggles...the tingling of china and
silverware float in the air...the radio is off,
no more worrisome news.....what's left is,

a soothing feeling....the cool wind
makes the curtains dance...a sweet
silence breathes outside my room...both feet are
flexing...relaxing on the bed....waiting for end another virus-stamped day,
the rainy dark comes with a sacred stillness,
we're not over the woods, yet...but, it would be
nice to hear about less, and more:  a decline
in cases, a flat curve...a rise in recoveries...a cure,
a vaccine would disable the claws of the
evil virus......meanwhile, we keep the faith,  
as we wait...and look forward
to........better days...
tomorrow is another day.


Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
May 15, 2020
May 2020 · 1.1k
Sally A Bayan May 2020
Memories of this lady never leave my mind.
she wasn't a rider, but acted better than one,
riding high above many hurdles in life...fear
never took her away from her responsibilities...

when the fuse in the main switch gave
way, and dimmed the old house, this lady
braved the dark...armed with a flashlight
and pliers, she replaced the burnt fuse with
a new one and brought light back.....each
time the old-fashioned flat iron overheated,
she easily replaced the glass-like insulator  
inside, so it could right away be used again...

whatever needed repair---garment, tools,
the fence, the house...ripped, or with holes,
she mended and patched...even blind-hemmed
a torn relationship once...yes, she mended
cracks...was always in the midst of broken
vases, gluing pieces back together, so she
may put water and lovely flowers in it...

nothing was impossible for this gentle lady...
she moved mountains for her loved ones,
always persevering and ingenious, life
became less difficult...she painted their
young minds with a mix of hues,
so they may appreciate and be
grateful for rainbows and yellow sunrises,
learn to accept black, gray, unhappy moments,
and be thrilled by fiery orange sunsets....

this lady is indispensable...and irreplaceable,
SHE, and others like her, are called mama,
muter, mom, mum, majka, inay/nanay, mae,
matka, madre, mom....ahh, the list is long...


Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
May, 8, 2020
(SHE... was our late mama.)

Apr 2020 · 255
Cabin Fever
Sally A Bayan Apr 2020
/\  /\  /\  /\  /\

There's a need for more space,
i feel a lack of fresh air...mostly
carbon dioxide permeates the
inner atmosphere...

grown faces, bodies, voices,
are seen in most corners of the
house, mingling with older ones,
trying to get by, in their own way...

there must be space for house help
sleeping over...i am human, a mix of
selfish, conscientious and unkind,
but it matters that tonight, all are safe,
what's good for the lot......prevails

when the death of each ECQ day is at hand,
when i'm satisfied that all are okay and safe,
i go to my room and concede to its persistent free some of my cramped thoughts...
i sit by the window with a lamp's glow, i part
the drapes...and let cool night air envelope me,
i take my time, drifting on blue waters of serenity
as daytime's cabin fever vanishes....temporarily...


©Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
April 29, 2020
(ECQ- Enhanced Community Quarantine)
Apr 2020 · 157
The Lighter Side of The Day
Sally A Bayan Apr 2020
: (   : (  ---  : )   : )

Eyes have opened
i am wakened

now longing for steaming coffee
to shrug off lethargy, and anxiety,

shortly, the severity of today's statistics
will do we fight inner hysterics?

we watch, side by side, real and fake news,
we've plunged deeper, there's more to lose,

we miss fresh air, our jobs, our daily income,
in desperation, we ask, "where art thou, freedom?"

while medical and non-medical front-liners,
tackle and battle another corona-ed 24 hours...

morning birds' tweets, the crowing of rooster
blend with the riotous hum of the old washer

eight dogs chase a stray is ahead,
while still biting a piece of tasty 😋 bread...

i hear somebody sweeping...clearing
the backyard from the dogs' doings

my morning
  is ongoing 😷


©Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
  April 22, 2020--5:30 am
Apr 2020 · 845
White Shadows
Sally A Bayan Apr 2020
ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭ ̀ˋ

Bull frogs have no voice this rainless night,
crickets are done with their song...
no contentment reigns in this warm silence
where human fears reverberate, in the
still of this crazy summer month...

t's a foggy scenario, for these health workers,
they're white shadows
witnessing silent struggles inside hospitals,
outside houses, amidst crowds...even in places
frequented by homeless people...

white shadows know despair felt by the
sick, separated from families and friends,
white shadows know when anxiety and fright
settle in the air...they feel when death is nigh...
they conceal their worries, their fears,
well behind their masks......yet, no one is
invincible...........white shadows die, too.

i strain my eyes...something flickers
in this dark, navy night...

