Come, dance with me...
.....hold my back
lead my arms...my hand
push my fingers
they'll obey
release your power, and
fuel my senses,
......got no room for false pretenses...

I'll let my creative ink flow
inch by inch, i'll move your hands, to draw,
together,  a field of dreams, we shall initiate
while we travel, our efforts will collaborate...
let's dance, fill our sphere with gems of thoughts
**** my pen.....its fire, my fingers will stoke
i'll guide your brush strokes
in painting bright colors on our walks...

lead my hands
as i lead yours...
This giving and taking,
this push and pull stuff,
let's make great art out of it <3
......

Sally

Copyright February  2016
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

/ /  /
\  \  \


I am human,
my thoughts are where
strong desires dwell
rushing up...wishing to be heard
by the Almighty

i see
the tall bamboo trees out there
reaching.......seeking,
when winds come...they obey
and bend their heads down as they sway
they bow to the earth...accepting limits
acknowledging obedience
to One.

the slim bamboo leaves softly rustle,
as if in agreement...and i look down...

trees and i are calmed...and overcome,
by a merciful Presence,
in a soothing silence encompassing,
we are humbled...

Sally

Copyright  November 5, 2017
rrab

(a repost, from last year)

One  fine sunny day today, and
i am chilling to my bones
when i am raring to be outdoors.
like a freshly painted image
i see through the bay window,
two wine-red butterflies
gracefully diving, while chasing each other
above the lush grass-covered ground,
of our front garden,
passing beyond and below
purple and yellow orchid flowers.
then, upon the stem of a palm leaf
the birds are in a row, taking their time
watching butterflies go by.

Rising from a chair, my knees are
shaking a bit, feeling tied together....
still in my pajamas,
i see my red-painted toes,
wonder why they are all folded so
i bend some more to feel them toes
uh-oh....they're all so froze
another bout of popsicle toes.....


   Sally

       Copyright 2013
  Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

(fourteen lines)

Every day, we start our usual pace
unaware, how we follow, get ourselves into the race
going fast... becoming faster
sliding up and down, like a roller coaster.
It could be on one fine or not so ordinary day
on an unknown place along the way
we fall....get lost.....we stray
To find our way back, we retrace
But when speed becomes intolerable, or unbearable
we then pack up...we conclude, "today is unmanageable."
We inhale...exhale...settle.........make up our minds,
say, "tomorrow is another day..." we leave the past behind.
We walk anew as the day begins...keep up with the pace
try to do better... to stay within the race...

Sally


Copyright March 2015
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan





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

~ ~ ~ A POEM FOR PRADIP ~ ~ ~
(a repost)

In these early hours of evening
when sun has dipped down, hiding
cold has set in, warmth cooled by wind blowing,
your words haunt me, left me pondering.

For a sunshine poem, you asked,
but how? when it is now dusk,
there is no sun,  only dark to show,
not even a moon aglow.

All i see are fiery dots of light, shimmering
in the garden, i am alone, wondering
I do not see them closely
yet, i feel they could be friendly.

They are luminous lanterns, seemingly beaming,
could these suffice to keep your flame burning?

In the widening dark, they bask
to perform their given task
carrying drops of hope with their sparkles,
scattered ***** of chances, radiated by lighted candles.
They are so tiny, collectively bright,
wandering, even on a moonless summer night...

I have not one sunshine poem for you,
instead, thousands of Fireflies, i offer you
to let their light shine  upon your  face
dry every bit of sadness, leaving not a trace.
to dry tears hidden
ease your shoulders laden.

I wish i could see your smile
hug you, even just for a while
wear your sombrero
'til day after tomorrow.


I pray my words have beamed enough,
to save your day, to see you through...


F I R E F L I E S

by

Sally



Copyright  September 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

There is something about this
House in Hackensack...
It attracts people...like a magnet.
They often gather here, and
They are welcomed any time.
Eyes and souls surround,
Even strangers are drawn to it,
Like bees attracted to the flowers.
Reunions are looked forward to...
Even short chats and visits
For some coffee or wine
Are always welcome.
This house....
It makes people want to come back...

It's not just the food,
Or the help it offers...
The comeliness of the place,
The people that live within...
The noise... ever-present,
The shaking of the stairs, when the boys
Chase, tease each other...
The squabbles, replete with tears...
Cabinets are real heavy,
With weight-y stories to tell...
The bedrooms, so inviting, where jokes
And giggles underneath the covers
Could be heard till late hours of the night...

All gather in the kitchen,
The hub in this house...
Family, friends...even new guests
Do not go to the living room...
They walk straight to the kitchen.
There, where the home scents
Exude warmth,
Fragrant with home-cooking.
The long dining table says it all...
A different kind of music
Plays every time
And invites everyone
To stay for a while and relax...
It beckons each time...
It whispers...
"Go, find your corner...do your thing,
You'll be okay..."
And so, the cozy sun room became
A favorite spot in that house,
Where beautiful poetry bloomed
At any hour during that whole month.

