(10W X 6)

I rush,
wherever...
....whenever...
.......however...
N O T H I N G
stops me
.....except
:::::GOD:::::  

I move
.....through surfaces,
N O T H I N G
holds me still.
.....except
:::::GOD:::::

I find ways
to nurture life,
so others may live:::::

I EXPLODE,
.....claim lives, too...
N O B O D Y
......stops me
.....except
:::::GOD:::::

N O     O N E
.....can walk
.........over me
.....without
.........sinking
.....except
:::::GOD:::::

I couldn't
~~~have been
~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~
~~ w a t e r ~~
~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~
if it weren't for
:::::GOD:::::


Sally

Copyright March 27, 2016
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

.....dark and bitter.......it delights me
.........to watch...as rich cream
......invades the dark brown stream
......while rises....a shy, white steam

they fight in beautiful swirls,
the dark, against lighter twirls
teaspoon dips...as tiny drops hurl
....teaspoon moves clockwise,
......others do it counter clockwise...
....the swirls persevere, they stick it  out,
eventually, they merge, and.......even out...

...lovely autumn colors they create
...a sweet, calming scent permeates
...my nostrils....my mind...my soul,
...i close my eyes, when i want to stall
  .... its smell wakes me...keeps me from a fall...

i'm always captured by their bubbly tawny color
so, i drink both black and creamed....yes...i'm a lover
still, i prefer my coffee.........dark and bitter....


Sally


Copyright September 28, 2016
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

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

Earth days are a mix
moments may be dim...eclipsed,
rays are speared....ellipsed...

Sally

Copyright April 11, 2017
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

NIGHT HAIKUS





Dew-laden grass bend,
misty air touches warm skin,
…..a tranquil evening.

Cool night breeze blows…’pon
scintillas of light..….fireflies,
on blue starry night!

Cuppa tea…on palm,
tired body and mind succumb,
bed calls....night is calm.


sally b

©Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
July 30, 2022

#night #haikus

Life is a pliable mold
Made up of stories,  told and untold
Some songs and poems are spoken
With no vocal chords...uttered in silence
Brave moments then, may have elevated
Us....but, some demons remain unconquered...
::::::
Life is aggravated by unshared memories
And unforgotten reveries...
True, there're things that can't be undone
Still....we maintain a long list of "uns"
And..."should've been done,"
They're like some old shoes, kept, and yet to be worn..

We can re-shape our future...start with an open mind
Change may mean progress, the future may be kind
This time...give space, so new strength may be born
So that those old shoes, gets a chance to be worn...


Sally

Copyright December 7, 2016
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

Last night,
my thoughts were  of the coming days
i got up even before dawn
preparing to face tomorrow.

everything about tomorrow
is on the table...like a briefing on what to
expect...souls awaiting...sunny, stormy days
newly sprouted worries, and old ones that
refuse to go...food talks...pride...errands,
the good and the bad...everything,
all arranged on a platter.
it's like reading a big book...filled with
nows...yesterdays...and tomorrows..
thick with pages that turn fast, or slow,
pages that are bright, unwrinkled,
others are flapping...twisted, crumpled,
even torn......depending on the wind,
which could be breezy...or gusty.

some pages bring long-lasting smiles
some are too wet with tears
some cause a blink...once, twice, or thrice;
a brief way of escaping...yet,
truths are there when eyes open again.

we ponder over the pages skipped,
for clarity...for closure...not for turning back
there's no other way.......but ahead...
....like the wide and endless freeway,
painted lines divide lanes...define direction
...explaining continuity...moving forward,
no matter what.......because,
tomorrow
always comes

>>>>> ::: >>>>> ::: >>>>> ::: >>>>>



Sally

Copyright January 8, 2018
rrab

It's a space within a space, where
all are transparent...i am myself.

On two layers of shelves on a wall,
a dictionary and a thesaurus,
share space with what seems like
an heirloom of books, old and new:
Gibran, Dylan Thomas, Dickinson,
Bronte, P. B. Shelley, Jane Eyre,
Hosseini, few Ludlum oldies, etc...

Here, a blending of the tangible and
the intangible is present, like habits
and thoughts that don't, and can't die,
stuffs that've endured the years: old
unposted poems with scribbled notes,
faded photos in sepia...faded jeans;
a bed that awaits fatigued body and
mind on toxic days, and becomes a
desk to write on...when needed.

It's not as though nothing's awry,
imperfections are seen by the eyes,
some details may not be precise
in this accepted clutter of daily goings-
on...of feelings...of some undoings
that interrupt and are mingling
with enigmas flashing up the ceiling;
lost shoe-laces wander, and go hiding
among indispensable habits and things,
kept...retained, like a hanging purse,
grabbed, when a sudden trip occurs.

It's hot and cold in this ***** place,
it's cozy, my neatly-cluttered space.



sally b

Rosalia Rosrio A. Bayan
March 24, 2022

🎉😷⛈⚡️🌕🍷🎂🍨🕊

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

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

