East...and west, are we?
north, and south?.....maybe...
we were nurtured with love,
our eyes and our minds opened
to different isms that helped shape our
values...we were brought up, bearing our
folks' customs, traditions and principles...
we have different faiths...some practice...some
don't...some, don't even subscribe, yet, survive.

we have dry and monsoon season...in
other parts, pleasant weather, cold winds,
and in some parts, snow.....turning to ice

we are  a mix of white skin, seeking for a tan,
and brown-skin, hiding from the sun;
one's night, is the other's day,
there are surfers among us, playing with the waves,
there at the cusp...gambling...daring fate...
there are those who hide from silent freezing winters,
finding warmth and comfort in long hot summers...

countless points of comparison,  
yet, we've something beautiful in common,
a connection of feelings, of words...our poetry,
flowing like blood, through our veins...endlessly
feeding, fueling our hearts and minds, with classy,
themes....sometimes bold, mushy, or....sassy...
no set skeds...we do it even through adversity...

we write......

we tell about our escape from life's banalities,
mindscapes, landscapes immersed in frivolities

yet, we await the marvels of each  morning we wake,
remembering gratitude, in every breath we take...

years have passed us by,
still, plays this soft music that mollifies
and inspires......heard only by you and i
prodding us, through hours, of day or night

while you exist in your own part of the world,
as i, in my hot, humid cosmos, long for cold.
::::::::::::::::::::::::::


Sally


© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
    May, 19, 2019

.............to sit down and reflect
on how we lived our life the past
years, months, weeks, days, hours...
it's not the only time to recall
the wrong decisions we made,  
the people who got affected, and
how we recompense(d) them...

Lent is not the only time to be kind,
to be giving to others...we go deeper
than thinking good...being good, and
doing good.......love must shine in
our actions and words, naturally,
it must radiate from within us
all the seasons in our lifetime...

older folks always told us children then:
"be patient...find time to read, try to
understand the Passion of the One
crowned with thorns...it could lessen
the stubbornness in you...or, change
some of your stubborn views..."

until now, i ask myself: if i had been there,
would i have stopped?
would i have helped Him in His sufferance?
this leads me to my own daily crosses...
the lightest, the easiest problems worry me,
without analysis...i quickly pray for solutions...
...i whine......even in silence, i complain...

most people have flown out of the country,
some are on their way to blue beaches
to play games on the sandy shores...
some stay home, watch movies on netflix...
me?..i am alone...but not really alone,
pondering by the garden....with two white
puppies nibbling on my toes and slippers,
naughty, exploring nonstop...ruining my oxygen
and money plants...messing the veranda floor,
i almost rang their former owner.....but,
their enquiring eyes did melt my heart...

these puppies, somehow, brought light
to my blurry mind....taught me to just
accept what is in front of me,
without asking questions....
i do believe...reflections
come off and on...anytime,
...lent is not the only time....
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
:::::::::::::::::­:::::::::::::::::::::
((Maundy Thursday reflections))

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::­::::::::
     HAPPY EASTER, EVERYONE!!!   PEACE TO ALL.
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

­
Sally

© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
April 18, 2019

:
..
....
........
...........

As often as a human's breath,
deadlines and restrictions pop up
simultaneous with emergencies
chores, and necessities...all in a fast
pace, many things are prioritized
...though, most are unnecessary and
occupy precious space in our lives...

everyday, we struggle...silent battles
and tribulations stir the soul...
for some reason, some things cannot
be changed...some people play deaf
and stay the same.....neither could
thoughts towards them, be altered...
sometimes, our ties with useless stuff,
and useless people...need to be severed.
moments come when, we've had enough
..............of rules and regulations.
...................we just get fed up...

life is precious and short.....a part of me
....awaits a break......a cold phase,
.........when all my discontent would freeze
..............when all queasy feelings
...................this fidgeting within,
........................would turn to ice
..............................permanently.....
.................­......
...................
.............
.........
......
....
..­
.

Sally

© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
(an old unposted poem from 2014)

In Siem Reap, Cambodia, after a reflective tour
of the temples, a boat took us sailing.....to see
houses standing on stilts....i never expected to
sail on an endless lake.....the man at the helm
bended...he reached for something, and let go
of the wheel...a young boy, who seemed to be
his son.......quickly grabbed the steering wheel.
from that moment on, he took over...his hands
were small but, capable....when i thought, our
boat would hit an unseen rock or land, it didn't.
he took us to our destination and back...safely.
obviously, the boy was trained young..he knew  
every curved path of his surroundings...he was
aware.....cared about their source of livelihood,
proved a child can be relied on....they're more
reliable than adults, at times, despite their play
ful innocence....many times, i reflected on that
boat ride, that boy's unflinching face and hands
i asked myself over and over,  "could i steer my
boat the way that boy did?  am i navigating my
self rightly, even on life's odd waters?.....have i  
ever helped steer reeling boats before? brought
(them back to safer shores?.........not just mine?)
\::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::­:::::::::::::/
   \::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::­:::::::::/
     \::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::­:::::/
       \::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::­:/
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~­~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sally

© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
    October 19, 2018

A colorful, blinking lantern
dangles by the eave's ceiling
green, red and yellow lights hung
outside the window, stilled at day time
but......dazzle the eyes at night

i am late... no pots of poinsettia
yet, to brighten the veranda

in the living room
the tree top is bare,
no pretty angel or a bright star
to complete its attire
mind is already set, decided, on what
festive foods should adorn the table
what gifts...to be laid under the tree
........all these occupy my mind,
........as every once in a while
i think of unfinished issues,
uncompleted tasks that nag me
.......problems i could not resolve
.......a few unfulfilled promises
.......to some....and to myself
some planned moments...failed
my targeted time....didn't work

Christmas eve is fast approaching
the house...is not yet fully decked...
i am standing.....and though i think of
these thoughts of incompleteness,

after all these years,
i don't care that much anymore

i just wish, it would be easy and slow
when things, or people have to go
i wish that love would abound,
to never cease.....the fires of anger
and hate, be doused and subdued....
i wish that all, including myself,
find wisdom in the serenity prayer...
i wish that we shift our eyes, our hearts,
away from material things...from power...
let us focus on Him...the true reason
for this festive holiday season......

may peace reign the world over
may it begin with you...and me...

::::::::::
Prayer of Serenity

God grant me the serenity
To accept the things I cannot change;
Courage to change the things I can;
And wisdom to know the difference...
:::::::::::::



Sally

© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
December 20, 2018

That late afternoon, my first sight,
of the desert, filled me with sighs,
trip was a soul-searching journey, i realized,
not at all scary....the darkened sand dunes
were dimly lighted by the moon
the unembraceable sky was a night show
a million stars and more, joined in the glow,
no known perimeters, souls are free to mull
moments are unpredictable, no longer dull,
such immense space!....minds and eyes
roam.....there are no lows....only highs
no demons, just God...so kind with His rules
gifting His sky, His love, to us, human fools
He heals the holes in our souls so patiently,
through bright paths, He leads us to Eternity
.......................where He wishes us all to be...


Sally


Copyright Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan  
November 2018

X X X

In some places,
monsoon season has long ended,
in other places, some freeze, some quiver,
bending their bodies, to warm their guts...
::::
the head aches....it swells, wanting
to spew, to set loose some things
as nature speaks....murmuring
its restiveness, through gusts of wind,
::::::::
the weapon....is impatient
its holder now alert, feeling sentient
but, unswerving...sounds are clear
hurrying footsteps  do not matter
:::::::::::::
hand stretches...grasps a sign
fireworks have come and now blind
..........an unprecedented high
an untold moment becomes nigh
an energy rares to be...needs to be
......and is now ready to be
::::::::::::::::::::
already atilt
snug within the palm, its hilt
sword has yet
to pursue, to capture...but is now set
:::::
:::::::::::::
...and when she began to write,

she did it with such elan!
mind, hand and sword, worked as one
catching bright, newly born ideas
writing them down, as quickly as
they came to mind...she started swinging
dashing...circling and criss-crossing,
black blood flowed from the tip of her sword
created lines, with defined letters and words,
captured thoughts......filled blank pages
with scenes of action, without traces of rage

............................
in moments of restless silence
............her poem was born....
...........
.........


Sally

© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
    July 1, 2018

Sun is setting.....the dark rushes in,
from its bright orange glow,  a pale
tint of  orange turns fast to  bronze
gray, like metal.....suddenly, there's
that powerful whistle!.......suddenly
what matters, is to count the hours
'til whistle sounds its leaving, on its
way into the open sea...as a million
stars...graciously take over the sky

grip relaxes........hand lets go of old photos
candle light flickers, moth dances in circles
"no rain, please," a whisper, like  soft wind
blowing.....the heart leaps each time a boat
arrives, heart breaks when the whistle tells
of departure....the whistle...haunts this sad
soul...swaying trees, wooden walls, in their
own ways, listen....lizards rarely knock, the
cicadas stop their night songs......as dweller
withdraws from an old self, from an old life.
hushed wailings melt bits of pain...it's hard
to forget a life lived solely....for one's selfish
interests....a family abandoned...a lost voice
talks to God....of repentance....and of regret,
for years of straying, for precious time lost
an errant human being, longs to be  within
family circle again....the hugs....the giggles
baby's cheeks......the warmth of loved ones
they're a thousand reasons.....to reconsider
babies have grown up....people are weaker.
wind whispers their names under the fiery
sun...but, mostly.......in the still of the night.