From out front, along the street,
Circling around to the backyard,
Then back inside...
It has now finally dawned on this clouded mind,
What that "something" is...
This house, metamorphosed
From an old, kind of cold Victorian, to a homier,
More comfortable modernized domicile...
Now radiates with love, warmth and kindness,
The energy emitted by the family living within...
The people are the crown and the charm...
They are the smoke coming out of the chimney...
The  A U R A  of this house, standing proud
Along Catalpa Avenue.........

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::


Sally

Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

        /          
         *       \
|         \      *      
       *             \             *


Fresh snowflakes continue to fall,
in case there'd be no squalls at all,

Let's make slow soundless paces,
and with our well wrapped limbs
we'll tread on vast white spaces
while humming joyful hymns.

Our eyes, we'll let them wander
through sun and serene blue skies.
our feet definitely will go yonder
on grounds soft, immaculate white,

like freezing fields of white cotton.
our shrieks and laughter won't be loud,
we'll go forward with much caution,
as a stillness gobbles up the sounds.

We calculate our steps...we reflect,
overwhelmed by a calming presence,
a break from life's noise...we accept
the peace of a reigning white silence.


sally b

©Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
December 26, 2021

#peace #snow #reflection #whitesilence #sallyb

Pity him, or her...pity them
Pity those victims of devastation
And infestations
And molestation
Pity the children...those abandoned babies
But it is not enough...
Please...do something beyond pity.

Pity those in extreme poverty,
Suffering from incapabilities...
Pity those with agonizing hearts
Because of missing body parts
Marred, disfigured, debilitated
Physically,
Emotionally
Psychologically..
But, it is not enough
Please...do something beyond pity.

Pity even those with aching hearts
Devastated, with broken hearts
Who find it difficult to heal
Believe again, a cruel world, so real.

Be guided,in reflecting,
There are others more deserving,
Beware of those who are self-serving
Know who are in most need of caring
Know that, beyond pity, there's more to be done
Much can be done...If we all try to be one.


Sally

Copyright April 6, 2017
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

#abandonedbabies #abusedchildren #molestation #devastation #incapabilities #pity #npmimportant

Roused by its touch,
a brush of cold air
on my whole being;
am now taking in
the cold 4am air, as
the eyes struggle to
a still dark horizon.

Yet, it's already brimming
with a series of breaths.

It is automatic,
this habit of taking in
each morning's freshness
by the window...by the door,
inhaling its serenity,
slowly extricating
the soreness,
the brokenness of days past,
lingering still, invading still
a most precious solitude.

The atmosphere, already
is filled with a variety
of breaths: of faith, of hope,
of silent prayers, and
of endless gratitude.

The fragrance of dawn
blends
with raw anticipation,
bits of uncertainty,
and not to forget
the most welcome aroma
of hot coffee,
as a new day kicks off.


sally b

© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
August 9, 2024/6:56 PM

"...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."

)
~
(
~

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

some days,
a playful little girl
steers a paper boat
on a big basin of water,
plays with dogs...watching
spiders weaving webs, perching
birds and butterflies, pretending
they are dwarf friends...while
munching a red, crisp apple, like
snow white.....playful, sleepy,
and.....forgiving.

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

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


Sally

©Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
August 26, 2020

Day's Work Is Done...

Sun is setting,
Feet are fueled up...with enthusiasm
Thoughts are filled with pictured expectations,
To be met at the door with warm hugs and kisses
A hot meal on the table...steaming coffee awaits
All these, comfort my fatigued limbs and minds.
A smile, in anticipation ...a sense of *****
Atmosphere tickle my mind...i hurry
To enter my safe ground...my comfort zone
My own White Picket Fences.
|| || || || |\ || \| // || ||
They may have  tiny fractures
Some boards missing, broken, or collapsed,
Its concrete floors and walls may be creviced
I can not shun........or hide from
Imperfect truths, about my family,
Our relationships, our health.....every truth
About my loved ones and me...

It is where i come home to...
After each struggle's end
My feet and mind take me back...to my own,
My known familial boundaries...

An inner force spurs me to make those broken boards
Upright...firm once again......like hardwood trees,
Be unshaken by water and wind....be unwavering
Then, i repaint them
...to bring back the glow.

