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Jul 2014 · 1.1k
T R E A S U R E
Sally A Bayan Jul 2014
Treasure

I have seen  shades of jade
i've felt kinds of agate
Green, red garnet
round pyrites
steel cold
frozen
dead
ice
...
I
t o o,
touched,
and got so
enchanted by
red rubies, purple
amethyst, red and pink
bamboo corals, emeralds as
green as the meadow, sparkling
crystals, shimmering, like diamonds.
...
But, these gems are a pale comparison
to what I keep and cherish deep inside...
...
I
have
this  o n e,
very  precious,
unparalleled treasure,
I could never live without...
the LIGHT of my life, HIS PRESENCE,
MY CREATOR,  MY  LORD,  MY G O D~
the LIGHT of my life, HIS PRESENCE,
I could never live without
unparalleled treasure,
very  precious,
this  o n e
have
I
......


Sally


Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Jul 2014 · 955
FRIDAY NIGHT SYMPHONY
Sally A Bayan Jul 2014
Friday Night Symphony


The light shower has stopped tip-tapping
Upon the blue-colored roof of the veranda...
Suddenly, a cloak of darkness prevails...
The moist coolness of the air gives
A refreshing feel this particular evening.
Two frogs are throwing croaks at each other...
One would quickly reply to the other's croaking
Within seconds... it seems
They are engaged in a conversation,
While above us, the roof creaks as
The green-eyed stray cat slowly walks...
By its measured footfalls, it is obvious
It is lurking in the dark,
Carefully waiting for the right moment
To grab its prey,
The one with the careless, scratching
footfalls...

The crickets are having a grand time
Singing their monotonous song...
Across the street stands a big mango tree, where
A gecko is nestled on one of its branches,
Making its night calls repeatedly...
Could this be their mating season? For
This particular night, it calls fervently, scaring
The night vendors selling "balut,"
Or freshly boiled duck eggs,
The home-bound residents hesitate,
More frightened  now,
As they pass through the vacant lot...

All these are happening, while distant stars
Spread glitter over a vast sky
As blue as indigo,
And an ivory crescent moon
Hangs suspended...

My delightful mug of coffee is steaming
While I am stargazing,
To a unique symphony i am listening,
This Friday night of a week ending...
      
        

Sally

Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
***Our old folks claim "Balut," or boiled duck eggs, provide more nutrients, strength for those  who work the graveyard shilft, and those who easily get sick. In my country, it is sold by vendors starting at late afternoons extending to late evenings.***
Jul 2014 · 934
EXPLOSION
Sally A Bayan Jul 2014
Two ***** are
A F I R E,
flames within are further fanned,

WRATH
is breaking free from its leash...

like a BLOB,
spreading quickly on all directions

BLOOD and
MERCURY
are both rising...

the once silent voice
now ROARS,
like THUNDER,
gaining
COURAGE,
gaining
STRENGTH,
THREATENING,
the
PIN
is being lifted...

this
BOMB of RAGE

is about to
EXPLODE

any second now...

€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€


Sally

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Copy­right 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Jul 2014 · 1.4k
I C I N G
Sally A Bayan Jul 2014
Icing...

This Sunday morning dawned so differently
I woke up to a lively disposition
The fresh air surrounding me smells of flowers
so rose-fragrant..

This early, I think of you.....

And I see the cream on my coffee
The strawberry jam on my toast

I feel I have plenty of honey to sweeten my lemonade
On a hot summer day


A dash of pepper....plus,
A pinch of a bay leaf,
To enhance the taste of my
Chicken Adobo...


Always, on late night snacks,
You are the ice cream topping
On my slice of apple pie,


The bubbles in my glass of wine
When I am celebrating,
When basking in your presence,
In our happy moments together...


I'll even tell you
You are some kind of sweet music
To start the good memories flowing
When we are apart...


I am thinking,
Even in the years to come,
You shall always be the finishing touch...
The icing,
To complete my whole being...

In my life,
I have never been so certain....


Sally

Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
...felt good from start to finish, so this must be a feel-good write...
Jul 2014 · 1.0k
D A N C E
Sally A Bayan Jul 2014
Dance

The  neighbor's stereo was playing tango music
too loud, it made me look at my red painted toes.
I realized, my feet have not even swayed
for so long now,
they've grown timid and wary
of making the wrong step.

All i want is to dance,
to be safe, warm,
close to one, as close as
cheek to cheek,
go left, then right,
lean, cling, then hold hands,
be held on the waist,
dip, then circle gracefully,
and step, a stretched arm away,
be brought closer once again,
hearing clearly the sighs
as the music reaches a high.

But, it was a chicken dance i had joined then,
the shaking and jiggling were so
repulsive...convulsive
confusing.
it mattered not who fell out of the tempo.
the desire waned,
fires die,
fires died, alright.

My feet are raring to swing back
to be alive once more
on life's dance floor
no more falls, trips or missteps this time
i'd like to dance with a slower beat
with more grace now
who knows,
this could be my best dance
ever!

This has got to feed my jazzy mood
play my chosen music
maybe do the shimmy for a while,
then shift to the bossa nova,
swing to its cool, hip-py rhythm.

Whatever the beat may be,
my partner and i...
we shall blend in......be it mambo,
the rumba, cha-cha, even tap dance,
to celebrate this new chance on life.
Together,
we shall dance the samba on the wide floor,
let the hours fly by.

Then, with a waltz,  we'll take it easy
until we finally get weary,
until we decide
to slow drag
the night
away.

  ***

Sally

Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Sally A Bayan Jun 2014
Why does it turn its head from side to side?..........


Watching from the bay window, i knew that very moment,
it was obviously up to something, a mischief at most.
it was comfortably hunched under the cool shade
of the sweetsop tree; the fuschia bougainville,
its thorny  branches  added  to the  shade.
Glaring blue-gray eyes appeared to be
basking in the sunny weather, the
yellow and pink wildflowers, its
body, hiding from the rays of
the sun, hiding 'neath the
tall, swaying  branches
of the oxygen  plant,
with its soft stems
moving weirdly
like a see-saw,
the succulent
leaves, one
by  o n e
being cut
off its stem.
It seemed sure,
as it  hit  its  nose
a g a i n s t  the  whole
bunch over and over....the
leaves, one by one, fell  softly
on the ground. Now, i know why
it turned its head, from side to side...
how surprised was i, for it gathered  the
fallen leaves to where it hid  underneath  the
sweetsop tree......for there, the leaves occupied
some space, and then i saw it lay upon the coolness
of the gathered leaves, then leant its head beside an old
empty clay ***, cold, too, i suppose.....fell asleep in comfort.
I fought the urge to lift this clever,  self-reliant  creature, take it
to my lap and cuddle it, lest it scratch me with its furry paws, glare
at me, even growl at me....instead of rubbing its  body  near  my  legs
giving me sweet meows, soft purrs, so, i left it alone while cat-napping.



Sally

Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A.Bayan
Marian, another one for Lady Jane...please take a moment, lift yourself from your sorrow, read this poem, with Lady Jane  on your lap.
I hope it helps, Marian.
Jun 2014 · 893
TWO TINY HANDS
Sally A Bayan Jun 2014
(1)

I bring two tiny hands
to my lips
both so tender
a smell of new life
just released from within
soft pinkish hands
that make mine look like giants
raring to grasp some warmth
for that sense of security
while i, too,
await that tight grasp on my finger
and that first sweet smile, for
they bring new beginnings
and countless dreams to be dreamt.

(2)

I bring two tiny hands
to my lips
like those of an angel's
pinkish
soft
tender
light as a soft feather's touch
it is a trip to the clouds
overwhelming
feeling so much joy
unexplainable tears
f a l l i n g
feels like
H e a v e n.


Sally

Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
***The feeling is kind of different, the arrival of a first grandchild...and the next babies to come...
Wrote this for us grandparents, especially for the new ones,
like Francie Lynch***
Jun 2014 · 635
Who Would Have Imagined?
Sally A Bayan Jun 2014
(For a sweet girl named Mc Writes)


Who would have imagined?


It seemed only yesterday
when I chanced upon
this sweet lovely girl
have known her
ever since,
without
meeting
her in
person.

Brokenhearted,
she was then in her
former  profile  photo
her head, almost always
bowed, as  if  in mourning
laden with so  much  weight,
heavy with pain,  and  sadness.

How I wished I could carry some
for her... to lessen the load,
but...I didn't know how.

Yet, time could
never be stopped.

So occupied she became
busy as the young are
her mind geared
to make her
dreams
come
true,
a fine
writer is
what she
aims to be.

I picture her now, in my mind

Who would have imagined

A young girl like
her, would be
the one to
pull me

u p --

when
i was
down
there
in my
lowest
moment.

For, it was the
other way around,
when last year
we first met.

Who would have imagined?