so...HAPPY BIRTHDAY
to all of us, regardless of
the dates of our birth...
what matters most is that,
despite all bad...there is good,
and if we still choose...to live,
we shall survive...
🕊
PEACE
TO
ALL!


Sally

Copyright Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
October 1, 2020

(10W X 2)


Y o u ' r e
A name...a face,
L e T t E r S
An enigma???
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
My  lullaby
~ ~ ~ ~
~ ~ ~
~ ~
~

I ' m
Upright
Curved
Stretched
Reaching
Holding
Back.
I'm
Your
A r a b e s q u e.




Sally

Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

...the dusty road, wearing a sombrero,
i saw a chained monkey in the middle of
the road...under the heat of the sun,
its eyes seemed numbed, as visitors
gifted it with bananas and other foods...
was the monkey bored?
tired of watching people come and go?
day in, day out?
what if it rains? it has no roof above its head...
where does it sleep?

i wondered why, from the door jamb
where i stood, there exists
another door, smaller upon sight,
and another...and another...and another....
i was accosted by an endless series of doors...
what lies at the end?
is there an end to these succession of doors?
what could be its purpose?
i wondered about that reason....

i wondered...why the pathways
ahead, left side, and right,
involved going high, then low,
so you go up, then down...
you get used to its rhythm,
to the  practice of going up, then down,
holding your breath,
grasping for a post to hold on to,
if and when you lose your balance...
you assume on what is to follow,
you are about to take a step forward
and you'll be surprised....your next step,
...............could be fatal....
you would expect a set of steps going down...
but, there are none...you're inches away
from the end of the ledge.....you stare
at the ground....from where you stand
......there's nothing there
........just an assumed fall..
............if you had been a fool...

these temples, with countless, endless
steps and doors, radiate with wisdom,
offered to us...right in front of our faces..
we just have to be keen...be perceptive...
be able to discover...and learn, before a fall
occurs...

i walked away from these walls and stairs,
tired...sweating...my knees aching......but,
with my wonderings............waning......


Sally

Copyright January 31, 2017
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

I
felt
maybe
I had lost
you, the very
same  time  your
messages vanished.
T'was like an O M E N,
that very same time...you
d i s a p p e a r e d,  without
a word. .........How do i tell you,
better i lost you, now...f o r e v e r 
how do i tell you...............never come
back to me----now, later, just stay away 
FOREVER.......Stop these  sLOw   moving 
moments.........I don't need more tormenting 
thoughts................no more strain, no more pain 
for my bleeding....broken heart..........pinned down
lower, by your COLD SILENCE, and INDIFFERENCE.
How do I tell you...............................I'll be fine without you?

Sally

Copyright  2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

(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

A quick passing of a faint sound...reached my ear
A whisper of a whimper
Floated...in the silence of the midnight's atmosphere
Over coffee...i listened harder,
One minute, it was there
The next moment...it was gone

Morning quickly came
But, it just wasn't the same
Before noon was over,
The "weirdly quiet" backyard
Became crazy...with activities...

The whimpering started again....then stopped,
Followed by tiny whining voices
My pet's eyes were so alert...her looks shifting
From one pinkish creature to the other(s)
Like...she was doing the counting, herself...

Last time i looked, there were only three,
But, then...three became five!
Apart from Larry, Curly and Moe
I  need two more names.....
No, wait! I need three more, for
I now see six white, squirming square-faced puppies!

If i had things my way
My backyard would extend further, wider....i'd
have eight dogs, a mix of labradors and retrievers
An all female band...to  roam and guard the place
So that my pet dog, wouldn't have to be
As big and heavy as a pregnant ewe
Never again to suffer....the pain of giving birth to six puppies
Never again to whimper, in the stillness of one dark midnight...


Sally


Copyright April 10, 2016
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

A white egret, slowly treads on marshy land...picking food
unafraid, beside a big carabao that munches  grass...

...the tall reeds grow on their own, along riverbanks
........or on wide, unattended, sodden areas
no barbed wires control them from leaning, or sagging
they sway........where the wind goes.

Butterflies, dragonflies, birds
and bees in bright colors, hop on open blossoms
feasting on ripe seeds, nectar, and pollen grains.

and i, am wandering, flying, with these creatures,
perching on top of stalks.....even on carabaos' backs...
i am out there, in the open...swaying with the reeds
while dreams and inspirations spill over.
my mind roams free...no reins, no bounds,
above, and  below....or, even sideways,
i inch, and feel my way
through the breathing,
...and the non-breathing...

i am a poet...i write what i feel...what comes to my mind
i follow rules set before me...though, i have
my own existing rules  inside me...born with me
an innate knowledge of my limitations