"Come, fireflies...
be with us, though briefly, in this
moment of uncertainty......tonight,
i see your shy, quivering dots of fire,
braving the darkness...just like these
selfless white shadows, struggling to
overcome fear haunting their hearts,
come fireflies...
share your magical glow with them,
may their faith and hope never wane,
may this heavy fog melt, and fall like rain,
may this plea stand not in vain."
(it's hard not to write depressing poetry,
when days and nights seem an eternity...)

©Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
   April 13, 2020
(in honor of our tireless, selfless front-liners)
Apr 2020 · 394
Isolated Thoughts
Sally A Bayan Apr 2020
The plague is actively claiming precious lives
with its deadly droplets...sadly, not all survive
we are holed up in our own homes
eager to feel back, airs of our known norms
not easy to be without human interaction
though distantly, we fulfill human obligations
quara­ntine, or isolation isn't only a solution
it's a path to meditation and self-evaluation
refuge in solitude, is what we seek,
it's when we hear our inner voices speak.
this is one
unprecedented lenten season
there's no end yet, for sickness, and death
in fear, we anticipate.....we hold our breath


©Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
   April 8, 2020
Apr 2020 · 132
The Feeling is Nowhere
Sally A Bayan Apr 2020
The sun has become harder to bear
this late April morning.....under
a perfect blue sky, the sun is bright as ever,
it slightly ****** the skin,
grass takes all the heat but is just as green
and still sways to the blowing wind...

we're showered with many tribulations,
bombarded with dim scenarios...revelations

of despondency, death, desperation,
......and of man's evil inclinations...

fear and confusion filter through holes
and tiniest crevices of grounds and walls,

we make do with small corners,
just to create spaces apart  from each other

we hear warnings...talks in apocalyptic
tones...we learn of events cataclysmic,

yet, we ignore earth's stormy winds and waves,
telling us.....begging us to change our ways.

we breathe, we can see, we have ears
clearly, we choose what to see and hear...
.........­.................Spring's sky is all over,
but, the lilt, the spring feeling, is nowhere


Copyright Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
April 5, 2020
(forget the beach, be safe on home shores
  lest you get the virus abhorred.)
Mar 2020 · 270
Sally A Bayan Mar 2020
It starts with HI! or HELLO!
a timid eagerness slowly rises...and implodes,
then, comes a wary handshake...lo and behold,
both smile shyly, as sweet conversation follows,

they move on, naively basking in the novelty
of, "us,"...tasting sweet waters of "you and me,"
expecting things to turn out well...eventually...
a seemingly inane anesthaetic created by love, allows
heart to be pricked by thorns...painful, deep, slow...

for some couples, the magic wanes and dies,
damning...dimming, love's bright sunlight...
the hurting one, rather than cringe,
struggles.....copes with sharp fringes
...............................of GOODBYE...

yet, there are lovers who strive,
they give their all, and determinedly survive,
day by day, they rise from the wrong and right,
and are able to laugh in their years of twilight,

recalling first Hellos, when love was a sweet lullaby,
combining efforts, to never ever sing "goodbye."


© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
    March 29, 2020
Mar 2020 · 148
Through Dreams
Sally A Bayan Mar 2020
I wonder what in this world
could ever be worth a thought
from you, or me...if it were not
about love........if it weren't
......because of love...

long, long hours of late nights,
make me think of that huge  
world that parts us two,
boundless lands and oceans,
i span them all, to be with you be with you

my wings take me to neverland...
there, where all my dreams are fulfilled,
where grass is always fresh, never dry.,
where sunshine never hurts my eyes
and immeasurable seas and
boundless lands...just cool streams,
and fields of green, gold and amber,
and by the bend is where love resides,
you're always there...i never have to wait...

yet, I know my truths...just a taste,
just a preview of my own prairie, own Utopia...
a few minutes of being daft,
.........................why not?


©Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
March 25, 2020
(pardon the mushy write, fellow poets, it's my way of coping
with my fears...seems the virus is closing in on the whole world.)
Mar 2020 · 192
As If
Sally A Bayan Mar 2020
As if,
...wrapped in strands of golden thread,
shining...atop his spotless white steed
this knight came right to my front scape
as i stood by the garden...wind blew his cape
even as sun shone bright that moment,
sun, gold and white almost had me blinded.

his blue-greenish eyes stared long
as if he already knew me
as if he was to swoop me
as if i needed rescuing,

but, in a swish of wind blowing,
his golden cape flapped...shielding
him...he and his steed's muffled neighing,
were swallowed by the leaves' rustling

he a few second's whiff
as if, gobbled by the wind...t'was so brief
something i forgot...a thought made me stiff
oh...what a waste, what a shame,
i didn't get to know my knight's name...


Copyright Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
March 20, 2020
(a work of fiction)
Mar 2020 · 304
Sally A Bayan Mar 2020
Almost no vehicles on the road
instead, there're long queues of people
filling the sidewalks...more batteries needed
for thermal guns to check temperatures 🤒
before they are allowed to pass through...
perhaps, first times are really unpredictable

people are in panic...buying more than what
they need...ignoring the needs of their fellow
human beings...perhaps, crises make people
selfish, greedy...we are being indifferent 😑

it's like, the virus comes from a chimney
exploding its black, infectious smoke
throughout its immediate surroundings,  
and far, far beyond borders

perhaps...nature is trying to call our attention
perhaps...we don't care, the world is crying, "help!"
perhaps...God is speaking...we just refuse to hear...


©Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
March 18, 2020
Mar 2020 · 99
Sally A Bayan Mar 2020

(of Solomon)

On starry nights,
i think of the comets and meteors
that graced the starlit skies of past nights,
of falling stars, as i uttered my wishes,
and remembered sweet words spoken,
like a love song...

"you are my sun, my source of light,
my accompanying glow at night,
you are my rainbow,"
to hear you say them, was just divine...

feelings and people may not live long enough
but stronger than death...

i refuse to acknowledge a lukewarm, or dying love
dwelling embers might just need to be fanned
no anger, or raging fire, must consume one's heart
after darkness from a broken heart, loss, or pain,
always comes the promised by God...

* "Close your heart to every love but mine;
    hold no one in your arms but me.
Love is as powerful as death;
    passion is as strong as death itself.
It bursts into flame
and burns like a raging fire."

   *(Song of Solomon 8:6 -- Good News Translation)

(From an old poem...edited)

Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
March 10, 2020
* "Close your heart to every love but mine;
    hold no one in your arms but me.
Love is as powerful as death;
    passion is as strong as death itself.
It bursts into flame
and burns like a raging fire." *
   ***(Song of Solomon 8:6 -- Good News Translation)***
(a biblical passage close to my heart)
Mar 2020 · 215
Sally A Bayan Mar 2020
In distance and in despair
and existing and in the
bliss of love reciprocated, and in the pain
of love unrequitted...verses dance and call,

poetry has its own pulse, its own heartbeat,
it calls, taps the shoulders any moment,
awake, or adrift, it just can't be ignored...
even in a tangled, or weird circumstance,
it sparks like a bulb or a comet, curving
in a rainbow...riotous some days, teasing, fleeing,
then, turning up at unexpected times and places.

in every bit and breath of life, in every seed,
in every drop of dew, in every ember burning,
there is poetry birthing, growing...

deep within us flows green, purple, red,
glum gray, darkened inspirations...fleeting,
but, when time is ripe, they linger long,
giving us time to capture them all
we sense them...we give space
we speak them, or we write them,
:::::::we are conduits:::::::


©Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
February 11, 2020
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