Sally

Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Mc Writes, I pray you like and enjoy this simple worded truth.
We have yet to meet, and yet, I feel I have known you for a long time
now, iha.
Jun 2014 · 554
"FOUND" DAYS WITH MY FATHER
Sally A Bayan Jun 2014
(a follow-up)

Those days, I could still recall clearly
When, I did not feel warm hands
That would catch me if I ever fell
When I took my first steps as a baby...
When I had no one to take me to school on my first day
Had to cope with fear through my own childly ways,
I did many other firsts in my life,
On my own,
Without the warmth and caring presence of
My father....

Somehow, a notion came about...
And I reflected long on it...
This is an Epiphany in my late summer years...
Those days I was without him physically,
Were the moments I strongly felt his presence...
He would be---
In front of me
Beside me
Behind me,
All those times, taking care of me
The only way he could:
By invisibly watching over me...
While my mother was at work,
While I was playing,
While in school,
While growing up as a teenager...
When my safety was jeopardized,
He was very much with me...
In my dreams, he would comfort me...
Talk to me, assuage my fears...
Even wanted to take me with him,
To save me...
And yet, he didn't....
He was selfless in his most unseen
But felt ways...

During the darkest, scariest,
Loneliest, and most difficult moments,
I just had to imagine his face,
Then things would turn out okay
For I felt his presence then...

Today, as I reflect on how I got to this age,
How I lived my life without him,
I have realized, those long-running hours,
Were not lost days at all...

I now have found my days with my father,
For, he is  my guardian angel,
He had been, he was, he is,
He will constantly be with me...
All my days,
Here on earth and beyond...

All my days...



Sally

Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
***Thank you, John Stevens! From your comments, this poem was born.***
Sally A Bayan Jun 2014
He is the buddha in their household.

When he arrives from work,
his two elder daughters run to his sides
already holding their guitars,
wanting to start jamming with him
right there and then.

The two younger ones
stand close to his feet,
waiting to be swung with his arms
as soon as he puts down
his heavy black bag.

His third daughter just hugs him tight,
his tummy choking within her tiny arms.

Right now, he is walking on air,
smiling widely, as his five girls
give him their  gifts of homemade
loom bands and paper robots,
as they all  greet him loudly---
"happy father's day, daddy!"

He is my son, Norman,
he is the father of my five
granddaughters...

He is the buddha in their
household....


Sally

Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
***They are  always a sight to behold...***
Jun 2014 · 8.1k
Lost Days With My Father
Sally A Bayan Jun 2014
I never got to meet my father...
He died when I was nine months old,
But his presence, I always felt
While I was growing up,
Even up to this day...

He would often visit me in my dreams,
Told me not to worry or despair,
Took my hand,
Told me I could go with him..
Which I almost did...

A few times, in high school
I felt a light push on my back
When my Home Economics teacher
Almost caught me nodding...I was
Too bored, to focus on her sewing lessons...

I was always saved from falling
Each time I climbed the guava tree...
I feel some kind of force stopping me,
Standing ahead of me,
Whenever I cross the street, even now...

My late aunt said she found me
Looking up and giggling
When at three or five years old,
I played by myself beside
My father's tall and sturdy book case...

I see his face when I go through
His dwindling collection of
Edgar Allan Poe books, including his
Law books, and a few western pocketbooks left,
All, with mottled pages now...

The matrimonial bed he shared
With my late mother is still in use...
His portrait is hung on our wall...
Today, the fifteenth of June, his birthday,
I look through his eyes, and-----

In silence, I greet him,
"Happy birthday, papa,
Happy Father's Day, as well."
In my mind, my father lives,
And my own stories of him therein dwells...

Sally

Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
***Happy Father's Day to all fathers here on HP! ***
Jun 2014 · 842
I AM...
Sally A Bayan Jun 2014
From one shaft of a sparkle, i bounced
Like in a magical moment....i flounced


I leapt to the heavens, shot like an arrow,
For all to see... I AM YOUR RAINBOW
THE COLORED ARC ABOVE YOUR CLOUD
When rains and thunderstorms are no longer around.

There are days, gray colors seem to be spreading doom
I AM THE LIGHT that melts and clears the gloom


When blue skies dim during the day
I'd soon be near you, I'd surely find a way


When you are without strength, and stilled,
I AM YOUR ARMOUR, YOUR SHIELD,


When unable to speak,
I AM YOUR WORDS, YOUR VOICE, YOUR ECHO
From behind, I prop you up, let bleak moments go,
I AM YOUR CANE, YOUR WALL, YOUR SHADOW


I AM  ALL
That would make you WHOLE


Through all kinds of weather
Well, that sounds like forever
I will always be your RAINBOW
The dark would later turn me into your SHADOW
I AM saying, there's no stopping me
This is how it's going to be
For, I HAVE BEEN,
I AM,
and I WILL ALWAYS BE
Please, don't fight, just come be with me

...and just..let me be.


Sally

Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Jun 2014 · 501
GHOSTS
Sally A Bayan Jun 2014
Ghosts

Children's voices from a nearby school
have softened
and slowly faded away...
the streets are cleared: no more school buses,
all gone
for the day...
people, stray dogs and cats are free,
roaming the streets,
having fun in the fading light,
even as the dark spreads...
faster, and
wider...

evening quickly creeps upon us,
the dark descends lazily on our
weary minds and bodies...
it roosts on our self-confidence,
too long at times...filling spaces
between moments of fresh air
and deep sighs...
sending in unwanted thoughts
things we would rather not remember...
but---
dismal light from a lamppost
sneaks in through the windows,
and creates shadows that sway
and dance on the wall...
dormant figures gain consciousness,
dragons unconquered start to waken...
out in the dark they emerge:
blag!  blag!  .blag!  
heavy footfalls bringing tremors,
breathing out red flames,
and start spreading terror...

in the midst of a spacious arena
is where we find ourselves...
vulnerable, stripped of our courage,
hiding.....from these blinding,
fiery and scary scenes...
from earthbound ghosts of a dark past
that cower over us...
it is true, darkness fades with every morning,
it is also true,
ghosts come visit every once in a dark evening...

tonight is dark and quiet,
out here in the cold
and pitch black darkness,
i know they would come,
i could feel this weird coldness,
from a weird ghost of the past...
night of all nights!

i must not fall...

i am not alone in the dark!



i am not alone in the dark...

i am not...


for


warm is your one hand, now under my elbow,
the other, lightly resting on my shoulder...
you came, my dearest.
oh, please, let not your hands learn to
hold another's warm body.

may your eyes never stray from mine,

may your arms never falter,
may they never slide,
may they never
fall,

may you always,
a l w a y s,
hold  me right
never loose, never too tight
just hold me
firmly.






Sally

Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A Bayan
May 2014 · 6.0k
DOORS
Sally A Bayan May 2014
~~~~~

Even at this point in my life, i still,
could never have my back to the door...
I always face the window
or the door itself...
When the opposite is inevitable,
there are no airs of safety,
or thoughts of peace.
What is it about doors, even windows?
They are supposed to be symbols
of new beginnings, new chances...
But why don't i trust them enough,
to have my back to them...
Like someone,  or something evil lurks,
waiting for me 'til i have relaxed my reflexes...

The door and window, i always seek,
always glad after I've gone out of each exit...

But then, behind you, no matter what,
there will always be another window,
another D O O R
                              O         O              
                   O         O    
                  R O O D...

I sometimes wonder:
is it the doors?
Or...is it me?



Sally

Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
***Some random thoughts that  came out of my mind after reading Gonzo's DOWN THE HALL. and while looking at the glass door.***
May 2014 · 866
Empty Arms
Sally A Bayan May 2014
A bright full moon invites,

midnight blue firmament is rich with starlight

while a gentle sea breeze blows on this starry night,

making stargazing such a delight...


Twas a house in a quaint village, with a dimly lit gazebo,

two shadows, two lovers' hearts are aglow .......

to Schubert's Serenade, they dance, embrace, like Romeo and Juliet

their bodies, clinging so close, now turn to moving silhouettes...


the night's romantic mood attunes with the weather...

in the garden's hidden corners,

further down, near the sea waters

nameless couples coo at each other...
,
hoping for that promise of union

waiting for its consummation...


On
    this
          fascinating
             ­            lovers'
                                 night

a captivating
                     full
                          moon
                             ­     invites...

alas.....

            my  
                  co­ld
                            empty
                                      arms...

                 ­     
..............it
          ......  does
                        ... not
                                 ... excite...


:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
~~~~~~~­~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sally

Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
May 2014 · 758
The Rest of Me...
Sally A Bayan May 2014
Feeling numb, even blind, i am deaf,
i don't want to move or react anymore...
i feel my soul depart from me,
it moves, light as a feather
skimming above deep waters...

my eyes have this fixed gaze
as i drown in a river of tears...
I have wept unceasingly,
day and night....

my feet....

they struggle, wading on sad waters,
the current is harder to deal with, this time...
The sand underneath, softer,
I am
almost sinking....

angels, good souls surround me
easing pain, watching,
pulling me up, so i may not go deeper...

i know,
i feel their love...
but the hurt,
it is all over me...

i am torn between
pain and duties...

i feel the
space
of being alone,

because...

i want to be alone,

to sink
lower

deeper.