"God, who would want me back?....why didn't
you let me? there at the gorge, or the stream?"

how many futile attempts had there been?
how many more boats must come and go?
how many more sunrises....sunsets to see?
one cannot.....could never escape from life
how does one learn to accept....to forgive?
when?...how....does one forgive one's self?

sleep didn't come.......faint dawn light peeps
through clearing clouds...the owner, the old
man is back, brought a daily.....with a photo
of the dweller...reportedly missing for years
a contact number, and a reward...offered for
precious information...the old man knew, he
too, was lost once.....he understood the need
offered the old cottage....to help another lost
soul, find himself again.....took long, but this
new, overwhelming courage has taken over!
dweller hurried.....then, hugged the old man
a God-given friend...in his darkest moments
the boat arrives by noon......sails before dark,
..........finally, to take the dweller...back...........
.............................. H O M E ..............................

Sally


Copyright Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
September 28, 2018  (Pacific time)

Today......in some places, heavy rains and
gusty winds rule, no way to control them
today, here where i am....sun beams with
fire.........hands keep fanning the hot spell
away, i think of ice...of snow falling from
heaven....touching the skin with coldness
that freezes the sadness in our heads...we
slowly become aware.........silently, gently
it fills spaces...seeming weightless.......yet
it soothes feelings....every drop, a comfort
we ponder more, as it amasses....painting
hills,  mountains, with  immaculate white
all over.....as if choking, but never slaying
cleansing........healing.......even the human
heart and mind, from bad energy......from
stubborn dirt......from being broken.....the
sparkle of white and  the refreshing  cold
bring clarity  to one's darkened  thoughts
a respite....a shedding of old, broken skin
much like new existence..............a rebirth.


Sally

Copyright Rosalia Rosario A. bayan
September 16, 2018

..


Save from the hidden nests of birds,
it was the only one there...isolated,
like an isle...crested on the leveled
top of a gorge...its way down or up
was through a hand-carved series of
steps on its *****...at its front was a
curved gorge......one would think,
it was trying to cross over

the cottage was small, weather-beaten,
desolate......its wooden walls seemed to
have shrunk...its faded colors proclaimed
its age...its having survived past storms....
from its window, the stream was seen,
and heard, flowing on and on between
these two precipitous valleys.

light came from the sun...and moon,
music was provided by the murmurs of
the forceful wind, the continuous flow of
water on the stream, the stirring of the leaves,
the crackling of branches and twigs, the birds'
singing in the spring...the pounding of heavy
rains on its roof...and countless other hymns
of nature......the dweller had heard them all...

beneath a lonely moon glow,
when nights were cold,
there hovered low 'pon its aged roof,
rounds of layered fog...like a series of
steps....like a stairway to the sky...
fog slyly crept, and wilfully shrouded
the cottage.....it vanished from view,
the two gorges and the stream, hushed,
in the dark loneliness of that secluded
spot......their vulnerabilities, trapped
inside....misshapen silhouettes...

in light and in dark,
the whistles of nearing and departing
boats....were wailing, haunting calls,
piercing the peaceful calm of the valleys, or,
maybe, the stilled complacence of the cottage,
or...of the one living in that lonely cottage,
...lost, or gone astray, now weary and worn,
willing to be found...longing to be reunited
.......with the light and warmth of love...

the cottage, the gorges, and the stream
would be loneliest,
without the cottage dweller...


Sally

© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
August 27th, 2018

We are all planters and sowers
in this huge field...where seeds
of graces and blessings, as well
as trials and tribulations (i call
them weeds), are strewn in all
places...made to blend...to help
shape and strengthen our faith,
character, our emotional stamina...
all these seeds and weeds, paint
our earthly existence with bright
and darkened hues: blue, gray, black,
green...red, purple, yellow ochre, bronze,
and countless other colors of the universe.
it seems, we human beings are born with
coloring books, bearing our names..it's up
to us to paint them on canvas, or in words
...it's up to us, to bring light to our own
darkness, or,  to make them blacker than
a starless midnight......maybe an ebony
horizon to those blinded by stubborn beliefs...

truths that weren't perceptible then,
are much more visible and vivid now
i recall...when troubles piled up then,
i forgot to pause...to analyze,

i saw small alleys, when there were
wider streets...it didn't occur to me,
i must have the fortitude...to search...

i saw crowds, when there was much
space on this earth...failed to realize
that there were lessons to learn from
crowds, that i could create better space,
that these weeds also bring graces...

while looking at the atmosphere, my
eyes, my mind were totally eclipsed,
almost blinded...seeing only dismal skies,
when there could've been sunlight,
if i wanted to...within myself, or around
me...regardless, if it was stormy outside.

i could've created a gap from grief
i forgot that, light and dark take turns
...come what may.....they alternate...

much lessons and wisdom were gained
from younger days...........it is true...
we cannot change what we've started
yet, we can begin where we are right now
and create a different ending...