as a person, as a parent, as a writer;
what should...and what shouldn't be,
what to reveal...and what to conceal,
how it is to be compassionate...and
how it is to be indifferent.

i am a poet, still hearing my late mother's voice,
emphasizing..."amor propio" and "delicadeza."

an  invisible *** of fresh yellow daffodils,
lives on in my mind...a discretion ingrained in me
a kind of freedom, i opened my eyes to....


Sally

Copyright September 20, 2016
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

I saw...
a huge, open space, arrayed  with pink and
yellow roses and zinnias...there were benches
under trees that  stretched towards a lagoon,
for those gone weary, from their walks...

I saw...
a family...children were playing
on the green, lush carpet grass,
dressed in their bright-colored clothes
of red and yellow,  and blue jeans...
confidently hopping, and tumbling
wearing expensive rubber shoes...while
having bites of sandwiches, and sips of juices...
from a safe distance, seated on a bench, were
the overseers...the parents...as two nannies
kept close watch over the children.......

I saw...
a group of noisy children come in from the streets
running barefooted, feeling the cool, moist grass...
some refused to remove their rubber slippers,
their clothes were old and tattered...too excited,
they jumped.....lay on the grass without a care,
they shrieked, as they climbed and fell from slides,
obviously enjoying their visit....their shouts, their
laughter seemed contagious, the well-endowed
children, stopped their games and observed...

I saw...
how the parents summoned the nannies,
they gathered the children, and all their stuff
then marched towards a less peopled area,
and there, they let their children play....while
they sat on a nearby bench, pulled long sighs,
one after the other...i wondered...were they
exhausted?  or, pricked by their conscience?
were they sighs of relief.......because their
children were now distanced......."safe,"
......from the less fortunate ones?
:::::::::
whatever happened to  noblesse oblige?
are these just two foreign words,
with obsolete meanings?
::::::::::::::


Sally

Copyright March 9, 2017
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

you are the great, gray sky above me...

between us,

           the deadly smoke rising...

soon,

     your gray clouds
            
         would be too heavy...

          you drop your black rain...

       ~~~~~i, am the sea~~~~~
        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
            ~~~~~~~~~­~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

       S a l l y

         Copyright 2013
            Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

Wind blows...trees quiver
Dry leaves disconnect...fall, and
Fly by the window

Some cling to the glass
Some get blown farther away
Ground is wet, but brown

Fine shower falls on
Coffee with RumChata waits
It's cold at the porch...


Sally


Copyright November 29, 2016
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

Why do i think of us, in colors of flames so red....on a day so somber?
I see ***** of fire, they dance against a pool of blue,  tranquil water
The red now turns to a yellow tangerine, like smouldering ember
And flames are definitely reaching up, soaring, higher, higher
With hints of orange, then on to a deep yellow, like amber.
Bright lively orange could only be our burning desire
-----------------whether in the summer-------------------
-------or, in the cold days of December--------
---MAGICAL, every moment of fi-re ---
every coo, every whisper, so tender
day and night.....year after year
rain, sun, wind, any weather
we must try not to falter
let our fiery colors
N E V E R
end
up
a
dying
E M B E R.
-----------------------
----------------------------
---------­------------------------

Sally

Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"...go to hell, purloiners!
you breached my trust...my privacy,
both, are sacred to me...
what about you?
...is anything at all sacred to you?"
:::
:::::
:::::::
It's been
three days and more,
of crossing fears...thinking,
how easily......and suddenly...
one's precious worded gems,
could be exposed to strangers' eyes...
to think that private thoughts can
no longer be private, is infuriating...
how does one deal with violated privacy?
i'm ailing...while drowning in dim streams
.....all assurances, now disputed
all negative possibilities considered
i'm paranoid...the devil is winning...

the stomach sympathizes
with a disconcerted mind
growling its discontent
creating deleterious acids...

mad, upsetting hours stay for a while
holes must be mended or patched...
what was disorganized ...must be straightened
got to start from scratch

these past evenings, i trod
through hot valleys bright with fire
burning with anger and disgust
...for, i felt betrayed,
never have i been this way before,

.....i must go back to the water.....

slowly............i wait,
'til i can look past those trees,
those walls....those worlds outside, and
from them, create a swinging hammock
tied on two coconut trees~~~then
feel a mist from a not so far clear, blue ocean
feel the breeze whisper its magic spell
to cool and melt the fires within
be at peace with everyone
with everything...

i must take hold of that space
where i'll float...and i'll forget
where i'll toy with the ripples
and be overcome
with
~~~~moments of zen~~~