~ ~ ~
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
~ ~ ~

b u t,

this sense of selflessness,
it prevails...
for their very sake....
i must be with them...hold their hands...
lead them through...

they, that surround me...
they are, what's left of me,
they are...the rest of me...


it is most transparent...
i could feel it... now...

there is joy...found in pain...



Sally

Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Thinking of Maria...
May 2014 · 527
Blind Alley
Sally A Bayan May 2014
~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~

It was annoying, to see they almost stepped on it...like  it was  part of the busy street, even with its white covering...it was  market day, the stalls were lined with baskets and trays filled with  all kinds  of  fish, fresh water and  salt water alike; clams, *****, mussels, shrimps, sea  weeds, anything edible from the sea. Newly picked  vegetables  were crisp, one could easily bury a finger nail through its flesh.....vendors need not lie, they  really were  freshly-picked,  newly harvested,  and home-grown.......One single turn of my head, and our eyes meet, our paths again cross.  Holding  fish  i  had  bought, i watched  it  p o k e
its face against  wet garbage  baskets,  fallen fish, shrimps and  limp crablets.  i  noticed that it stared,  it  focused only  in  one  direction. Underneath  the wet  stalls,  it  felt  and  sniffed  for  food.......it  was starving. Then, it fled, holding on to its loot with its mouth..straight ahead,  it went..it  didn't  stop to  watch  out  for cars and  carts  and people crossing.  i was the one who gave out a  deep  sigh....relieved  that  it  had  crossed the street....alive...it came to an  almost hidden end..I could  not let go.....i had to see...watch it  feed its  kittens, and
there, i discovered, now, we were face to face...no wonder...it  stared through me......it never blinked......it must have felt....i was no threat.

G o d,
oh, h o w
infuriating!
my heart bled,
i turned my back
how did it happen?
i  watched  it survive,
do  its  responsibilities
cope  with  its  disability
**­w  it   embarrassed  me
realizing how exceptionally
needy, a human  being  could
be, we could pick up  more than
bits  and  pieces, we  can learn vital
lessons from a  lowly  creature of God
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
a blind cat hiding, living, in a blind alley.


~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~ o ~

(Another one for Lady Jane, Marian....)


Sally

Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A, Bayan
May 2014 · 663
A Dialogue....
Sally A Bayan May 2014
A Dialogue....


I promised I would pray for her and her loved ones
Here I am, just starting to talk, in silence...
Instead, I find myself assailed by questions,
You are an understanding God, never exacting,
Never angry, I have never questioned You,
But today, I honestly ask You:
Why is this happening? How could this be?
How could You have allowed this? Why?
When will this stop? How much longer?
Have mercy!
Have mercy, please...please...
Heal their sorrow, this pain, make it end...
Make them stop, the leaving....
She has lost one, two already,
The tears may now be dry,
And yet, she, they still cry....
How hard it is, to cry without tears.....
What has been done cannot be undone...
So I beg You, please, make the hurting stop,
Let them be healed,
Give them Your miracle....
Now....


Forgive me, my Lord, for questioning Your decisions...
Forgive me for even thinking of questioning you...
I know I am silly most times, but,
Thank you, God, for always listening...


(For Maria )



Sally

Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Hearts and minds are overladen
The weight, the pain, immeasurable
even for us who love them dearly...
Those who are near, watch them go through their sorrow, their pain...
While those of us who are distant, can only sense, anticipate, hope and pray...
May 2014 · 515
HOW DO WE?
Sally A Bayan May 2014
(Whispers)
~~~~~~~

can you feel us?
do you know we are just beside you?


how do we make you feel we are, right now,

patting your back, trying to make your tears go away,

telling you how sorry we are for having left so soon?

there are things that happen which are incomprehensible

the reasons, as well, are beyond our understanding.

how do we assure you, enlightenment, acceptance

will come, in God's time?


our hands are so light, we couldn't hold you, like we did before,

our kisses on your forehead, are like a feather's touch,

but never do touch...how we wish you'd feel

how we encircle you with our embraces....


how do we whisper in your ears,

let you know, we are now above all dangers,

here, where there are no more fears, only calm waters

no more fires that ****, only gentle sun shining all over

not even a shred of violence in the minds, in the winds...

we are in a place where the arms of serenity extends...


and yet, we... we find ourselves still unsettled,

we still do not have that perfect peace,

just by  knowing...


how much you are hurting....

~~~~~~~


(for Maria and family)



Sally

Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
May 2014 · 708
I Don't Have The Heart
Sally A Bayan May 2014
I Don't Have The Heart

0
    /\    0
     /\   /\

A  shower cooled us last night,
this morning is kind of drought-y.
one of those dry spell days.
everything is awry, misplaced,
displaced, or has to be replaced,
all sorts of problems, deadlines overwhelm me.

There are no developments or
movements outside to notice...
everything is still,
the leaves are motionless,
not even a whiff of a wind
to make the chimes move.
no colorful flowers, not even a bird in sight.
i am thinking the trees are bare,
the front garden is a desert.

Nobody wants to sit on the steel-hot garden seats
the rocking chair is like a statue
everything else is frozen....
except the hot, steaming temperature today.
nobody wants to sit on the steel-hot garden seats,
because i told everyone to leave me alone for a while...
because i couldn't let them see i was going through hell.

How do i free myself from this band
that confines every movement
of body and mind...
from being riveted to the chair where i sit?

I crossed my leg, swung it up and down
somebody almost got kicked...suddenly
small hands wrap my shoulders...
a small head rests on my chest,
as one thin thigh slowly lands on my lap...
i feel a warm breath on my left cheek,
a soft, gentle voice comes through my left ear:
"Hug, mama Sal...."
I don't have the heart
to ignore, or refuse a request from an angel,
my youngest granddaughter, Elisha Mae.....
her innocent eyes almost level with mine...

I hugged her back, planted kisses on top of her head
hummed softly and cradled her...
this lasted longer than expected
i had thought she was already asleep...
but my angel's attention was caught
by her sisters' shrieking, out in the garden...
angel ******, in a jiffy, my lap was empty
she joined her sisters, shouted with them,
swimming, having fun in their big vinyl pool...

I watched them from where I sat,
experiencing a different kind of joy,
as i listened to their voices, to the
splashing of water and all their other noises.
they will all calm down in a while, i expect...

The heavy feeling comes back, i realize,
the weighty anvil still exists
dimming the clarity, the flow...
here i am now, still struggling
with thoughts and words
misplaced
displaced, and those that must be
replaced...
i see no progress, there are still deadlines,
i am nowhere near restful waters...

But, i eagerly wait for this day,
this weighty dry spell day to pass...
this time, without shame, i shall  ask
reassuring hugs from my angel,
like a child, i shall tell her how
her warm, refreshing hugs could heal me, and
how i dread the thought of falling, sinking deeper,
down the sleepy waters of this River Lull.

Sally

Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

**
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
People,
People who need people,
Are the luckiest people in the world
We're children, needing other children
And yet letting a grown-up pride
Hide all the need inside
Acting more like children than children
Lovers are very special people
They're the luckiest people in the world
With one person one very special person

A feeling deep in your soul
Says you were half, now you're whole
No more hunger and thirst
But first be a person who needs people
People who need people
Are the luckiest people in the world
With one person one very special person

No more hunger and thirst
But first be a person who needs people
People who need people
Are the luckiest people in the world
May 2014 · 786
Rain...
Sally A Bayan May 2014
Y
O
U
smile  as
the   r a i n s
p r e v a i l, over
the rays of the sun.

T
H
E
o n c e
blue skies,
now paled by
g r a y  clouds
w a r n   us  of  an
impending  g l o o m.

A
N
D
y e t, my
heart leaps,
At the sound
of  r a i n  falling,

F
O
R
I would
soon find you
n e x t to me, the
moment it starts to pour.

T
H
E
f e e l
of rain on
my s k i n, is
that of solace
and. w a r m t h...

I
forget
all about
time and my
worries.......It is
a  pat on my  back,
                      
O
N
E
touch so
reassuring,
as  if, it  were
your   h a n d s
caressing  my  face.

(Published 1997)


Sally

Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
For Margaux-----I hope you like this humble, old rain poem, iha.
I do love walking in the rain...
Sally A Bayan May 2014
Out in the backyard,
there's dashing and diving,
swooshing and smashing
tender leaves and twigs are breaking,
crisp, brittle branches are dropping
without much thudding...
on the ground...silently falling...

No more knocking from
the house lizards up the ceilings...
silenced are the cicadas by
these distinctive oral noises,
followed by what seems to be
a screeching sound...
robbing one of precious
sleeping hours...
clearly, they are heard
in every dark corner
of our stilled backyard...
to and fro they fly,
with no signs of presence in the sky
a plane in night flight
at least has light in sight....
in the dark, while soaring
they suddenly go plunging...
aiming on what ever they have laid
their sharp eyes and claws on...
an ugly scene, they create
of torn leaves and broken twigs,
revealed as daylight approaches...

in the meantime of this particular
pitch black late evening,
i am left wondering
why they are so energized...
so noisy,
these nocturnal winged mammals...
extraordinarily active,
so alive...
in the still of this cold, bat-ty night....

