(10W)

Love
            Lost
                     Took
                               Time
                                         Forgetting...

Suddenly---
                      Late
                               Summer
                                               Came
                                                           Knocking...


Sally

Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

Coming home from the mass,
body stretches became endless
no hurried showers were done
some returned to bed, everything
was on a slow pace....but then,
kitchen aromas roused sluggish senses,
revealed garlic and onion sauteing,
beef stewing, stuffed fish grilling,
even the smell of parched soil, being
sprinkled with water...became fragrant...
all rushed to the table...for lunch...
..............................................

dessert,­ was a choice...nothing...or,
slices of pie..fresh strawberries dipped
in condensed milk...peanuts, sour
chips, or salty tortillas, with salsa,
all these, over loud talks...whispers,
wholesome family conversations,
where endings are ever unpredictable
...............................................

ea­ch Sunday carries a different mood
...with cups of tea, or coffee, when
discussions are serious, long, hushed...
most times, they're a tall glass of sundae,
with shaved ice, sago, sweetened yam,
or, beans, milk, and sugar........
decisions made, and agreed upon
are the multi colored toppings,
pretty much like syrup.....or ice cream...
...................................................

sev­en days.....with different names...
each family member brings in a new shade
we do our best, to start, and end each day
................with pleasant airs
.................especially on Sundays,
......when families gather together...
..................................................


­Sally


Copyright March 26, 2017
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

(3:00 AM)


Just a few hours of sleep not a fiber of strength felt  in a body lying supine the mind so awake a rapid flow of rebelling ideas could not be contained thoughts quake needing a break in the dark of this 3am morning with the ipad providing light the body seems to languish in its own inertia only the chest rises and falls in silence behind the hills sunday dawn glows

Sally

Copyright October 1, 2017
rrab

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

Define me..........

a pebble? a shell, out of many?
the ocean, that never runs out of water?
a bud of pale pink rose? slowly opening its petals?
a tree, whose network of roots
spread wider...deeper, neath the ground?
am i the pristine water cascading down a waterfall?
a boulder in an isle? a seawall braving the stormy winds?
could i be a beacon, a lighthouse? high above the raging waters?
guiding those weary travelers, towards placid waters?
am i one of the various faces inside a quaint coffee shop?
like one i see right now, with unfocused eyes?
having a cup of fresh brew...waiting for someone...old? or new?


And you....who might you be?

a jazzy sway, a dip? a painting?  an instrumental tune?
are you the high and low of tide in june?
a story of lovers and sand dunes, that has no ending?
a haven for the homeless? a wall for the weak, those needing?
a kitten? a puppy? a bird, on a twig perching?
are you a voice in the night...calling me?
whispering my name to the wind?
is it you i hear singing, "The Long Run?"
did you come from Krypton? a falling star? a shooting star?
could you be one of the many faces inside a quaint coffee shop?
are you the one...with untainted smile headed towards me?
ahh, you're looking at my brew...you must be meeting someone too!
could we be, the you and me...the me and you?
who at this moment, are meant to have tea...for two?


Sally

Copyright September 1, 2015
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

..


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

(Secret Place)
(love poem# 2)


There's a very special place i know.....so calm,
so peaceful, with its Caribbean blue sky,
made bluer by light orange streaks...nearby,
a stream of silver water, flows gently...its tune
relaxes the mind, for, simultaneously, a breeze
blows softly...touches my face, arms, like a kiss,
a cold brush against my skin, that wakes, and
holds still, my wandering mind.....so i'd notice a
heavenly garden....with fragrant blossoms and
tamed colors, to soothe my weary eyes, my soul...
it is a haven so private...only for me, to go to...
yet... i see you there...where i hide my dreams,
my private feelings, my dark moments, my doubts,
my fears, my enlightened moments, you know them
all, spot on...without me telling you...we are mates,
you, me, we fit into place, in every space...even in the
small recesses, and holes of our souls, we silently agree,
doors i have long closed...feelings i've tossed in the dark,
you sensed them all............we...are two hands clasped...

this has become our secret haven, our sacred place,
here, where we surrender ourselves to each other,
here, where we share quiet moments all alone,
here, where started, and bloomed...a dawning,
here, where, all our eyes, all our hearts longed for,
we now behold....we now feel....we now embrace...