Some broken fences could still be fixed
some are worthy of fixing; but,
There are those that seem to be, beyond repair
needing some kind of intervention.
/|  || || //  |/  \ ||

Sally


Copyright July 9, 2016
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥

It is not only on her birthday, and the day she left
i remember her everyday...without fail
her thoughts visit me when i rise in the morning
she hints to me what she'd do if she were in my shoes
at night, i whisper, "talk to me...in my sleep..."

in my dreams, our eyes seldom meet...she's younger now,  lovelier
always busy pruning her bougainvillas and dama de noche,
the usual scene....maybe, she's telling me this is how it's going to be
that everything would be okay, even when i, too, am gone.

it's like, she's just outside, tending her garden
it's like she's absent, just traveling, for a while.

in the minds of my children and grandchildren
my siblings and their families
her memories play on and on, like a record spinning on a turntable
she's a serenade...a classical piano piece that won't fade
my late mother...she's a song that will not die.



Sally
Copyright May 7, 2015
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

It springs voluntarily,
...it's like a small voice
An invisible separator, and
An unseen magnet...
Amidst overwhelming crowds in your life
You step back.....you analyze.....
Pleasantries...short or long, are flowery
Nonstop gratitude is inebriating
What could be better,
...than, all at once,
From out of the blue
...a rainbow will appear
A kind of force is born
...for both giver and receiver
An energy that draws eyes, attention
...it's like waking up from a long sleep,
Pulls like a magnet...an irresistible force,
That invites, with open arms
...it's like hearing a voice, saying:
"You belong here, with me, baby,
........stay!

Sally

Copyright October 22, 2016
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

☘️☘️☘️

It's wonderful to be
a freshly blooming rose,
seen by everyone's eyes
given special names,
and compared with other
grown blooms.

But...

I'd rather be free from
everyone's attention,
i prefer to grow, to bloom
without much effort,
to sprout amongst the grass,
on some random garden spots,
to persist to exist, to breathe
even among crevices.

I'd rather be a wildflower
unannounced, unmaintained
yet, beautifully unique,
and with much freedom.

Upon me, others may tread,
but, i don't die easily,
i persevere, and then
in due time, i rise again.


sally b

© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
MAY 16, 2024

It comes unexpected,
As is expected;
.....no one knows when.....

Sometimes, it takes too long,
Reparation eludes....fades,
Slips away.

Humanity becomes
...restless...wearied...
Humility,
Rectitude
Are two
Impossible dreams.

I ask God's
Forgiveness
When
I become
Wearied, and
Restless.


Sally


Copyright March 17, 2016
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan



>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

My sister bought it years ago,
too bad, my mother didn’t
get the chance to enjoy it,
she would've treasured it.

It became a reminder of sadness,
an unintended metaphor, for loss
and pain...it always brought back
that very unexpected, very sad
early morning in February.

Its bright red handle...faded
through weeks, months and
years of changing seasons,
stood on a corner for a long
time...unused, but still intact,
until i took notice one day,
brought it out of its dusty wrap
and opened the red cane umbrella.

A smiling face suddenly flashed
in mind...a presence who, on
early mornings, eagerly recited,
“I am the master of my fate:
  I am the captain of my soul,”
tirelessly sketched portraits of
unknown faces during unholy hours,
planted, cooked, sewed, while
humming "Ramona"...one who
taught us about silent vows and
undying promises that eventually,
became ours to keep.

It's now an accompanying cane,
the red umbrella...it saves me
from miscalculating steps, from
falling debris, when keeping walls
from crumbling.


sally b

©Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
September 29, 2022

After church that night,
i had no ride, there were no lights
Just walked determinedly...
That no harm would accost me
That no raindrops upon me would fall
Were my prayers, my most fervent calls,
I played deaf to howling dogs
Never mind the croaking of the hiding frogs
I had no cane to wag or shoo away the dogs that followed
But i grew cold, I knew they were breathing, these faceless shadows
I had no more strength in store
But fear melted and came out of my pores
I believed, someone unconquerable kept my fears at bay      
While a pearly full moon, lighted my way.

The road was still long, and sloping
And i sensed the rain coming
But how could it happen tonight
With a moon in sight?
For some reason, i looked up and it was gone!  
Couldn't see, even a spoon-shaped one
There was just a soft beam,
Shedding dismal light, it had seemed.

And i,  was now catching my breath---

Almost all was hushed by the darkness
But, all took light, as i passed by neighbors' houses
Under the navy blue sky, the wind gave a not so gentle blow
I looked up, saw my pearly moon back...i was led home, by a glow.

The glow...His words, shone bright upon me,
though i saw dark, the Glow from the Gospel, guided me
they echoed that night of anticipated mass:
"If you remain in me and my words in you, then you will ask
for anything...and you shall have it.."  
He kept me safe, and so be it
God's words proved so true
From fear and danger, He delivered me, He got me through...

          (Happened the night of May 2, 2015...)