    (late night of April 9, 2014)



Sally

Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Apr 2014 · 2.2k
...nature's clock...
Sally A Bayan Apr 2014
...5 X 5...

Rooster prepares for early waking
content with just chicken napping
breathless: wings are powerfully flapping
each morning, weird song playing
waking us with endless crowing.


Sally

Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A, Bayan
...it is just after midnight,  the neighbor's rooster, roosted on a guava branch, starts flapping its wings, gathering air and strength, for in a few hours, it would sing its morning hymn...
Apr 2014 · 821
...My mind ventures...
Sally A Bayan Apr 2014
At 2:39 AM, eyes painstakingly open, mind ventures
in the dark corners of the bedroom even past the
windows, wandering through the dark kitchen,
deciding.....to rise or not to rise from bed.
better judgment wins, i now sit to write
of what dwells in this sleepy mind of
mine, what could possibly keep
me from deep sleep...except
a catch of breath brought
by a swift passing of a
thought, or a noise
u n s e t t l i n g
s o l i t u d e
disrupting
precious
silence,
sends
m e
tip-
toe-
i n g...
a weird
shiver is felt,
no sounds, no
stirrings, cold air,
eyes on me, staring,
stilled anywhere, hiding
behind me, spying, i sense
a presence nearing. oh, God,
hands  are  shaking  like  crazy,
i see blue-gray marbles, i am now
eye to eye with a creature in the dark.
on the table, waiting for it to attack me,
any time now; turned on the light, fast as
i could, was now face to face with the white
creature with blue-gray marble eyes, its mouth
opened, scaring me with its sharp fangs, stepped
forward, but gently rubbed its furry paws against my
hand, giving out soft, and friendly meows and purrs,
trying to cover a plate with just plain bones, not even a
trace of the grilled fish....leftover, from last night's dinner...



Sally

Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Here's another one, Marian, for lady Jane...
Apr 2014 · 724
To a Rose...
Sally A Bayan Apr 2014
She is a rose...
of course,
It is but natural
she was born
with those thorns...
but thorned or otherwise
she rises in splendour
beauteous in every colour...
her petals, oh so fragrant
When dried, they are more redolent
especially when kept in a sachet...

She brightens our days with
the many colors and tones of her poetry.
some may be sad  outbursts,
reactions that could have been stirred
by daily circumstances...
others are gentle reflections,
it doesn't matter...
they are roses arranged in a vase,
or scattered
among a garden of flowers...
she  showers us with a variety
of her chosen thoughts for the day...
it is always a mystery,
she keeps us in suspense!

Thorns are an accepted part of her body
even when she tries to spare her fingers,
she gets pricked, just the same,
she  deals with the wound
as she would always do,
just as tests of life, like thorns,
are part and parcel of our daily lives...
she knows very well those roads to be taken
and those to be avoided...

On a stressful or gloomy day
when our spirits are clouded,
almost sagging towards the ground,
when under the weather
when restless or anxious, or
when needing solace,
the rose-y colors of her poetry
do their best to comfort us
some days they are red
other times, pinkish
other days they are yellow
or immaculately white,
peach-y, at times, seeming delicious
one may be tempted to have a bite...

Don't know how or why...but we
must not question these miracles of God...
time comes for a rose to be dormant...
during these winter moments in her life
she  lives, she exists in silence...but
underneath, her mind is so alive....

From deep inside, she writes,
she hears, she reads,
gathering pictures, words,
anything important in sight
wherever, whatever the source
her cloth-bound journal is always ready
to  record her new-found discovery
all pages would soon be consumed...
a new one to take its place, is presumed.

Petals may fall or pinched one by one,
her stem, may be left to stand on the ground
but strength is like second skin to this rose
she has risen above past thorny episodes
surely, she will rise above future ones,
if they come...
these days, she is in  some kind
of a wonderful state...
i pray she will always be that way.

she is a sturdy wall to lean on,
she is indomitable...
her stem may sway,
she may bend, but
she rarely snaps
she is a rose...and
will always be
a rose...

Her name is KELLY ROSE...


Sally

Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A, Bayan
For you, dear Kelly Rose...I hope you like it.
Stay as sweet as you are...
Apr 2014 · 700
There, among the shelves...
Sally A Bayan Apr 2014
Finally,
experiencing the serenity
i've always hoped for earnestly
feeling that rush of air against  face
where eyes could roam in a vast space
the feel of wind to brush against skin
And the sight of trees to breathe in...

But, my feet brought me  here...
why in front of these  rows of stores?
never thought of stopping
to do some impulse shopping...
do i pamper myself with new stuff?
there's no need for a new scent,
with what i have, i am very much content.

There is no smile, no comfort,
seeing these attractions...
there are no reactions......
but, eyes are now seeking...
been unconsciously looking
for something that is unexplainable,
in denial, the mind is, it says: inconceivable...

There, among the shelves...
the search would shortly end...

An image of my face appeared on a mirror
passed by, then suddenly sprung out,
a swish of a shaped light
beside my own face
a passing thought of an image...
it made me smile,
the fog fading, the face, clearing a bit...

When it is within me, this presence,
everywhere, there springs exuberance
it is felt...needing space
not just a shadow, not just a trace...
to bring home, to be with ...
to end this seeking
to end this longing...

Too cumbersome, this weight..
too much to take for one.
there, among those shelves,
nothing could satisfy,
nothing could fill this empty space...
for some reason,  i feel, i know......
i must live on...i must move on
without this face, this presence,
this unattainable existence,
and yet, i must try,
i must still be able to smile....


Sally

Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
(Might be too mushy for some, this poem.... I was frustratingly sad while finishing this poem.. then I heard a familiar song being played on the radio...)



      by Nat King Cole

smile though your heart is aching
smile even though it's breaking
when there are clouds in the sky
you'll get by
if you smile
through your fears and sorrow
smile and maybe tomorrow
you'll see the sun come shining through
For you
light up your face with gladness
hide every trace of sadness
although a tear
may be ever so near
that's the time you must keep on trying
smile, what's the use of crying
you'll find that love is still worthwhile
if you just smile...
~~~~~
that's the time you must keep on trying
smile, what's the use of crying
you'll find that love is still worthwhile
if you just smile....
Apr 2014 · 1.1k
W h e n ...
Sally A Bayan Apr 2014
It could happen any moment...while
Strolling in the park...or while in the church,
In a movie house...or, when riding the bus,
Or in a cab on our way home,
It could be another long night, or early morning,
Like right now......at 2:30 AM,
While lying in bed...when body and mind are both at ease,
Muscles are rested...no struggles,
When heart is stripped of its trappings and
Trimmings of false pretenses...all are put aside,
When mental reflexes and defenses are relaxed,
When mind is bare...purely reflective,
Bereft of pride that shields the true self,
Cruising along the avenues of our imagination,
Taking our time, as we meet faces,
We find ourselves in places,
Existing in a variety of scenarios,
When, suddenly,
Like a comet in the night sky,
A swift spark of an idea catches our breath...

We sit, in a hurry......before it gets blown by the wind...

The mind is now done relaxing,
When the muscles stiffen normally
When we are no longer slouching
When we see coffee on the table
Steaming hot on the ***...

Under the dark sky,
Our day has started...

It is  time,
To turn those sparks into fireworks,
To create, and touch the lives of readers
Through another day of discovery,
Guide them by sharing our own recovery,
From stumbling down, over and over,
How it is to rise from a fall...
We enlighten them with our
R E V E L A T I O N S
Of self-discovered truths,
And our very own words of wisdom...

When body and mind are up and about,
Alert........ cognizant of
Every sound, and every burst of idea,
Then we know.......what time it is,

It...is...time
To
Write.

^^^^^

Sally

Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Apr 2014 · 707
Old Friends
Sally A Bayan Apr 2014
Their eyes meet...
from two opposite corners of the room,
immediately recognizing,
but still familiarizing
eagerly staring
without faltering
each other' s thoughts, they are reading
yet, torn by hindrances existing...

But their hearts and minds overrule...
"forget the couples surrounding!
forget the music playing!
forget the shadows in the dance ongoing!"

Not a blink, not a wink...
eyes, seem deliberating,
steps, though measured, still move in haste,
walking,
the distance, lessening,
crossing,
nearing without knowing...
hands clasp
slowly,
tightly...
lovingly accepting...

Hearts are beating faster,
now communicating...
how could it be possible
to touch without touching?
thinking their lips, kissing,
to hug without embracing,
through their eyes,
caressing...