Sally

© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
    August 16, 2018

The sight of rain,
of wet clothes, wet plants,
wet doorsteps, wet hopes and dreams,
and, that known scent of sadness and grief
all these...create soggy, sluggish minds

we just lost two dogs to the virus
the glum of monsoon rains affects the moods
the "yays" from cancelled classes
have all passed...
sun is shining, not too bright, though,
peeps like a tease, but,
enough to dry the ground...

i see vacant lots...almost naked now
motor's droning hum is a lullaby
that lulls the mind
a strong smell stirs the nostrils and
defines a welcome pleasance...
i sniff....and chase away sadness,
with this intriguing scent
.....of freshly cut grass....


Sally

© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
    July 25, 2018

(a Father's Day acrostic, reposted...edited)


F-athers don't always show their feelings, they're not

A-s demonstrative and warm as most mothers are...yet,

T-heir love is deep...beyond measure....it's amazing

H-ow they hold their weak moments, without a tear falling...they're

E-steemed...like a statesman of enduring greatness...silently,

R-apidly perceiving the needs of their children, their family...always

S-elfless, as mothers are....to FATHERS, family is  their priority...

::::::

A father is made of  concrete,
hard as stone...a bit creviced at times
.......yet, always replete
with pebbles of love...and warmth, especially
when he nears the threshold of his home
to his children, his heart is soft as satin
...in his home, he is the hearth...the wall
........the love for his family,
............a fire burning within him:::



Sally

© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
    June 17, 2017

No one else, but a poet...can bring colors
to scenes...with verses, in crass or subtle
tones......gather words together in lines,
uncertain in their ebbing and flowing...
the results create surprise in many
hues that could make one cry,
grimace......frown......or smile

readers are led to far, or near
destinations...to the cool, sweet air
and peaceful atmosphere of paradise,  
or, to unlit corners...uncharted waters,
or deep into an abyss...or, a black hole,
an unknown corner, where moribund souls
are biding their time, maybe, they could
now define by themselves, purgatory and hell,
understand those sunken souls who have lost
all...except their arms, and begging eyes...
then, through appropriate words,
a poet paints a laborious path, or
a stairway...so an enlightened reader
may climb back to safe, calm waters...

a poet makes the mind see a human heart,
beating in many rhythms...throbbing,
.......aflame with longing and desire,
bursting from ecstatic, sublime moments,
then, later on,  shift to grayish thoughts
that cut deep....tormenting...crashing,
............gnashing the heart...
a poet paints a soul walking on cloud nine,
later, to dip feet in celebrative pools.

sometimes, a poet would rather not, yet,
an inner force prevails, thereby paints a
drooping soul...dying, in total surrender,
ready to fall..............but, again, with a
barrel of lively-colored words,  a poet
takes this despondent soul to berth,
with soothing verses, bring it to a rebirth...
every human being is worth an effort
..............even those that have fallen
.........................are worth savin' .....

a poet's palette is uniquely
enriched with colorful experiences,
a poet paints life in its truest colors,
..........could be dark...or bright
.....nothing more......nothing less...





Sally

© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
    January 29, 2017

.... it's normal...maybe it's not,
maybe, i overdo it....yet, i still do it...
i always think of things to come
...at day time....even late nights,
thinking too much of my children
my children's children...i must always
be there...for when they need help...
i worry too about my siblings
i even think of my siblings' brood
my dear friends and their worries
...thinking how i can help them...
later, i get weary....fed up at times,
exhausted from worrying, wondering
how i could offer even a bit of a remedy
especially when they are too far to be
touched warmly...or, my hands are tied,
....or, not that long to reach out...

i realize before long...i am not alone
decidedly, i refuse to be solaced
by the thought, that my worries
could just be pebbles...not rocks...
i musn't compare at all....

(excerpts from an old posted poem...edited)

Sally

© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
    May 20, 2018

dear ones )/)(/\|\//open your hearts\spill out your
pain and sorrow unto this vast, moist earth, whisper
to me your secrets...i never tire, i listen....//)\ i hear
everything )(/)(/ be healed, be soothed by my cool
touch (/ be embraced by the wind that sways me \/
kneel over me, let your tears fall upon me, feed me
with your heartaches, your brokenness...bury them
'neath my roots, i'll choke them with my tight grasp.
in the open air...shout out your dragons, your night-
mares....let the wind blow your dark shadows away
let the sun melt them, deny them space  \/)/  i cover
the soil with a green  carpet.....one with the sun, the
wind, and the rain....i go wet, i go dry....i thirst, and
i swallow them all \\||....i am the grass ../)//((\



Sally
© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
November 13, 2017