Sally

Copyright May 22, 2015
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

::::::::for SPT::::::::
(10w x 5)



...reading  you,
i see, feel
a huge anvil,
overwhelming
possessing


.........i'd fly
lift the anvil
swoop you
and loved ones


i'd free you all
from what's been
weighing you down


then, relift the anvil
drop it
where it really belongs:


...upon free, delusional souls,
who must be controlled,
[maimed]
[permanently]


  


Sally


Copyright October14, 2016
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

I Am Like My Mother

In more ways than one,
I am like my mother....
This stands before anything else:
My family is my priority
I preach to respect seniority
But, sometimes I go soft
Upon hearing pleas from little voices.

My life is replete with family albums,
Sturdy wood furnitures that have lived
Through the years, and most importantly,
Old family traditions my siblings and I
Learned from my mother.
I would prefer for these to be observed
By the succeeding generations,
Where love and kindness to others,
Table manners and saying graces are only
A few of those lessons most often stressed.

The children in my family,
Thy grew up the way I was raised.
Humility is practiced at an early age,
Where no child speaks when not spoken to,
And helping with  the chores is a must...
They are taught early on in their childhood
As soon as they are able to understand...
We have a God, our Creator,
To whom we should always be grateful to....
From Him comes all our countless blessings...

My sisters and I...
We are like a sorority.
Hopefully, the other women in my family
Would eventually realize,
There is an expectation
That my mother's ways should be kept going...
This, my sisters and I would make sure of.

Each morning, my mother would look around
The whole house and its boundaries,
With both her arms akimbo.
Now, it is I who does the surveying,
But, with my hands clasped behind me.
Front, back and sides of the house
All kinds of plants and trees surround...
I make sure they are all green and lush.
Fruit trees and flowering plants in the summer,
Several wild flowers do sprout all year round,
To grace our lives through all kinds of weather.

My mother and I, we had an implied agreement,
We didn't discuss it, never brought it up
In any family gatherings.
It just happened that I knew her so well.
Now that I'm older, I've never been so sure...
I am like my mother,
In more ways than one...

(Written August 28, 2013)


Sally

Copyright 2013
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

.....a day's, or a night's inspiration
just walks away
and escapes my mental grasp
an idea, pregnant with possibilities,
suddenly becomes infertile, like
a barren woman, or a wasteland
i try to get hold of it,
still...it glides away, falling along the
edges of my imagination.
i am bereft,
when my muse has left.
::::::::::::::

sometimes,
i eagerly dip, and wiggle my toes
on a sunny blue river that
manifests itself in my mind,
bursting with promises of new insights...
yet, a slightly curving path is hard to ignore
for, it easily presents itself......and
sometimes,
i give in to its swirls of unfulfilled
dreams, and....sublime moments,
hovering, like a hummingbird
quivering...in my own space,
there in neverlandia, where i'm left
pondering, about a life......unlived.
:::::::::::::::
my toe-dipping moments,
my rare moments of serenity,
are short-lived........ruffled,
besieged by old shadows,
because....phantoms of fear
refuse to die.
::::::::::::::::::::::

sometimes,
when treading this curved path,
unwanted, unexpected
circumstances occur,
and, all of a sudden,
my muse emerges from hiding.
inspirations bloom,
like mushrooms,
bolder,
than those that elude(d) me.
:::::::::::::::::::::::

sometimes,
it takes a while,
for love and life
to rhyme.
::::::::::::::::::::::


Sally

Copyright February 10, 2018
rrab



::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

It's a hushed, misty,
and moon-glowed night,
cool air
.........becomes
a silken touch to my skin.
my breathing
joins
the soft cricket buzzing,
.............humming
amongst the shadows,
peacefully blends
...and
........becomes
the night's lullaby.
it calms my soul.




sally b

© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
October 14, 2021

(a cluster of 10w)
><
daylight glares...melts shadows
revealing those stilled,
and those living
><
puffs of breath
could signify a desire
to still exist
><
some breathe erratically
amidst suffocating airs,
fighting,
unwilling to die
><
there're those breathing,
but, oblivious of everything,
themselves......deliberately,
forgotten
><
senile...scared...lonely
committed to indifferent homes
left languishing
abandoned
><
no longer exhaling gratitude
for, they're considered
dead...and...gone    
><
what're they thinking,
when they're with that
loneliest faraway look?
><
while wilting in confusion...do thoughts
about tomorrow visit them?

....aiming....meaning to defy death?
to again, catch precious breath?
><
><
><


Sally

© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
  July 31,  2018

(Haiku x 5)



This dark shines so bright
Blinding, unacceptable
Eyes hide from its light.

Truths are bad, sad, grim,
Taunting, stinging, destroying,
Slashing-poor heart bleeds.

Pain, shame, we cover,
Heart, shoulders, pulled down lower,
Unbearable...for,

Murmurs are like smoke,
Wind-blown...spreading...absorbed.....but,
Wise minds understand.