~~~it is time to escape~~~

Eyes still glued to each other,
face to face this moment,
here...now...
breath against breath,
lips...apart...begging...
both unaware
of their chests thumping...
arms seeking arms,
lips seeking lips...
this is the moment....
sweet, sweet surrender...
love, long withheld, to be released,
desire, has to be unleashed...


Two old lovers,
once lonely doves, now making love,
in their own passionate way,
making up for long lost times...

Two old lovers,
left with no choice but to
tread along life's beaten roads,
find comfort once again,
in each other' s warmth...
arms wouldn't dare let go,
never, never again....



Sally

Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A Bayan
Apr 2014 · 729
threadbare
Sally A Bayan Apr 2014
morning sun is brightly shining, but,
in the dark, is where i am,
protesting,
there is a war going on.
changes are seen, felt,
happening to me and around me.
they are unacceptable this very moment
i am bound by something that rebels in my innermost.
this questions my faith in myself,
my capabilities.
am i languishing?
deteriorating?
is this just a respite?
could i have been blinded?
is something being painted before my very eyes
that fails to penetrate this weary mind of mine?

why is it that, at the same time,

A passive countenance,
a vacuum...accosts me...
there's this sting,
a biting feeling,
it goes on pricking,
puncturing my chest,
because it has been
realized and accepted:
i haven't strayed that far from
I, Me, Myself,
so obvious, in this written piece...

no thoughts
except those of inadequacy...
dwell in my mind
they dry up my throat
as I leaf through trivial pages,
going through each phase of life,
where I find myself surrounded
by things I've taken for granted
people I've thought of as uncelebrated...
thoughts are shallow,
the mind is narrow...

compunction floats in the air
merges with the winds of sensitivity
that blows against my reeling body.
then I come across a well of words
that further stir my already troubled mind
thoughts that pierce my eyes, and
my heart to the core,
shattering my complacency
into pieces,
my numbed awareness,
is now more awakened...

this vessel doesn't offer much,
it is wanting, asking
for more compassion
it is just half-filled...
ineptitude is admitted
and acknowledged...
a cloak is thrown over my head,
a last-ditch effort,
to shroud my now enlightened mind...

but, these awakenings make me quiver...

i need another kind of mantle,
light and transparent,
to hide myself from shame
to shield my poor threadbare soul...


Sally

Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
It seems this poem is the first part of my posted poem, REASONS....
I feel they are very much connected, although it was unintended...
Apr 2014 · 773
...food chain...
Sally A Bayan Apr 2014
one quiet, hot summer noon,
all were gathered in the dining area,
having lunch and a pleasant conversation,
while i got my small *****
and started mixing soil for re-potting.

it was clearly a stalking adventure.
a gray stray cat,
furry, but no longer spry,
its rounded back hunched,
slowly crawling, inching,
towards one hidden corner
of the bushy  backyard.

she glanced at me,
saw where she was headed,
i already spotted her prey.


the cat was wary of tripping,
careful not to waste any effort,
for her targeted prey
was just a stretch of a paw away...
almost there... she must be careful,
her intended victim must not know
of her presence,
for she needed that catch:
a small monitor lizard,
greenish, brownish,
sleek, slippery and slim...
unknowing still,
unaware of its impending doom,
for it, too, was busy,
staring... too focused...
it was ready to swallow its own prey,
a small but fleshy, squirming earthworm.


in a flash,
the cat saw me, our eyes met.
she lip-synched a "meow,"
telling me to hush,
not to intervene.
and so i carefully turned to my side
as if i didn't hear or see
as if i didn't care.
i bowed my head and
resumed re-potting my begonias.

just a short while passed,
when a soft purring was heard.
i turned to see the cat, still busy
licking, cleaning her paws.
she glanced, and again
lip-synched her meow,
maybe her way of thanking me.
and then my furry friend was gone,
...lost among the bushes...

i, too, got up...weary, and thirsty.
i've had enough of these stalking adventures,
enough begonias have been re-potted,
an existing food chain, i had just witnessed..
i need my lunch now,
with a tall glass of iced lemonade.


Sally

Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A, Bayan
I hope you like this one, Marian...
Mar 2014 · 550
AFTERMATH
Sally A Bayan Mar 2014
An initial dose of Harriet Tecumsah Watt's poetry , and its...

    "AFTERMATH"


It is not at all absurd or unacceptable...
never impossible,
that an older lady like me,
could gain precious wisdom,
as well as freedom,
from our younger generation...
theirs is a mixture of the old and the new
drastic, maybe, but sincere and essentially true...
here are bits and pieces of ramblings, brief reflections,
exercises i gathered for my heart, my mind and my soul...
what i ended up with,
when i first visited Miss Watt's page
one Sunday morning:



"You know you are a poet when---"

during Sunday mass,
when gospel is being read and discussed,
and a string of ideas come rushing through your mind
you reach for your pen, in panic,
but your small notebook is not with you...
you thank God, endlessly,
your open palms always come in handy....



"You know you are a poet when---"

your hair gets thinner, fewer, because
while pressing yourself too hard,
your hand skillfully sorts out every strand of hair on your head
and in the process, having them fall on your shoulders,
just to find the right word, right lines, right rhyme...
just about everything right,  from start to end...



"Never feel ashamed about your poems...
— never stop loving your poem, even when faced with harsh criticism,
especially from those who won’t compose and only offer opinion."

from this moment onwards,
never again shall i be ashamed of my poems,
be nervous when i am about to post them
regardless of how simple and shallow they seem to some
"especially those who won't compose and only offer opinion."



i had always wondered then, why my thoughts, my interpretations
always differed from those of the rest...naturally followed by
personal evaluation... that mine were poorly thought of,
mine lacked the necessary depth...not worth listening to...
but...not anymore.....

"Do not let anyone tell you what a poem means...
  Let it show you itself, become your friend
  Share something secret only between you..."



there are ways we can help those souls in need:
lessen their pain and misery,
if not with alms,
then, with kind words or  soothing  deeds...

   " If you have something to give
     if there’s nothing in your pockets
    Maybe shrug your sorry shoulders
    and flash a meek little grin."



this made me reflect even more,
about myself, my faith, the time past
what i have done with this gift of life,
at this certain point in my life....

"Buddha may not like me"
For I've read so little about him...
one thing i know...his teachings,
his truths, agree with those i've grown up with,
those i learned from my elders,
those learned by my elders from their own elders...
"Jesus doesn't like you,"
i dread the day when He would ever dislike me...
i am aware of my own wrongdoings,
i know that He knows...
but i believe, He is not an exacting God,
He gave us choices, and a gift of free will
but then we created "in-betweens"
between those choices...still,
He understands, He forgives...
i am at peace now...
for i have made my choices
my path, i have chosen...



...for me, this is the best part, one that has moved me, touched me deeply,
   and in the days to come, will continue to touch my heart with each re read...
   it is like a place to come home to, when things don't work out the way we
   expect them to...
  


"Take me to a lone park bench
Take your arm around my
shoulder
Take the weight of my weary soul upon
Those shoulders where I belong
Take me out
walking
Take my hand with care
Take me as I am
Take me if you dare

But take me not for granted
That hurts most of all

Take me not for granted
And I will always remain fulfilled.."



I've been TAKEN...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Sally

Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Mar 2014 · 658
B R I E
Sally A Bayan Mar 2014
---a cheese-tasting cat? or a cat-tasting cheese? no, of course not!
             ---it is a cat named after a kind of cheese---

      
A picture of the late kitty, Scheppes,
appears on the computer,
she still, is the chosen wall paper...
she once ruled  the place, and
the heart of her master...
she was so adorable,
everyone must have dwelt on the thought,
she is irreplaceable...
but wait.....
what is this heap on the table
carelessly scattered,  sprawled?
a child's  coat?
with black stripes over gray fur?
what are these glowing,
green crystal buttons?

aha! suddenly, there is movement!
it is alive!

head and paws, now are visible,
green crystal buttons have turned
to emerald-eyes, now piercing,
glowing even more...
she shows her white vest underneath,
standing on her two paws,
clinging tighter to her master's feet...
to him, she softly purrs,
communicating in whispers,
staring over-confidently,
glaring eyes, slitting eyes
accompanying her every meow...
obviously, she feels contented,
lazily, peacefully slouched now,
between the keyboard
and her master...
young still,  naughty,
the house seems small to her whims,
too obsessed at times with Q-Tips,
sleepy after all her mischief,
seeming lethargic at times,
always savoring that feeling of peace,
happiness, she once didn't have...
for she has now found a new home,
she has found a new master to love,
one who would surely love her in return...

her name is B R I E ...*



Sally

Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
***Brie is Richard Riddle's new cat....***
Mar 2014 · 992
I See the Moon...
Sally A Bayan Mar 2014
Still awake at half past midnight
Thanking God, there are no snore-y sounds tonight.
Up in the sky, above the dark horizon
there's  an ivory circle that peeks
from outside the window.
A perfectly round moon proudly shines on me...
Sends one's mind to a journey,
to a magical world called poetry
Where I am now seated comfortably ..
but why am I back to what keeps me awake at night?
Stealing precious hours of sleep...
etched in my mind...it surely is...
A face that has invaded my whole person
A name that can never be disregarded
or deleted...
Lines, words keep leaping
Out of my brain,
Urging me to record them all
In my head and on paper...
I reach for pen and paper,
wait, wait...I sense a distraction,
A diversion...
In the dark, I take a glimpse
shifting my eyes
towards the sky,
admiring the glow,
concentrating,
shocking myself further,
for, from my lips,
a tune suddenly burst forth:

"I see the moon and
The moon sees me
God bless the moon
And God bless me
Please let the light
That shines on me
Shine on the one I love..."