Sally


Copyright February 4, 2017
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

(of Angkor Wat)



Two years after, i still think of that
forest, where an old temple stands...
most structures are carved with intricate
designs and images...architecture was
influenced by their Khmer culture...

posts, frames and doors are stilled,
statues are tight-lipped, like frozen
witnesses...drowning in the voices
and noises of flocks of tourists,
reminding me of the noise and confusion
of my daily existence....in my own world..

i went up and down many stairs, went through
doors within doors, i lost count, while catching  
my breath, wondered why there were just door
frames............silent walls, old posts, and old
trees gave a cold feel of a distant past......yet,
in my mind, an aura of magic and mystery
hovered upon the entire temple...as if ghosts
of wisdom, and lots of stories lay dormant,
imprisoned......within the structures...

two summers and monsoon seasons passed,
my thoughts on Angkor Wat, haunt me still,
and bring back my thoughts on those doors;

some doors on our paths are closed shut,
some are ajar...some open easily, but are
ignored, or feared...some, close too soon,
before we make our first step to enter...
some stay open, yet, we become complacent,
some, have no closures or finality...leaves
one in limbo....
how will we know if it's the last one for us?
how many doors more...for you? for me?
does death give an end to life's entrances?
........or, is it just a beginning?


Sally
© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
January 2017

The sun has become harder to bear
this late April morning.....under
a perfect blue sky, the sun is bright as ever,
it slightly ****** the skin,
grass takes all the heat but is just as green
and still sways to the blowing wind...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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




Sally

Copyright Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
April 5, 2020

Across the house,
There's something going on
Sounds louder than ordinary
A discussion maybe
Exchanging views
They are shielded by the hanging leaves
Of a row of banana plants
Heads are bowing...then rising

Suddenly....a loud mix of sounds ...

A light wind blows, banana leaves sway
And the heads of those present spew
Angry meows,  
And arrrs,
And  hrrrs
And growls,
And grrrrs
And the enraged yelling of a human's voice
Overpower the soft, scared purring
In one corner...

Soon,
Inch by inch...
Three, four, striped stray cats, with a few kittens in tow
Distance  themselves
Away from a big, wide platter of food,
Being selfishly devoured
By two big mongrels, of brown and white...
The Feline Forum, supposed to be with free dinner,
Is over
Has just been disrupted
By unwanted visitors
Starving intruders that came by
This  early evening.

It is dusk...I see fire...I see both dogs
They're black as coal...fiery red-eyed...and triple-horned
Holding on to each of their tridents
I wish they'd go to hell....where they belong.