So, breathe....part curtains
Sun, wind, shall take charge...believe!
The truth sets us free!


Sally

Copyright 2015
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

My indefatigable soul
Patiently waits for its mate.
The many years  gone by....
Would not at all matter to me.
Faces come and go,
Changes occur without a warning...
It could be now, or tomorrow,
It could be much much later.
At this point in my life,
My soul is not to be discouraged...
My soul cannot be disheartened.
So long as there's breath within me,
Patiently, it would wait for its mate....
My indefatigable soul.......


(Some lyrical spur(ts) of the moment....from long ago..)

Sally

Copyright 2013
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

(10w x 4)

Open both arms...
RECEIVE
GATHER........EMBRACE
Smile...while
PUSHING   OUTWARDS...


Abruptly, raise arms
Like a VOLCANO,
E X P L O D E !!!
Release....precious ENERGY...


Let the
SPIRIT flow
Keep the
FIRE of LOVE
Burning!!!


Start a HABIT
SHARE YOUR  BLESSINGS
YOUR  ENERGY
YOUR
PASSIONS!!!



Sally

Copyright May 1, 2016
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

At the threshold, or doorstep
Of a ship...a gallery,
A house...a library,
It could be a forest, or a museum,
A new school or shop, a church,
An office, a factory,
On entering a new city, or country,
Take a bucket, or two
It's all up to you
There are lots of new stuff to learn,
Leave eyes, ears wide open
Be free to explore...don't worry,
Mind is a sponge,
A lot it could absorb---it is eager, for
Discovery is an adventure,
It beckons,
Knowledge awaits,
Just remember---discernment is vital.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

It could be a birthday bash
A wedding, a wake
A seminar,  or convention
First day of classes, new job
Or, a simple get-together
Where awakenings and enlightenment occur
Where you meet new faces, new friends
Old friends to reunite with
Maybe, someone to fall in love with
Could be somebody warm
Or cold...may be aloof
Brave...may be broken
Discernment is always vital.
When standing at the threshold of a heart,
Be more sensitive
Be more careful with your bucket
No one feels the air there, except you
No one knows what could happen
at the end of your visit
For, discovery is always an adventure
It beckons....knowledge awaits
It could build...or break a future.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::­::::::::::::::::

So put your hands in your pockets
But keep the fires burning
Be thirsty for knowledge
Of poison, better beware
Keep in mind: discernment is vital
It's all up to you...for,
At every doorstep
There await buckets.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Sally
--------------

­Copyright December 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

---Java Jibe--
(repost...from fourteen months back)


This  night is very different.
It is young
The moon is out there...in full view,
But it's like there is no moon,
It is dull, it doesn't glow,
Looks like a paper moon.

An empty corner meets my eyes.
Window is closed...door is ajar,
Posts...ceilings...walls...all are naked,
White...unmoving...lifeless.

I sigh,
But, a sigh is just a sigh,
Not encouraging in this piercing cold,
I find no help offered.

...just a plate to my left---with stuff..

I take a sip,
A *******, I dip...
Maybe, I could bite a tip
Or...a drip
From the dip,
Again, more sips...
This time, no more dips...
()
()
()
Mind is now deeply dipped,
W a i t i n g...with the hands
F l e x i n g.....ah, I'm
T r y i n g...to capture them now,
Stop these kites from flying
Away, out of my brain, fleeing...
This moment......I now seize,
Will stretch it to long hours, into a night of bliss,
My hot, strong, bitter drink always helps me clear the way,
The boulder, is now fragmented...crushed,
Pushed further away, to flow towards a lazy, lethargic river.  

It matters not to me,
Could be a poem or a ditty
This is a supernal moment
When ideas so potent
Like tap water, flows with no end.

This is one of those nights
When I would fall, then rise again, and take flight
Reviving inspirations to a glowing height
One moment I can't let go...I am in a JAVA JIBE
Oh, I've never been so A L I V E !



1/3/15

Sally

Copyright 2015
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
#kites   #longnight   #javajive   #papermoon   #lethargicriver

lovely Saturday morning....
      might we dance a bit today
         to ease off some sadness?*


DANCE
(A repost...some editing done)

The neighbor's stereo was playing tango music
      too loud, it made me  look at my red painted toes...
i realized, my feet hadn't even swayed
for so long now,
they've grown timid...and wary
  
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 beat
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
just steps 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 while we do the mambo,
the rumba, cha-cha, even tap dance,
to celebrate this new chance on life.
I only  wish that on our first dance together,
we may 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

(a tribute to all mothers)


When loved ones go ahead of us,
people say, "They're home,
in a better place, safe from harm...."

When a child's life is cut short,
it is most often said, he, or she is "...better off that way
better dead... saved from hovering perils..."
and  more comforting words
spoken softly......repeatedly
to help us cope with loss, with sorrow.