A kid's song, from long ago,
a fervent prayer it has become,
begging the One above...
a plea, for the one I love....

Not at all a distraction.....
For it has set free my good intention...

(March 16, 2014)

Sally

Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan


*I was a child last night, just scribbling, drawing moons, toying with words, lines and unfinished poems...
......not very deep thoughts from a playful child, on a playful night, but enjoyed every moment of it......
Mar 2014 · 1.7k
Ashes To Ashes
Sally A Bayan Mar 2014
"...from dust thou art..."

It was one peaceful evening we were having,
ruined by a message; distasteful and disturbing,
a misunderstanding? no, never had been..
.but it had always been the easy way out...
it was an overflow of misunderstood courage...
someone  shouldn't have had the face,
but really had the chutzpah to reach out...
one that stood up to the last moment
to gird, to break, to wreck.....and won...
to be...to feel they belong,
this, could be allowed no longer...
this must...has got to stop...

here comes the CLOAK of non-acceptance,
it quickly spreads overhead,
but repugnance PERFORATES!

to be duped anew,
ah, brings back to life old hatred,
for those who think they know better,
but never again, to swim in bad blood...
feelings to be repeatedly exploited,
this, can no longer be allowed....
this...has got to stop...

ashes that were hidden,
ashes that were forbidden,
ashes i didn't feel like seeing
an urn of ashes i firmly refused to hold,
ashes i firmly refused to be anywhere near me.
and now, they suddenly ask,
where to take the forsaken urn?
they can just pollute the river
let the ashes flow with the current...
or, be indifferently blown by the wind
atop a mountain...
for God's sake, why not just buy a vault for the urn?
give the ashes the much-needed peace it longed for..
and let those who were once denied and deprived,
have their own share of much needed peace...

ashes may be carried away
by the sea or the wind---
but there's only one known place:
to the ground we all go,
cremated or otherwise...
so, why fuss on where the ashes should go?
"From dust thou art, and unto dust thou shalt return."


   Sally
Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan


Biblical quote, from Genesis 3:19*'
"Dust thou art, and unto dust thou shalt return."
(...what bad memories ashes could bring...)
Mar 2014 · 791
CONTAGIOUS
Sally A Bayan Mar 2014
...Kites, Roses and Apple Pie...

In life, in deeds,
You have been, still are, courageous
In your words, in your creeds,
I say you are all so sweet,
Infectious,
You all are contagious!
Just a single line of your words
Would surely, quickly be re-quoted.
You are exemplary in
Whatever you say or do...

Enlightened are those with furrowed brows
Upon reading your works,
Commendations,
And acclamations
Bothered by ideas and words
So foreign and difficult...
Clarifications,
simple explanations
Readily are provided...
One need not ask...

Like well respected, learned leaders,
Actions, words are emulated.
You are sweet...
You are infectious...
You are contagious!

If you were colorful kites,
Soaring up the blue skies
You would have so many tails
Hanging, trailing behind you...
Here in our world
Your followers  are like ants
Trailing your footsteps...
Never straying, not at all waning,
But multiplying.....

In a bed of roses,
Bees, birds and butterflies
Would never stop fussing
Endlessly buzzing
From up above, and all around you...
Taking all their needs,
Not forgetting themselves to feed,
To recreate, from your seeds
these, they are bound to heed...

If you were a plate of fresh,
Yummy and crusty apple pie,
With a scoop of ice cream on top..
Oh me, oh, my....I am bound to starve...
Pardon me, but...
This would be my call, my turn...
Surely, I would be oblivious
The first one to be ravenous
To the point of being outrageous
Can't stop...can't wait...
This is my moment:
As long as I have a mug of hot brewed coffee
I shall take my time...
I won't feel choked,
Won't even be thirsty...
Voraciously, I would finish the whole plate off...
Til crust and crumbs fill me with too much stuff...


For the Triumvirate of Bala, Nat and Pradip...

in alphabetical order, no one comes first or last... for these three are
      all soaring high in their respective styles of poetry...


there are many others worth mentioning, a plethora of names and styles, in fact...
     the right words, the right moment would present itself to yours truly, one day...



Sally

Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
***Have I veered away from the main point?...just missing, I guess...
it's been several months now without even a slice of my favorite apple pie...***
Mar 2014 · 426
SEARCHING...ENHANCING
Sally A Bayan Mar 2014
(A Five-in-One...)

The seasons have been dreary,
My eyes are now weary...
I have read a lot, though i still read...
peace, following a good deed
seems so far-fetched..
though the days have stretched...
a tiny voice, i hear...
a whisper, and i quiver
telling me of malcontent...asking me what i want
what i am looking for...for long, not just this instant
there's time, it said
of a road i must tread...
something is lacking
can't explain this wanting...
it unsettles,
i end up in frazzles...
a feeling of vacuity arises
signals the inception of crises,
even more magnified ......
as i search my heart deep inside
looking through my soul
almost sure to find a hole
it must have been rended
waiting, to be mended
must patch it up with new beginnings,
anticipating enhanced endings...
these thoughts leave me with a sigh, questioning,
one that is continuing... never ending...

WHAT MUST I DO?
WHERE DO I GO?
HOW FAR?

NO GREAT LAUGHS LATELY...
ALL EMPTY, THESE  ROARS AND GIGGLES...

MISSING THOSE BEAMS...
MY INNER SMILES OF JOY
PEACE, CONTENTMENT...

far...or near
by air, land or sea,
i shall travel that road
i must seek the light,
the voice,
the answer...
to give way to
the winter of my discontent...

Sally

Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Mar 2014 · 1.0k
Knowing...
Sally A Bayan Mar 2014
~~~

knowing your joys,
           seeing your smiles,
                   God, i am happier!

knowing your pain,
                why do i feel them all?
                             why do i hurt the more?

~~~

sally

   Copyright 2014
                     Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
---the travails of being a parent, esp, a mother---
Mar 2014 · 1.2k
Vanilla Wafers and Coffee
Sally A Bayan Mar 2014
one late afternoon,
the dark was setting in...
the veranda was inviting,
for some moments alone
where shell chimes rang and flung
noisily
with the blowing  wind...
seated my self on the rocking chair,
sipping
from my big mug of hot coffee,
nibbling on some vanilla wafers...
a lone bat swung from above the roof
and swooshed through the sweetsop tree,
leaving but a few leaves
falling down the ground.
there was this strange feeling
of not being alone...
that someone was watching me.
i searched, raised my head,
looked at both sides, then
saw two brilliant, glowing *****...
i
stared back...and
swam through those blue-green eyes,
now focused on my hot, hot drink...
we were eye to eye,
like, it was telling me, begging me,
"please, just run your
soft fingers slowly through my fur
i am so cold, i need some warmth,
care to share your hot drink with
me?
I need  some cuddling, too..."
her round tummy told me
all that i needed to
know...
it was hard, deciding, whether or not
to have her on my lap...

but then, i heard some ringing,
i had to
answer the phone.
upon returning,
i sat back on the rocking chair
very near the table,
nothing changed,
but wait...
a few coffee drops?
almost inconspicuous,
nothing there, no one there,
just my big, wide mug, now empty...
my vanilla wafers, all gone...
no longer hungry
no longer thirsty,
the roundly, pregnant cat,
the wise and intelligent
heavy, purring creature
was nowhere in sight...
still, i felt her presence,
near, and strong,
watching me,
watching herself...
somewhere in my garden
in a hidden corner,
slowed down by her heavy tummy,
waiting,
for her kittens to be born...



Sally

Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Mar 2014 · 878
A Small Voice...
Sally A Bayan Mar 2014
For The Masked Sleepyz
"What are you to do when you are stuck between the end of the world and the rest of it?"  



standing in a haze
lost in  a maze
put on a spot
left in a big risky blot
at a loss for words?
feeling behind a threat of swords?
no right actions conceived?
careful, lest we be deceived...
there's this tiny beam of light
it is nowhere in sight
shyly shining inside our mind
not to be shoved behind
a soft warning, a small voice
possibly, our best choice...
a teacher once talked about,
of this... an exit, a way out,
of that...a  dreaded spot,
and this... a circled blot...
From paths with haze
amidst an enormous maze
to get us through life's perils, puzzles, so real
glad we were given, this gift of gut feel...


Sally

Copyright 2014
Rosaliai Rosario A. Bayan
I am not sure if this short write will help....just read your poem, re read, and this came up...
Feb 2014 · 811
Tres Hermanas
Sally A Bayan Feb 2014
This was unprecedented:
After so many years,
The three of us,
Spending time with each other,
The second time, actually,
But the first time in reality...
Doing things together
Whatever the weather
Amidst the flu epidemic
Only in our house endemic...

Diving through albums uncovered
Old cards and photographs, discovered
Events recalled with each page
Of those still alive but have aged
Even those in this world now gone
No more tears now, just pure fun...

Amazing!
My sisters and I,
All in our senior years.
The times have been kind to us,
The gravity of our burdens
Never capitalized on our appearances.
In all modesty,
In all honesty,
in the eyes of many,
And in my own eyes...
We have become lovelier,
In our own ways...
Wealthy in experiences,
With each line and wrinkle
Bearing witness to the wisdom
We carry
In our minds and in our hearts,
Adding more precious gemstones
To each of our invisible jeweled crowns.

Still very much honed, our senses...
Still clear, our memories,
Olden times in our lives,
Oftentimes, recounted...
Clear as glass,
Every detail,
Every date,
Specified,
Verified,
All true.

We faced, dealt with
The acid tests of life, we
Emerged triumphant.
There weren't dull moments,
For we learned to smile,
Come what may...

In and out we dined,
Laughed, and wined,
Sang our songs,
Told our stories,
Tried on our old outfits,
Gigglings of our youth
All relived,
All resurrected.
The three of us,
Up to having more wrinkles soon,
Laughing at the most trivial things.
The "Tres Hermanas,"
As we were fondly called,
Then, even now,
My two sisters,
Oblivious of their nearing departure,
For we were having unequaled fun,
From sunrise to sunset,
Even beyond bedtime hours,
Here, in our family house,
After a long, long time.


Sally

Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A, Bayan
---just to wipe away this tinge of melancholy floating  in the air, I thought of recalling  happy moments with my two sisters who just left two weeks ago...  I miss them both---
Feb 2014 · 1.2k
1:00 AM Rituals...
Sally A Bayan Feb 2014
It is one in the morning,
My eyes open,
It never fails.
No amount of cotton clouds
Or sheep to count
Can send me back to dreams
Yet to be dreamed.
Nothing else can make me drift,
For I am now wide awake.

Down the stairs I quietly walk
Careful not to waken the others,
Lest they stir from their ongoing snore-y visions.
Straight to the kitchen, I tiptoe,
Make myself a mug of hot, hot coffee,
So I could start
reading,

Taking in a mixture of
Glorious, mad,
Magical, loving,
Happy, groping,
Sad, vengeful moments....
But internalizing all these emotions
Takes its toll...
I stop: it is time to write of
My own moments of glory...
Which incidentally,
Rhymes with...momentary,
Poetry, dignity,
Love-ly, friend-ly,
Complexity, celebrity,
I could go on and on...and
There is only one...
One exceptional moment
That comes to my mind:
One unforgettable, bittersweet autumn...

My mouth, my lips now parted,
My stare, undirected,
Dreaming~~~drifting...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Just arrived in Neverlandia!
Swimming through its endless,
Imaginary, intangible seas
Where I am alone
Where I am free
Free, to be with
My intangible one true love
Only there can we hold hands
Only there can our eyes meet
There, where we can stand,
Or sit so close
Breath against breath
Flesh against flesh
No words spoken,
Just eyes talking
No moment wasted,
For no one dare ask or tell the time
In Neverlandia.
~~~~~~~~~~
In such a wondrous journey
I also have acceped:
At the start and even in its midst,
Comes twinges of apprehension
And sadness
That unsettles my heart, my mind,
Thinking outrightly of the
Inevitable end of said journey.
Fleeting, the moments seem,
I must travel back.
~~~~~~~~~~
I ***** for that imaginary switch, and
With a heavy heart,
I turn it off.
~~~~~~~~~~

It is suddenly so cold...
I stretch an arm to reach for
My hot, steaming drink...
Oh, but it has become
A mug of cold, cold coffee!
I border on "mad,"
Lost thoughts now swimming in anger.
Have to chase back my muse,
Refresh my memory
Poem is almost done.
Have to regain
My mind's composure,
Have to ensure
My life's composure.
I need, I need my Panacea
This early morning... yet, I'm
Afraid of that same old question:
"But....where are you?"

~~~~~~~~~~

Sally

Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
..for those who are still dreaming...
...waiting for the right moment...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

:::::::::::::::::::::::::
(I had a mug of cold, cold coffee,
  thank God, I have no possession of
   a cold, cold heart:)
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Feb 2014 · 671
SILENCE...
Sally A Bayan Feb 2014
I
feel
you all
over me,
and yet, you
a r e   nowhere
n e a r.  It is  the
q u i e t u d e  that
b r i n g s  to mind all
there  is  about you.  You
come alive whether I look up
the ceiling, or straight  through
t h e  walls,  I close  my  eyes,  and
I still find you there. At this point, not
even the slightest s o u n d  could  shatter
the flow of m e m o r i e s, nor could it distract
the serenity I have always  known when I'm  alone,
for, it  is in  S I L E N C E  that I find you closest to me...

(Published 1997)


Sally

Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A.Bayan

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Feb 2014 · 829
The Lady
Sally A Bayan Feb 2014
(The first one, Marian...hope you like it.)

The Lady sat on the ledge of the fence
elevated,
higher than the rest
unreachable...
from left to right
She glanced,
observing, waiting...
action was about to begin:
the chosen two sashayed in,
from both sides of Her majesty...
if only looks could ****
they would have glared at each other
to death
they teased,
then swaggered,
emitting sounds of arrogance,
soft, becoming loud
to scare, to ensnare...
The Lady sat, still waiting,
until a winner is proclaimed...
the teasing and the noise
was taking too long, she thought...
She, who was above the rest
yawned, and was quickly
deciding...
slowly, she stood,
stretching legs, curling at the end
then left the ledge
while the two protagonists
stopped short of wounding themselves...
they looked at each other
angrily,
frustrated...
it had been an empty, useless fight
the two noisily meowed, purred
short of sparring
enthusiasm wasn't there anymore..
they went to their own sides of the street
Her majesty, gone to another place
entertaining two new protagonists
disgusted with the first two...

choosing her mate was far from over.

Sally

Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
I actually saw this happen in front of my house...at the sidewalk.
Their mating season is always very noisy, replete with angry meows, their paws and fangs ever threatening...
Feb 2014 · 856
Reasons
Sally A Bayan Feb 2014
All were created,
All exist in this world
For a certain purpose,
Known only to God Almighty...
Even the lowly mushroom
Has a reason  for being.
Here on earth,
We have certain wishes and visions,    
As well as intentions,
To take us to our own successes, farthest from perdition.
But, we also have to fulfill our  missions...
Even in our absence, they will be our arms in extension,
Make sure of a continuation
Like the river that flows endlessly
in the spring, summer, fall through winter...
The water that gives sustenance to life...
It is never easy, but we must make sure of its fruition,
Be up to it,
Be like the sun, which lights every part
Of the universe, extending its brilliance...
Until it is time for the dark
To reign for a few hours...
Be like the moon, as it rules,
Shining, though glumly at times,
Inspiring lovers 'neath its moon glow...
The stars, teasing,
Glittering through the heavens,
Beautifying the night even more.

At this point in our lives...
For a change,
Why don't we help the blind and the old
Cross the street on each long day of their lives...
Listen to those who need to be heard...

We can be a beautiful sunrise
To start the day of those
Who are in the dark...
The warmth bursting forth,
The pulse throbbing,
The heart beating...
That, which gives a sudden spark
To one who is despondent.
Let us be a spring of hope, or a happy feeling,
The lilt....
The reason for a big smile on someone's face,
The reason for a smile to glow
Radiantly...
Let us have that desire to be the reason
So that life and love may grow...

Strain our eyes a bit,
Let them see beyond what lies before us,
Don't we want our hands to be the ones that care?
Make sure our palms are wide open
Let us ask more from our ourselves...
To give more..
To do more than the usual...
For the sake of those who have less...
For those who have nothing...

Be the hot soup
For the hungry and the homeless
The roof over their heads
On a cold or rainy evening...
The warm beds, the blankets
So they can make it
Through their remaining nights
Here on earth...

We would be resplendent if we became
The cream to enhance the taste of coffee...
And why not be
The honey that sweetens a cup of
Freshly squeezed lemon juice?

Through all seasons,
Let us have the good sense
To smother the impulse to fight...
Be the voice that would speak of wisdom
To lead us to a road to freedom,
to set us free
From all sorts of battles...
Let us be inspirations,
The spur, to urge us on,
So all may work hand in hand
Towards one direction...
We can be that heavenly reason,
The light from above,
So that PEACE may predominate
Wherever we may stand,
Whatever we may stand for...