Sally

(Empty Gaze)





It was a journey, unwanted
you should've been with me, instead
i walked behind you
i sat beside you
not one bit did you care,
impenetrable, was your stare
i got dizzy from turning around
and ended in front of you, on the same ground.

your catatonic eyes, i sought    
your disconnected gaze, i  fought,
i waited, calmly
patiently,
stood there longer...your hand, i was scared to touch
you could've hopped, traipsed, dreamed too much
and i...could've been lost, in your world, on that old cold couch
our very own faded green couch....where, suddenly
unexpectedly
your eyes blinked and appeared startled
they seemed to have awakened
and challenged my stare
a frown surfaced
then a smile...brightened your face.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
oh, the fear is so great
an empty gaze must never again take place!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

you are now with me
next to me....the closest we can be
I feel the wind of your breath,
Your pulse, your heart beating
no more gaps, or spaces to keep us apart
our hands hold tight
bodies, softly pressed
as  we now lay together...
you hug me tight, i know you feel much safer
i hug you back...tighter  
i feel much, much better,
cause i'm now holding you...i've got you home,
we are both sheltered...in each other's warmth,
it matters not...we could lie, sit, or slouch,
the two of us...comfortably...in our own old couch.

It doesn't matter to me
where you had been

I'm begging......praying
no more empty gazes would occur
to part us............once more.




Sally

Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

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

(People Alone)


Maybe 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...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 remedy even a bit....when
my hands are not that long to reach out.
...........................................
then, i think of people who live alone,
their thoughts...their predicaments.
there are those who enjoy and
progress in their solitude....then there
are those who are given no choice,
forced.......or suddenly found themselves
in that space....souls that cope with consequences,
alone at nights...while their frustrations
breathe on them...and stare back at them.

some end up too absorbed
in their own darkness.
........................................
those lovely night falls...those resplendent
moon-glowed nights, are joined...stained
by silent lamentations.....muffled cries,
yet...playing loud as thunder,
in the high open air...
.........................................
moments of hiding and seeking linger on,
they try to seek some fun,
yet, their ghosts, make them run,
whether in the dark, or under the bright sun.
weary eyelids become heavy, like those of a swan
sleep teases like evil...a bit of painful memory, and it's gone
...one's night is done...
..........................................
and, i realize
as i think along these lines,
my worries are just pebbles, not big stones
like theirs that whir,
over and over,
like a drone.
........................
whether with company, or on their own
they are people alone...


Sally

Copyright October 24, 2017
rrab

(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

Consciences disallow,

Morals dictate,

:::::::::::::::::::
Crossing of

Paths,
:::::::::::::::::::

Must

Never

Be...

:::::::

Sally

Copyright 2013
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

I have yet to hear
The echo of your voice....
I could sense a lilt in your laughter....
Or maybe in how you  clear your throat...
It won't matter to me
If you sing off-key...
I just want to hear your voice.

I have yet to see
The radiance of your smile,
Your face, your eyes....
Maybe your whole being ...
Could fill up
This emptiness within me.

I have yet to feel
Your presence, your strength...
Your warmth, your true feelings for me.
Would you cry with me when I'm sad?
Hold me when I need to be held?
Would you give me space
When I need to be alone?

And yet,
I feel I know you so well...
Well enough that my worries
Are crushed by my good vibes about you
Maybe...
the secret lies not in you,
But in my mind-----
In my dreams, I see
What my mind tells me....
My inner self confirms it....
In every part of you, I see
..............MAGIC.............
And why is it that I feel...
How is it that I know.......
That for always....
I shall be under your spell.....

Sally


Copyright 2013
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

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

Last year,
september was dressed with fears
angsty, was october,
november, cold, with a longing to be back
december showed a lively palette of colors,
yet worked with
january, in facing moments of truth...

last sunday started beautiful...but it turned horrible
as explosions took some lives, and injured many...

yesterday, monday was a lovely...cool day,
brimming with apprehension, but
the end of the day was pink-happy, with content
i met some true friends

today, tuesday, is another day to face
tons of things to do and to finish
...but i am looking forward to twilight,
when i recall today's events...

days and nights are a potpourri of yellows
and grays...of accomplishments, and failures
of expectations...fulfilling...and frustrating...
we try to forget...but they are indelible
they persist, they echo back,
.
just like,
my pixie cut brownish hair...the dye,
persist...pushed further down by
undeniable years...manifested by the gray
blending below, with the true color of my hair...

...c'est la vie....

Sally

© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
    January 29, 2019

(10 w x 9)


A glass of wine waits
beside a tureen,
..............where soup
......................

~~~~~

with twisted noodles
of choices
and reluctance
is
slowly simmering.

~~~

there's no fire,
yet,
ladle goes on,
stirring within
........amidst

~

quivers...
rivers of fear
..........of paths
circumstances may lead to...

~~~

to stagnate?
or rise from inner swamp?
::::: a recurring
dilemma

::::::::::

losing
people...things
most loved,
derails intentions,
w
  e
a
  k
    e  n
           s
     existing wall...

~~~

faces...voices,
wisdom gained,
all reside in
one's comfort zone

****
to move on,
or stall?
when?
tomorrow?

no!

not...yet...

****

doi­ng    n o t h i n g,
this humid evening
just swimming
~
~~~
~~~~~
in dark
waters.

~~~~~
~~~
~



Sally

Copyright May 31, 2015
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

My breath smells of coffee....
Several cups
I have finished already.
This is one of those nights,
When my thoughts I have yet
To turn into verses....
They are all too shy to come out,
Refusing still, to be revealed.
While I wait for the empty cups to be refilled,
A lonely moth circles the lamp and me.
On and on, I tap my pen on the table,
Til I've scribbled something on  paper.
Still, the moth goes round and round,
Circling my face, very near my mouth.
The light flickers as it wanders near...
I wonder if it's the lamplight that calls
To the moth
Or, is it my breath that smells of coffee...

Sally


Copyright 2013
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

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

you can stand up for me,
prove my intentions right
when i'm not there...and being stabbed at the back-
when  i am outnumbered, being silenced
stand by me, to prop me from falling
help me rise, when i'm already down-
stand beside me...be with me...hold my elbow
hold my hand, put your arm around me
for more confidence, because i am in doubt-
stand behind me, if you must
to ensure my safety...once in a while
touch my hand from my back, to let me know
you're still there, watching...waiting for me-

would love for you to stand in front of me
to make sure i'm headed the right way
on days i am so lost
hold my hand
to guide me
reassure me
but, not
to
control
me.


Sally


Copyright August 28, 2015
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan




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

It is eight o'clock, after dinner...
Only distant stars adorn a blue-black moonless sky
Quiet evening, no voices screaming,
No vendors calling...
Not one nocturnal sound, to prove the night's existence
I hear numbered footfalls above, 
A slightly, heavy weight, presses on the fiberglass roofing
Silently informing, 
Very careful not to startle me with the roof creaking
I am not scared of its presence, for it knows...
This is me...I do not fuss, I do not bellow
There is no one else, it is only me it always follows,
Hidden in the dark, on me it never lurks...
A welcome cloaked friend, this stray cat in the shadows...