But, a mother in pain...bereft...defiant.. still asks:
"Who are we to say, a child is safer,
away from his, or her mother's loving care?"
a mother's love knows no bounds,
she would keep watch, with a vulture's eyes
until her sick child makes it through the night
she would climb any mountain
brave all that would stand in her way
just to keep her child safe, happy and contented

The life of her child is all that matters to her.

A mother feels a stab on her chest      
when her child refuses her love and care
and chooses to stay away from home
how could a mother be inflicted with such immeasurable pain?    
she dies a thousand times
her suffering heart is soaked in tears
it comes to a point when she cries without tears,
because, she loves without questions asked
she loves without complaining
because,
a mother's love is unconditional
a mother's love is an ocean...unfathomable

A mother's grieving heart could sometimes be blind,
in denial...cold...stubborn, in her non-acceptance,
though weary, she appears to be indefatigable,
never surrenders
even as she tries to walk on the water
even as she tries to walk, amidst the crowd...

(December 24, 2014)



Sally


Copyright December 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

(10w x 6)

Grass hurls back raindrops
as wet soil clings to feet

rain no longer pours
gray disappears
sky turns pale cerulean

eyes journey, to where soft
colors make a heavenly arch

telling of zephyr
a bit of sun
rains, on hold

i wind over...close my eyes
unicorn's music
is
soporific

"somewhere
    over
      the
      rainbow

         blue birds fly
                          
      ............................­........

      ....... why can't i.".......
                          

Sally

Copyright July 11, 2015
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

(a repost from 2014...edited)


I AM GRATEFUL---
for having my family
they are safe and healthy
we have roof over our heads and
clothes to keep us warm
there is always food on our table...

I AM GRATEFUL, THAT ---
on each new day,  i am able to
get up, alone...without much effort
can wash my face, brush my teeth,
clean my bathroom regularly
take a shower on my own
cook what i want to eat,
eat alone...
change the curtains in my bedroom
change my bedsheets without help,
as often as i want to...

I AM GRATEFUL THAT I ---
still celebrated another birthday
will still be able to say THANK YOU!
with family and friends on Thanksgiving day
make scary decors for Halloween
deck our house with a tree and lanterns before December
hung stars, angels in corners and in between
am strong enough to put them all away when Christmas is over...


I AM GRATEFUL I AM STILL---
able to witness
how a night of fireworks and celebrations
easily segues into a day of new beginnings...


I AM GRATEFUL THAT I CAN WRITE---
share my thoughts, my moments,
look back to the past with a smile,
find contentment where i am now,
still look forward to my future,
wake up to each new day
and another.......and
another.....and
another...
and
A N O T H E R .


Thanksgiving must come with every breath
For we are showered with Blessings without end...


Sally

Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

    
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
#blessings   #gratitude   #thanksgiving   #celebrations

We worked hard for these plans for so long
these dreams, we feel, could never go wrong
we have given them our all...they are nearly done,
but, "nearly" doesn't mean it's been won
deep inside, we keep alive their  essence
and we choose to stretch our patience...

We wait...

Notes have yet to be written on the bars
the tunes seem to be playing among the stars
lyrics are springing back and forth
"pen-rubber-pen," is a cycle that can't be fought
they are songs taking too long to be sung
in the air, they fly, like arrows being slung
in spaces too far flung...

We sit on the edge, while waiting...

They are verses that falter
have yet to make it on white paper
altered thoughts, words displaced
lines, here and there...disorganized
hanging...
with unknown endings
work is pending
we desperately seek for the missing element
to come up with meaty, meaningful contents...

We console ourselves, and say, "maybe later..."

They are faces that hide
there, at the back of our minds
smiling at us in our darkest hours
they make us cry, laugh, turn our moods so dour
keeping us company twenty-four/seven,
we fervently wish, the odds would become even
yes...we long for their physical presence
but....it can't...it just doesn't...happen!
they keep stalling
courage could be waning...

It is hard to comprehend why...we're still willing to wait.

When most days of life have passed
and while waiting, we breathe our last,
our songs, our meandering loves, our dreams,
our long written poems with scattered themes,
like shredded paper, shall go with the final heave of our chests
fly away, flee to the open spaces...to find rest,
and, after wandering all over...they would then settle down
to finally become the color of the ground.

One day,  things would fit into their proper places,
people will wear smiles on their faces
nothing would seem to be wrong
the air would be filled with songs
from new lives, new loves...risen from the fall
from life's cycle....these unknowing souls
their palms, with lines and colors, much brighter
they could be luckier
they have better chances...they show more courage
the wind brings good fortune, they now have the edge...

How are they to know, their most desired aspirations
used to be other people's inspirations
in the past generations?
their dreams realized had once been,
Things that were not meant to be.