With every single stroke of God's hand,
Let us be that wand, the instrument He uses
To bring magic to all His creations
Here on earth...

Let us be a reason...


(November 24, 2013/10:40 PM)

~~~~~

Sally

Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Feb 2014 · 890
A Way Out...
Sally A Bayan Feb 2014
(FOR WEEPING WILLOW)

Inch by inch,
I reached the steep end
Of the ravine,
Struggling not to fall,
But each time, I almost did...
Remembering,
How I walked past my deadlines
With fear day after day.
Impatience gnawed on me
For my efforts were in vain
There’s this cloak,
So great, it dwarfs me
It suffocates me.
I need air, I need space,
A shaft of light maybe,
To lead me to a way out.

Sally

Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
MY EMOTIONS by Weeping willow reminded me of olden times.  This is a short poem I wrote  from those days, it is not much, it is a reminder of how life had been a long time ago.
Feb 2014 · 704
Writer's Flood??? 10w
Sally A Bayan Feb 2014
When inspirations burst forth,
Needing to be unleashed...
What now???
A follow up to Pradip's Writer's Block.....

It is as much a dilemma as writer's block,
When ideas flow unstoppable
Seems your hands are tied,
You don't have the means,
Not a chance to write them all down...
What a waste...........
Jan 2014 · 1.9k
Poetry Potpourri
Sally A Bayan Jan 2014
"A Tribute To Nat Lipstadt"

Found myself leafing through
A luscious garden of poems,
Found some  lines worth dwelling on...
Read of a man
Who writes effortlessly
Who gives himself away, too often,
Too obvious, sometimes...
While he teaches us to write
About daily motions, daily commotions...
We learn these wise words from this man:
I quote...
"write about what we know best...
"we, all feel
we, all believe in
the primacy,
the rightness of I.
but then, one must begin to observe others..."

This man writes about simplicity...
Simple thoughts. simple truths...
"No complexity nor trickery employed..."

He reads all about sadness, tragedy,
All kinds of pain, depression,
Every emotion captured in his mind...
And so he tells us---
"Let's write of joy,
celebrate reunification, singularity,
of our place,
our happy collision,
our universal location.
For where you are,
I exist,
no where else."

When we run out of things to write,
He is always around to remind us- - -

"I lifted up my eyes to the mountains—
From where will my poetry come from?

From men.
From women.
From you-reminding me,
It is where it is, not where you are...

It is here in the unread tragedies,
The wails so plain, repetitive,
The screams that never cease, the
Poems, yours, that deserve ten thousand likes,
But die ignored, despite, my best efforts."

"Let the diet begin,
no more food for thought,
no more dreams

wrought and recorded,
permit the ambient calm
of the still of the night
that engulfs,
to harmonize with the flatline
dreamless sleep that the
mind monitor machine
etchingly, quietly records..."


He appeases our restlessness,
Through these golden thoughts from him- - -

"Place your ****** hands upon thy chest.
Let them melt thru and come to rest,
Inside, the battle ongoing, under thy breast.
Watch, eyes open, knowing, fearful.
Swiftly, with no hesitation, from within,
Rip open your body, exhaling the best,
And the worst of what you got.
nobody knows the silences
kept in my treasure
box."


We can find ourselves in his poems,
If only we read on and on,
Let us find the time
To skim through his words,
And read between the lines:

"Some never find true love.
Some never experience
reckless abandon.
Some of us are
recklessly abandoned,
and never forget,
and never forgive."

"Most of us remain
unpublished, undiscovered,
unremarked, blanketed,
cloaked in bills to pay;

Living a triumvirate of
heart ache, loneliness, worry,
our normal table fare
consists
of hand to hand
into the mouth
combat MRE's,
we engage,
to survive,
just stay alive."

And, he tells us further, for our own sake:

"Be forever young n
humble;
Feel ancient and royal;
Ride tall in the saddle;
Do something nifty;
Take someone's hand unexpectedly.
Drive home in the slow lane;
Do the minimus;
Do the maximus;
Leave a book on a park bench;
Use pen n paper, write a letter;
Take a chance, make people laugh;
Barrel into contention;
Show mercy to the confused,
Show anger to the
abusers.
Bless a child with both hands;
Grasp your soul, thrown it down,
And raise a child to the sky
Straight up,
A continuum, you and they,
A ladder to heaven..."


To this great man, we would
like to say:

"You sir, are an electrician
of words, a verbal technocrat,
Plumber of the depths where
Few fear to tread, explorer of the head,
Restorer of human paintings unmatched,
Without your ilk,
this world would be unbearable,
Your heart's warming silk
Comforts bodies and souls,
Speaking from experience personal."

He has his eyes, his ears open,
Ever-compassionate,
Ready to help,
When we are like a river run dry,
When there is not a strand of hope
Left in our bodies...
Let us read his poetry,
It is a kind of music that...

"arrests and rests me,
miracle each time
I walk on its waters..."

So, let us go on and on,
Never get tired of
Picking up bits and pieces
Of these
Precious  poem crumbs
We gather all times
From his garden so green...
We bask in its paths
Brimming with pearls of wisdom,
Of unheard truths, from him,
We learned first times,
R-e-v-e-r-b-e-r-a-t-e-s
Loudly, in our ears,
In our hearts,
In our minds,
These golden Nat-ty poem crumbs.

(January 29, 2014  5:02 PM)

~~~~~

Sally

Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
My way of saying, "Thank you, Nat M. Lipstadt,  for your kindness to everyone, for always being around."
Jan 2014 · 1.2k
Hushed Declarations...
Sally A Bayan Jan 2014
~~~~~
two hands,
reach and hold,
entwine, reassure...

the eyes meet,
speak without words...

hearts beat
in one rhythm...
beating faster,
breath upon breath
as...
two lips
press upon each other,
intense kisses ensuing...

feet...
in a huddled language,
toes, touching...

two bodies,
sharing warmth,
sharing love,
sharing moments sublime...
immeasurable bliss,
undeniably
~~~d i v i n e~~~


(October 21, 2013 ...3:30 AM)

~~~~~~~

Sally

Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Jan 2014 · 802
Dusk (10w x 10 lines)...
Sally A Bayan Jan 2014
~~~~~~~

Looking out the window, taking in the beauty of dusk,
Please...remind me not, of this ever tedious, cumbersome task
Sapping the energy within me, all bottled in a flask...
Free my soul, untangle my heart from this emotional mask,
Like a fresh coconut fruit, violently parted from its husk.
Free me from these endless questions I have to ask,
Release me from daily bouts of this game of masque.
Weariness now sets in, I hide behind a wine cask...
From the coolness of the stretching dark, I would bask,
Til tomorrow comes and finds me, here again at dusk...

~~~~~~~~

Sally

Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan


:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Jan 2014 · 3.4k
Inner Battles...
Sally A Bayan Jan 2014
(A Stir of Fear)

A deep sigh seemed to have done some good.
Looking at her, anticipating, expecting...
Waiting for friends to arrive
In a place unknown to us both....
So lovely in her silence,
While going through a moment of anxiety.
It creates within me, a STIR OF FEAR...
Must I leave her? I must teach her, to be on her own,
Now...now? But how? Oh, how it breaks me...
There she stands, tall, in her black shirt,
Walking shorts, rubber shoes, backpack and
Electric guitar hanging on her shoulders...
Her hair, gathered in a bun at the back....
So naive, simply, effortlessly beautiful.
How do you let go of your eldest,
First granddaughter...soon to be sixteen,
When you are fully aware of the perils
That surround the outside world,
Even in broad daylight?
Aware of her innocence, her beauty, and
Most importantly,
The elements that could jeopardize her safety .....
Do I wait for her?
Do I watch her while with her friends?
Let her know, I mistrust everyone around her?
Almost told her I would wait for her outside...
It wasn't mine, it was against everyone's,
But it was her choice that I had to respect.
So, I left her there in her friend's house...
Dark street, dark alley, dark-colored gate,
Dark house, dark garden lights, everything
Was dark to my eyesight that very moment...

There was no peaceful moment, while at home.
The rocking chair at the veranda was a refuge...
My ever-faithful friend, kept me company...
There, I rocked myself, slowly, endlessly,
With the hope of my fears disappearing...
Thinking of what somebody once told me:
"There is nothing to fear, but fear itself..."

It had been a long day, a long night as well...
My bed time...but first, I gratified myself....
Took a glimpse inside the kids' room,
Where my eldest granddaughter,
Too tired to go straight to
Their house next door,
Was sound asleep,
Comfortable and warm
Safe from harm,
Here in my house.

And yet....
There are questions still running in my mind:
She has her parents, why do I worry so much?
How much longer can I protect her?
How much longer must I shelter her?
How do I deal with my next equally lovely
Granddaughter, also long-haired, tall,
Also with her own guitar and backpack,
When it is her time to go to a friend's house?
Will I still be around when it is time for the
Three younger girls to visit their friends, too?
Oh, God!  
The ordeal of first times never ends.

(For Ashleigh)


Sally

Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
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