}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}­}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}

Sally

Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

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

(Black Tide)

🌒
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
My finger touches water...imagining,
tracing...the contours of a face,
eyes...hair...they undulate on the
wavy mirrors of the water, reeling
on the blue luster of the rising tide,
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
shimmering streaks, reflecting
splotches, as sun rays are waning,
~~~~~this late afternoon.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
i stay, unflinching, un-intimidated
by the lapping waves, violently
caressing the sandy shore.
~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
🌒
The dimming sky blurs
your sketch into an enigma,
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Your hair, your face are vanishing
leaving your open eyes, glimpsing
around, glinting like silver, through
the rhythmic ebbing and flowing
of the now black tide.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
November sky's an undaunting view
.......as firm as dark navy blue,
a few stars in sight,
la lune is still queen of the night,
so determined in her scant glow 🌒
~~~telling me, it's time to go,
~~~to live through this night,
then, face a new sunrise 🌕
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~
~~~
(#silly love poem)


sally b


© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
October 17, 2017

It is somewhere in your face
You try so hard to hide it,
But it’s there…
In your actions,
It shines brightly
In your words,
I hear it loud and clear.

It has become a shaft of light,
Emitting a kind of brightness
Only I can understand
For time has honed
This perceptive mind……

It would have been better
If I had lost my memory,
I'd be free from anger and hate,
I wish I were wrong
I wish I were without a sight,
For then I won’t be able to see
The guilt that is all over you.


Sally




Copyright 2013
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

Awaiting a friend...
Wishing,
Praying,
He,
His
Poems
Soon
Reappear.

(Where art thou, Soul? Hope all is well...)

Sally

Copyright 2013
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

(10w)

.....all my cysts
  ................of brokenness
..............................i'm glad,
             ........................................they're all benign...


Sally

Copyright February 14, 2016
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

...

I say, it's a blending of many colors, pale and bold
not all beginnings are really green and gold
others begin with hazelwood...grayish, almost pale
freshens up, when the winds are in one's sails
things turn green with aspirations...
golden.....when ripe with expectations
going brighter, like red-yellow flames, in a live kiln,
fueled, fiery confidence...burning within.

Middle parts are the most illuminated ones
the brightest hours...of afternoon sun...
could be radiant yellow...perchance, tangerine,
shifting to burnt orange...a bronzed sky...when
perspectives change..and feisty fellows start to mellow
blaring red turns coffee brown...fading colors follow,
we don't want it, but gloom visits ...trailed by fears
all become pale, when days get doused with tears.

Endings are often called, night...or dusk
horizons could be stilled, shaded gray, or black,
darkened even more by impatience and waiting...tedium
dehydrates the body and soul....ending up consumed,
others look up to a starry sky, denim, or indigo blue,
anxious with a coming.....twilight? or gray morning?
that day, when some go to a blood red sea...seething,
where unforgiving, indifferent winds are the ones blowing
where many voices bellow...begging, but in vain.
for some, dark magically turns to a blinding sun,
when it's time for them...to cross over,
the other side beckons...waiting, is finally over.



Sally

Copyright July 9, 2016
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

when so many questions arise
and answers are hard to find
come these two words
few and yet, sufficient, satisfying.

so often wondered
why it was called
the wisdom of the children
for how could the so young
acquire such insight.

you've reasoned hard
pondering the puzzles, riddles
that demand answers
but none arrive.
one remembers those
two words, wise and simple
from the wise and the simple:

"J u s t  B e c a u s e..."


Sally

Copyright 2013
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

🕊🕊🕊🕊🕊🌹💐🌷


Doves and roses are sought
when hurtful, tempestuous thoughts
flood and create lumps in the throat,
the urge...the surge grow stronger,
much to write...we grab pen...paper,
suddenly......we are "there,"
in that comfortable nook...where,

We create fictional love scenes,
or...relive tremulous experiences
of blazing lava flows, souls despondent
driven by disastrous rains, by discontent,
or, of souls cherishing rare times, serene,
a lake, warm sun...calm coffee moments;
all these become messages conveyed
they're the carbon dioxide we exhale;

Verses are afloat above our heads
until they're written.....and read.

Both old poets and newcomers
come up with stuff...funny or bizarre,
some readers relate...epiphanies occur.
isn't that what really matters?

No kings or queens in prose or poetry.
some came first, others came later.
surely, both want to write...to share.
in God's eyes, no one is above the other.

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

Copyright Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
November 27, 2023