Sally


Copyright JUNE 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

In a rare moment of serenity,
Is where I suddenly find myself.
Unusually, no one seems interested
In whatever I am busy with.
I am finally alone....by the sea...
I sit back on my chaise lounge, I close my eyes.

The music of the wind blowing
Sends me drifting.....
Takes me to a secluded place.
In its midst stands a big house,
Its high concrete walls, impenetrable,
Like those of a castle,
With all its trappings and imperfections.

Upon its portals, I hesitated....then stopped.
They were all so familiar,
The house, the door, the windows,
The curtains, too....
My stomach started acting up...
I was sweating  as I remembered...
It was where I once lived,
A life full of restrictions...
Imprisoned was I
Within its walls of silence...

Filled with dread,
I quickly gasped for air...
All set to flee from those cold scary walls
That terrified me so....
I turned to run,
But I couldn't take the first step,
My feet were frozen, like those of a statue.........
I couldn't move at all, when.....

Suddenly,
Thunder roared, lightning flashed...
A strong wind blew, and the rains came
At the same time...
Raindrops and some dry leaves
Started falling on my face,
Like confetti from above....
They tickled my nose, and
I sneezed back to reality,
Away from that nightmare of long ago...

I blinked a few times as
A wave splashed against the shore, and
Brought a taste of salt to my lips.
My past, these new beginnings and
Second chances that surround me now.....
All these things made me realize that
Nothing stays forever.....
Permanent is not at all permanent.....
Only GOD is........


I am now calm as the sea in summer....
Still alone....undisturbed....
In a rare moment of serenity....

Sally


Copyright 2013
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

(for Piedad)

Us being sisters,
Oftentimes gave me the jitters.
I was down here, while you were high up there,
I feared, I would find myself nowhere.

We made our own selfish choices,
Our actions louder than our voices.
I watched you from a distance,
It hurt to just give you a glance.

I felt a wall standing tall between us
In silence, I decided not to fuss...
Then I saw you break free from your balloon,
Reaching for the stars...maybe the moon…….
I prayed, then whispered,  "Go, wherever your stars may lead you
No matter how far, your dreams are long overdue."

Sally


Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

The WORLD is a poem...

Upon waking up on each new day,
you face a variety of views, of people,
animals, things, events or scenes...
They start to unfold before you,
they capture your eyes and
stimulate your imagination.
It could be a spectacle, a tearjerker,
sometimes, an eyesore...
from the nearest place,
right there in your garden,
reaching out to the farthest in sight...

A rose is a poem in itself,
from its leaves, down to its roots,
to the colors that adorn its whole being
even the thorns on its tough stem
have messages to relay
they are loud verses themselves...

The birds by the trees that greet you
early in the morning,
the geese, always in a huddle,
chatting, honking with the others,
near or far from the water,
those who stray further,
waddle by the nearest puddle,
seemingly interested at first sight of a human being...

The lonely eyed cats and dogs on the streets,
with no roofs on their heads, rain or shine,
just like the homeless people, the street children,
there's a lot to read from their faces..

An after breakfast walk
could take you to the streams ...
walk further and you see the bigger seas,
roam your eyes, to reach those hills and plateaus
all have hidden stories to tell...

The seasons of the year,
slowly shifting from one to the next,
they make themselves known to you
through the changing colors of the leaves,
the hibernation of some animals, the naked trees,
much more of God's miracles are revealed,
abounding,
amidst your surroundings,
just open your eyes...

The sun, the moon and the stars
the comets and meteors flashing across
a firmament of blue or charcoal black,
give you so much to wonder about...
they, too, are sources of rhymes,
they are a flowing spring
of vital informations
Teeming with inspirations...

Morbid, scary thoughts accompany
a cold coffin, but
maybe a chest of drawers,
an overloaded bag, a blender,
a faded and dilapidated chair, a table,
or the old but firm toothbrush
could generate a lot of positive thoughts...
Even a whole kitchen
would speak if it could,
you just have to pause and see,
feel, listen to what they express
in their silence...

Those bridges you cross
sometimes by car, other times, by foot,
they connect you to distant friends, relatives
or people you've never met, never seen
people who are deprived, abused,
hungry, even killed...
bridges take you to places where a battle is
about to start, or already raging,
where help is needed...but never given...
bridges are brimming with events to share,
they would have spoken...
but they could not,
it is up to you to be sensitive enough
you must be aware, you must know...

Every thing, every one on earth
has a message to impart
All of you are to be their voices...

You should be most grateful,
and love this WORLD you live in
it is a most precious gift from GOD,
You should all be one in saving the source,
a great volume of verses:
this universe....

Save me, now...
I am your poem,
I am the WORLD.