Sally


Copyright October 8. 2015
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

Five-thirty AM.
Hustle 'n bustle
b e g i n s....
........footfalls
running  u p
and  d o w n
the  stairway
......stomping
.......catching
..........fidgety
elevat­or........
...........voices
...r o a r i n g
s h o u t i n g
...c u r s i n g
.....f a l l i n g
......wavering
....an endless
........series of
..........sounds
..........scaring
......escalating
scaring   even
more.......then
slowing down
hushing..........
fading.............
....filling hours
....til footsteps
...............start
........returning.
Night  comes,
g­reeted, with
Tchaikovsky's
c o n c e r t o ,
bright  lamps,
muted sounds 
.......of spoons
forks....knives
against plates
...tingling dies
giving  way to
tea cups, wine
...........glasses.
........and when
dinner's done.
:::::::::::::::::::::::
when all are in,
when  all have
settled   down.
::::::::::::::::::::::::
n o i s e s........
....are no more,
~~~~~~~~~~
swallowed, by 
the spreading
........Dark.......
:::::::::::::::::::::::
Late nights.....
.....p e a c e.....
a  soft  silence
wall lamps are
mellow-lighted,
...some voices
loud.....others
vaguely heard,
some....fading
into..the..night.
:::::::::::::::::::::::
:­::::::::::::::::::::::
Shortly...........
the rush shall
re commence.
Those   heavy,
loud  footfalls
will    a g a i n
.......t e r r i f y
the old  ones, 
with  t h e i r
......fear of.....
:t h u n d e r:

Up.......down,
down.......up,
........nonstop
shaking........­
floors...........
........ceilings
down..........
..........belo­w.
::::::::::::::::::::::
::::::::::::::::::::::
The HALLWAY
....is a straight
Path, a  world,
With  its   own
Moments.....of
b l u e..s k i e s
.l i g h t n i n g.
..........and........
...r o a r i n g...
:t h u n d e r s:
::::::::::::::::::::::::


Sally

Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

(This was inspired by Pradip's comments on
      an old  poem  of mine,  "Anticipation."
          It's been a year since...and i still
             go back to that poem, to read
                his words.....to recall the
                    countless waitings i
                        went through in
                              my life.)


Pradip Chattopadhyay › Anticipation
Anticipation is such a perfect word Sally for the hopeful wait.
Let's hope we come out of it more resilient more humane.



THE HOPEFUL WAIT

We wait for something to
take place...desperately,
we count the days, the hours,
for a wish to materialize,

a small voice whispers
encourages us to hang on,
to not think of the waiting
as a difficulty,
like, a cross to bear,
because.....it is not...

the waiting time, the passing
hours, are journeys where
epiphanies unfold, and clarify
our dimmed perspectives.

while we wait, while battling
adversity and weariness,
we must make sure to fortify
our faith, our determination,
our patience, and not go the
opposite way...

some may not agree...but, there is
wisdom in what could be, where
none is certain...we see its beauty
when recalling the waiting.....life
teaches us to welcome, to embrace
the uncertainty....to trust the wait.

............
.........
.....


sally b

© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
  November 27, 20

Within the confines
of areas quarantined
people hold discussions,
hued with apprehension

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


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

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

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

the choice is obvious

some old habits
have to die

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

Sally

©Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
May 31, 2020

(Recurring Reflections And Beliefs)

Birthday after birthday
i keep looking back...
and find five girls always on my tail,
i see them as my regular paparazzi
when i am in my busiest moments,
when things work out adversely,
against all my best efforts
i find them still tagging along with me...

And then,
i look back at my most trying times
i recall those epiphanies that came to light my way,
how they guided me through,
until i was out of the dark tunnel...
.....until that MOMENT came
when i could hear with just one ear,
i have no regrets, though, or anger within,
for, i could still hear the leaves rustle
when a light breeze blows...
i hear even the dry oak leaves
as they hit the ground,
or when an empty plastic cup
is blown by the wind
from corner to corner of the street...
these days, i am more aware
of the bees buzzing on top of the flowers,
the birds, scattering seeds, helping
create new lives on the ground.....
i still clearly hear the hummingbird flapping its wings,
hovering, as it drinks from the bird feeder,
even as dusk sets in...
i hear the mockingbird...as it closes its wings
and roosts on a pine twig.....

One vital truth keeps me going-
i still have my one good ear
my eyes, my arms, my feet...
always, i am reminded of this question:
why did God endow us with two eyes,
two ears, two hands, two feet?
we lose one, there is still the other
in our daily lives, the same thing applies
among our loved ones and friends,
we lose some, we gain some....
some doors close, another one opens...
second, even third chances are ever waiting,
a fresh start is always there to be claimed...

In this stretch of my life,
i still am faced with choices on paths to take,
those once transitory thoughts
still visit and within me, they stir..
but, reason and good judgment
rise above all...

.....these things, i have realized---
most of what i wanted then...and didn't get,
i have now let go....
selflessness is inevitable,
there are people...things...to be prioritized
over  our own happiness
understanding is important
.....seeing myself here, now,
.....i am happy,
.....i am no longer there
still, i am glad to have been there...

When asked the most puzzling questions,
i have learned to turn
to the wisdom of the children,
i always, always have but one answer....
"...just because...".

At this point and time,
life, still is not perfect...
but i have known how to be calm,
as i face each new day...
perfect, or imperfect,
it doesn't matter anymore,
heart and mind have been honed,
for this knowledge overrules all others:

God is beside me, He is behind me...
He leads me,
He's got me covered...
i have nothing to fear...

(November 13, 2013)


Sally

Copyright November 2013
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

Time spent traveling is time wisely spent,
hours are filled with enriching experiences
and soul-searching moments

my morning trip to San Diego was such...
my eyes feasted on a blue-green ocean,
with daring surfers atop cresting waves;
and then there were my fellow farers...

the atmosphere inside the Amtrak
was a mix of moods...of voices of folks...
silent ones slept the whole trip...several,
had coffee and bread, while reflecting...
some were already working ahead of time,
giving instructions via their mobile phones...
a few were smiling, taking life positively,
maybe, dwelling on pleasant memories;
others wore serious faces...in deep thought,
maybe thinking of love's and life's unfairness,
sad realities they leave behind each morning,
the same ones they go home to each night.

boarding a train is one chapter,
getting off is another.....the platform is
where situations end, or, a fresh start awaits:
new job, a family...finding one's self somewhere,
ending a relationship...moving on when a loved
one dies...drifters are ever, "just passing through,"
they go....wherever the train takes them...

trips are inward journeys...the hours open
and clear our minds, leaving realizations
and wiser perspectives over nagging issues
we shun...or, defy; we try to change what
can be changed in our lives...and accept
with peace...what...cannot be changed...

we are on a journey...we are farers all,
...........in this train...called life...


Sally

© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
July 5, 2019