Sally

Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

in the balcony one late afternoon
i saw a mossed cypress tree, with
curved and drooping branches
a shield from the glaring rays of the sun
at noontime, i realized it was
i sat on the wooden lounge chair
as my mind started reeling
brimming with words and lines
stimulated by the ambiance
provided, surrounded by the
picturesque views....but i
suddenly thought of a distant friend
a good soul, a good friend
i miss Cheryl, my friend
she would have loved to be here
in this seaside village,
for some time off, to mix her colors
paint something from the sea
a touch of Neptune's world, maybe
for her poems to write.....
some fresh air, walks any minute of the day
so worries and fears and uncertainties
may vanish, evaporate
like bubbles dissipate
.....into thin air.....


Sally



Copyright 2013
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

Early morning now, at the veranda...
Doing people-watching,
Thinking...just thinking the hours away.
The calendar is on its final page...
In a matter of hours, it is set to be changed...
A new year is coming in shortly, and I am
Wondering  about the days gone by...

I sit comfortably
And my thoughts are set free...
Almost sets me dreaming
With you, rocking...
My hands, sidewards dropping...
But i see a line of several pairs of shoes,
Different sizes, different uses...
Five pairs of shoes remind me,
Of days when a baby's cry echoed,
Made its voice known,
Heard in the still of the night,
Up to the hours of the wee morning.
To and fro we went,
Up, down, down and up...
Until the baby fell into  a deep sleep, and
You and i, slowed, then stopped...

Over and over
We went through the very same routines,
The years stretched on as i counted,
It was four more, to be exact...

Then came the time when
There were just the two of us left,
Swaying to and fro, slowly, slowly,
Up, down, down and up...
Always slowly, never too fast.
No, i wasn't asleep,
Just  recalling,
How we had patiently, gently,
Cared and cradled
Those five baby girls to sleep...
Of different ages, all grown ups now...
Up and about, no longer wanting
To be swayed to sleep again...
Now, like birds that leave their nests
In the morning,
To live their lives in the light of day
Then fly back home before dark, weary,
Owners of these pairs of shoes,
Lined in a row, all in varying hues...

We both worked hard through the years,
I think it's time we thought of ourselves...
I say, you rock me now an hour of nonstop rest,
Then let me "rock the boat" for a while,
Turn you upside down,
Caress your arms and feet
With a soft cotton cloth and some lotion,
Make you shine like before, and free you
From those grains of dirt embedded,
To sharpen your sturdy undercurves,
So we may both have fun once more...
Rock ourselves slowly, smoothly,
Swaying endlessly,
Enjoying, rocking
Our remaining days together...


Sally

Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

Up
The tree of the sweetsop
I see
Raindrops
Sliding down...to the leaves
Of the Fortune tree
Drip-dropping,
Straight falling
Splashing
Down
The
Graveled garden

From up
The tree of the sweetsop
There's rain,
Dropping now on my hands
We are connecting
Feeling
The union of
Cold and warm
Tears from the sky touching my skin
Never, never to be lukewarm
Towards
A presence-
And in its absence
Persists a longing.
Crystal, silvery droplets
I try to capture inside my palms
I would drink them, if possible
Make them stay in my system
Never to depart from me
As long as i can,
Lest they drop and be
Scattered
Disintegrate
Like molecules
On the
Graveled garden.



Sally

Copyright September 10, 2015
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

(Java Jibe)

This  night is very different.
It is young
The moon is out there...in full view,
But it's like there is no moon,
It is dull, it doesn't glow,
Looks like a paper moon.

An empty corner meets my eyes.
Window is closed...door is ajar,
Posts...ceilings...walls...all are naked,
White...unmoving...lifeless.

I sigh,
But, a sigh is just a sigh,
Not encouraging in this piercing cold,
I find no help offered.

...just a plate to my left---with stuff..

I take a sip,
A *******, I dip...
Maybe, I could bite a tip
Or...a drip
From the dip,
Again, more sips...
This time, no more dips...
()
()
()
Mind is now deeply dipped,
W a i t i n g...with the hands
F l e x i n g.....ah, I'm
T r y i n g...to capture them now,
Stop these kites from flying
Away, out of my brain, fleeing...
This moment......I now seize,
Will stretch it to long hours, into a night of bliss,
My hot, strong, bitter drink always helps me clear the way,
The boulder, is now fragmented...crushed,
Pushed further away, to flow towards a lazy, lethargic river.  

It matters not to me,
Could be a poem or a ditty
This is a supernal moment
When ideas so potent
Like tap water, flows with no end.

This is one of those nights
When I would fall, then rise again, and take flight
Reviving inspirations to a glowing height
One moment I can't let go...I am in a JAVA JIBE
Oh, I've never been so A L I V E !

1/3/15

Sally

Copyright 2015
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan