🎉😷⛈⚡️🌕🍷🎂🍨🕊

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

We gathered, like we were in a huddle
Doing Yin and Yang movements in a circle...

A lighted candle was in the middle.
We closed our eyes, we were concentrating,
Slowly, internalizing...
Stillform Shibashi movements followed
While thanksgiving prayers were solemnly offered...

Out of nowhere, 
Two furry, roundish creatures leapt from behind
On the red-yellow flame they almost landed...
Both stretched...and ******.... and stretched,
As if they were doing the movements with us...
Suddenly, they were up and about...
One was raring to have fun, while 
The other could not focus on cleaning its tiny snout.
On a gay mood, they went on rolling within our big circle
Not minding they could be burned by the gentle flame. 

We, the quiet ones,with a bit of fear, 
Were just watching,
Captured by their honest fun, 
Exercises started fading...
Back and forth, the two creatures went romping
Hitting the feet of most everyone in the circle...

They were seizing their moment
Overflowing was their adrenaline  
In the open air, they were reckless, uncaring..

Under the morning sun, they were shining brightly
I had silently asked, at first,
"Who would need one black and one white mittens?
"Who would have thought, with their tiny heads hidden, 
They were two furry, purry playful kittens?


Sally
Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan



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

(not much of a poem)

Thrice awake, asleep, again awake
Something always wakes me up

The phone sounded, nobody answered
Procession and vigil ended
Late fireworks echoed through this Black Saturday night..

I'm deciding: to cease, or not to cease
I can't find my desired peace
To find lost journals, or just burn what's left, old and new
To start or not to start, a life anew
To rise, or just lie through this hot evening
My late mother said then: Black Saturdays are days...rarely ending
Black Saturdays are for resurrecting...celebrating...
This late night, it is segue-ing, to an Easter morning
While dogs are barking, while gecko is calling
Cats are quiet, where are they stashed? where could they be hiding?
Here...now... I am a car, my motor is hushed...but i am still running...


Sally


Copyright April 4, 2015
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

Black Trees haikus
  
The lamp post leans...light,
is dim...the wind blows...rain, falls
black trees...sway on wall

loud pitter-patters
drop...pound heav'ly on the roof
black trees...droop on wall

ceding...accepting...
floods rush...spreads all over...the
black trees... sway no more

roots have lost their grip
too much water...inundates
black trees...surrender

life...is like a tree
there are many elements
water is just one

nothing's permanent
floods recede...sun returns...then
black trees sway once more.


Sally

Copyright October 18, 2015
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

next to my cup of hot bitter coffee
my bowl has a cone
an avalanche of heartache cereals
that is about to fall...
a plate of
peppered uncertainties omelet
beckons to be gulped and wiped out....
but, alas, i feel already stuffed
i can no longer swallow...
-----------
i decided to skip breakfast....



Sally

Copyright 2013
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

On the table, my cup of hot coffee
sits on a saucer comfortably,
spreading steam stirs my serenity
there goes my list of priorities
and today's unknown destiny...

breakfast voices bring airs of diversity
contrasting minds present complexity,
in our world, any ancestry, or sovereignty
some, have become used to sophistry

one thing i've learned: caffeine and disparity
in opinions, break the ice of a new morning

this morning's issues overwhelm me
topped by fallacy and political travesty!
i'd rather be stuffed with bread and peppery
scrambled eggs, or peanut butter so crunchy,

but....served cold, was our coffee
and there were no fries, so skinny
disgruntled, disappointed minds realize
we're no longer in our known paradise

on my home table, a cup of bitter coffee,
sits on its saucer....comfortably,
while sipping, i recall and ponder patiently
its wakeful scent takes me to a known serenity
away from alienating airs of diversity...



Sally

Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
May 14,  2018

(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

(morning twilight)

\0/    \0/    
\0/    

In the drowsy stillness of
morning twilight.....when
feet are still huddled beneath
a light cotton sheet...the urge
to get up is not too strong
the bed, a hammock of quietude,
is comfortably warm with body heat.
this is the moment....fresh sounds
fresh air, fresh ideas, renewed hope,
all come in...all flow cool and smooth,
joining this civil dawn's atmosphere
......................
i emerge from a peaceful inertia
from this stream of calming thoughts,
rising..........breaking silence...........
......to be at the helm...as usual
........................................
..................­.........................
fried hungarian sausages for breakfast?
...grilled bass and eggplants for lunch?
fried chicken, fried fishcakes for dinner?
with sliced tomatoes and cucumbers?
...................................
is there enough bread, rice, water,
meat, fish to last for the week?
in this lengthening pandemic?
..............................
........................­.
coffee mug is still half-filled....slices
of fried plantain stare back, begging
to be eaten, as chicken, veggies, fish
recipes razzle-dazzle in my mind
a normal moment in my mornings
.............................
oh well...am pouring more coffee
☕️☕️☕️
....................
que sera, sera


Sally

©Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
May 24, 2020
4:34 AM

(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

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

---a cheese-tasting cat? or a cat-tasting cheese? no, of course not!
             ---it is a cat named after a kind of cheese---

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

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

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

her name is B R I E ...*



Sally

Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

(((( broken record ))))

..........it usually depends...........
.......on prevailing circumstances.......
The fragility, or inconsistency of excuses
Can't just ignore the gravity of a situation
Some behaviors....need immediate attention
Could also be....the dominant mood of the day
The five girls say, it's not the day's.........but mine
However they look at it, or feel about it....they obey
Right values must be inculcated in their growing minds
Words have to be repeated....clarified.....and emphasized
Advice given by kinsfolk, must be heard.............and I smile,
As I ignore their pouting lips...unnecessary frowns....snorting.
Can't ever be their Wonder Woman....to keep them from falling,
So, with a loud or modulated voice...I say my piece over and over
Like a record gone awry....playing off and on.....every now and then.

Got to be broken at times
Got to play my music
As often as needed.

Sally


Copyright May 7, 2016
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

Brownout

A not too loud explosion pierced the quiet hours
..................immediately after......lights went out

Twelve midnight, and two minutes later
there gently blew, a whiff of cool air,
brushed past my cheeks and shoulders
but...that was it

Every hot, humid second of every burning minute
took too long to get out of my sweating body
the heat seemed stationary
in the stillness of this limited territory

Lukewarm water
flowed out of the shower
being wet.......was brief
it didn't bring much relief

It was cooler....out at the verandah
but mosquitoes are more active in the dark
the flickering candlelight
teased them all the more, this moonless night

This should be a good time
to ponder........to write
but my head feels limited...empty
swelling with something else, that is chilly
this silent.........uptight
uncomfortable summer night
...the hours, consumed with blight
a disappointment outright...

just waiting....for my eyes to give in
no longer defying,
but surrendering,
to the hot...humid
dark wee hours of the morning.

Sally

Copyright May 12, 2016
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

( ) ) (( )(())

No cold wind blew
to abate this afternoon's heat...
no rain showers brought out
that sweet smell of very dry soil
...........touched by rainfall

tonight, my mind is occupied by
the transience of things
all thoughts are fleeting
inspirations are hard to capture...they're
soap bubbles, flying...bursting in the air

"bubbles"......made me turn to my left
where a wineglass stood, and sparkled...
my eyes stopped, stunned...a bottle of Prosecco,
was within reach......it beckoned...

ahhhhhh......sips came one after the other,
much delight in its bubbles...in its taste...
i want to be numb from nagging pain,
from the cries...the anguished sighs
that can never go, without a tear falling...
bubbles of pain...slowing down
the passing of days....but all these
will wane one day,....and be part
of the banalities of my diurnal life...

just like in the past, this, too, will pass...
this late hour, again, i raise my glass,
and drink away my days of woe...high
to the bright lights
for, a different kind of radiant yellow
drives away my trail of shadows
i will just smile
even for a while
and enjoy its bubbles
::::::::::::::
:::::::::
::::::
::::
::
::
::
::
::::::::­:::

Sally

Copyright September 15, 2017
rrab

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

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

(Love poem #3)


It's happening again!
A face...unforgotten
Re appears, through my mind's  parted curtains
Doesn't leave...it haunts
Eyes follow me
Eyes talk to me
And then a flame
Inside my chest suddenly burns
And I am wondering why
It doesn't wane
It's been many, many months
Yet, the fire is so alive,
Consistently bright
Inside me, burning.
I am left churning
And I don't know,
Why now?
Door and windows
Are almost shaded...jaded
Been trying to put behind my head
A name....a face
Your face
With eyes that don't blink,
They just look on...

I will just have to close  mine
To stop meeting yours.

But then
The flame will still burn....


Sally


Copyright February 5, 2017
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

(haikus)


Steel brushing...annoys
but this odd, soft sound.....haunts me
i peeped through the drapes,

thought of gum bubbles
imagined one bursting......as
bullfrog's huge throat shrunk...

Sally


Copyright Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
September 24, 2018

^ ^ ^


I meant to write about two
black and white butterflies,
resting upon the thick leaves
of my Norfolk island pine tree,
i planned to write about
a grasshopper, camouflaged by
the green grass on the front yard,
i almost crashed its body, if it hadn't
leapt before i stepped on it...
i was thinking of turning on the
christmas lights this monsoon season,
for an early holiday start.

i focus on happy scenes,
on good times past...because,
i miss those times, and
i long for them to come back...

there are some things i couldn't fix,
which i think, gave birth to this
pain inside my tummy.
to not know what happens next,
scares me so.

and so, i keep trying...to write of
butterflies and grasshoppers,
and
i might just hang a lantern,
instead.



Sally

Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
October 12, 2020

By the shore...

.....i dropped wearily, on the sand...

"O, silent dragon, as you lurk, my cold sweat
....merges with a rush of angry waves
lapping ******* me...i'm a boat, that keeled,
i'm already scared as dead,
of something that can't ever yield."

i bit my lower lip, prickly with salty water
stinging my eyes...i'm all wet, with salty water
restlessly...alternately, legs are spreading,
toes touching tight......then crisscrossing
shifting positions...left, right, forward,  
then backward
thoughtfully lowering hand, feeling ****,

..."my poor weary ones, i'm sorry,
......for too long...i tarry
so much weight you carry."

sand was warmer where i sat,
above, a spinning atmosphere
i stood up...reeling....fell on my back
made a loud splash on that
afternoon's sea water...i was squinting,
my face, i was repeatedly wetting,
to douse panic that was clawing
on the heart....though the cold was soothing,
i knew...a red-eyed green monster was lying
beneath........keeping vigil.........waiting
patiently for me.......to relax my defenses,
then fall........and let go of my reflexes,
its fiery eyes, anticipating its success.

"o, am i but a coward? I sway, my feet sashay
i am very sane....and definitely, not lame
i know......myself,  i can never betray.
you and i, we've been watching each other,
for years........would this go on forever?"
::::::
"great fear, my old friend, why do you accompany me?
you pulsate in every corner within me
i'm too visible
too vulnerable.
i am farthest from the lips of the shore,
yet, i feel you, a monster, watching me from afar..."


intense fear...births a rebel
weariness takes over.....it opposes, it swells
takes a turn, throwing caution to the wind.
lumps of wet sand drop from gripped hands,
later, they'll be dry and loose again,
free.....and reunited with the rest.

"each time i struggle, i miraculously survive,
...like you, my green dragon, you persist...stay alive,
...ebbing, flowing with the waves.....in my mind,
............where, you comfortably hide......"

Sally

Copyright June 15, 2017
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

/\  /\  /\  /\  /\

There's a need for more space,
i feel a lack of fresh air...mostly
carbon dioxide permeates the
inner atmosphere...

grown faces, bodies, voices,
are seen in most corners of the
house, mingling with older ones,
trying to get by, in their own way...

there must be space for house help
sleeping over...i am human, a mix of
selfish, conscientious and unkind,
but it matters that tonight, all are safe,
what's good for the lot......prevails

when the death of each ECQ day is at hand,
when i'm satisfied that all are okay and safe,
i go to my room and concede to its persistent
calling...to free some of my cramped thoughts...
i sit by the window with a lamp's glow, i part
the drapes...and let cool night air envelope me,
i take my time, drifting on blue waters of serenity
as daytime's cabin fever vanishes....temporarily...


Sally

©Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
April 29, 2020

Dinner is done
everyone's settled
the evening.....like the moon.....is full...
the weight of the night has itself eased into mine,
my expected moment of slumber...now distraught...
the Heavens are purpled
twilight drapes have fallen,
winds of March...bellow
.........my pillows
..............are hollowed
.......................by my elbows
......as a distant rooster crows........
i lie on my abdomen...legs swing back and forth,
catching inspiration, a word, a daydream...a thought,
i grab a pen falling, i grasp a journal, a book,
...............everything is within reach
but, not...the....long..................stretch
of hours....of a sleepless night...whence
....spiced...spiked...and sugared memories...
..........accompany me...and sail with me
.......as i cruise along this lethargic sea
'neath a silent dark, where aches are loudest
.........domed, by an unworded loneliness,
i am wearied by a flow, that is endless,
.....this minute...imagination is ceaseless
........i reach for my mug....but, it's empty
.........................i hear no liquid seething
this moment,  a dark sea, should be brewing....
this hour, verses must be a river, overflowing,
...enfolding, this cool and starry, starry evening...
.......i am caffeinated....even without coffee....

Sally


Copyright March 23, 2017
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

10W X 3


It wasn't the rooster's crowing, 
that woke me
this morning.

The neighbor's pet's
loud declaration
intensifies.
blatantly,  
it is moaning.

Nightcalls are
noisier tonight
mating's unfinished
dauntlessly, cat
keeps calling.



Sally


Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

A wind passed, and roused my lethargic mind
then, i noticed golden yellow leaves
starting to drop from  the money tree.
as a young girl, i recall chasing leaves falling
careful not to let them touch the green grass.
i pondered on my own invented game...do i run?
to catch, or not to catch.....even one leaf
was a child's dilemma...that became mine,
for, a leaf falling, is a poem, starting...
a love...blooming....or, an elusive one
or one that's struggling...

after a fall, comes the rising...where
something should be bravely emerging,
this is the time, when tamed, unnamed feelings
suddenly, become verses, sliding from the tongue,
mind is active, hand is alive, pen hurriedly writes
the soon-to-be-born poem,
...the one hashtagged...chased...or sought.
a word, a name, a face forgotten, now remembered,
a love...that is fading, or falling out,
all these should be held, grabbed...captured!
before they truly escape from our grasp
or, be blown further away...by a cold, autumn wind
...and leave us drowning, in a stream of regret...


Sally


Copyright April 19, 2017
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

Maybe, we're just walking...or working,
merely going through our daily grind,
suddenly, the unexpected pops up,
something hard to ignore...we react...

when circumstances call for it,
mothers and fathers become doctors,
other times, to  plumbers, or carpenters,
even ministers of the church...

some folks, after their nine to five stints,
volunteer....to mingle with despondent
souls, like prisoners... reach out to them,
as priests or trusted friends do......
some swim, or paddle through floodwaters
to give food and supplies to flood victims,
others cross through fires to save lives,
others care for orphaned, or abandoned kids...
nurses, doctors,  even ordinary citizens,
walk the extra mile...help those lost in their
own illnesses.....to find themselves back.
............................the list never ends...

"mysteries" always unfold before us,
their purposes are incomprehensible, but,
they turn us into healers, therapists, carers,
we, at times become miracle workers...

even cold-hearted people were born
with seeds of love embedded within them
in some mysterious ways, the willingness
to change hats occurs, when the need arises...


Sally

Copyright Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
October 29, 2018

It started with a few strokes,
a pointed charcoal,
pulsed...led by the
thumb and index finger, that
initiated a sway of arcs, the contours
of boyish hair, clinging to the nape
a few short strands on a not so wide
forehead,
very near...........a pair of
not so bushy eyebrows, under which
stared...peeping, smiling
almond-shaped, brown eyes.
then...followed gentle strokes
of perfect highs and lows
of a
medium-bridged
nose.
:::::
hills, valleys, and softened arcs
shaped and manifested character-
high cheekbones....a pointed,
but softened chin,
suddenly, i was
looking at
sensual,
full, pouting,
luscious lips.
:::::
index finger covered tip, to help
define jaws....then slid down lower,
a slick,
slender
neck
appeared,
propped up by
a shallow clavicle
and gently shaped  shoulders,
that fool judging eyes and minds
they seem small, and weak
and fragile, but, they can carry
tons of worries...determinedly.
:::::
fingers angled, pencil tip slowly
danced...in careful strokes,
and curved lines,
artfully creating
a valley,
'tween two heavenly mountains,
with pinkish brown crowns
conspicuously tensed at the tops...
pencil moved decidedly....so sure...but,
slow in shaping waist...then curved
on rounded hips..sliding inwards
to the front.....to a central point,
essential, fundamental, umbilical.
its surroundings raised, as if to protect
a knotted cord...filled with stories...closed,
atop a slightly fleshy belly...
from there, a short distance downward,
led to a hidden flower
the reason...a cradle...a port,
covered by a triangular shield,
squeezed in between
chubby thighs and legs.
:::::
lines went lower, narrower...
shaped a pair of fair feet,
with painted toes
ably supporting
a bare maiden
::::::::::::
wonderfully
sketched,
:::::::::
in
deep
charcoal.
:::::


Sally

Copyright July 30, 2017
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

(10 w x 6)

I'm losing hold,
reflexes...relaxed,
...in a cradle,
..........swayed....by---
O
strong summer-y wind
................pushing
........pulling.....
......c a d e n c e... is
..........h y p n o t i z i n g...
.............playing music,
O
a sleepy tune
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~lulling the mind
~ ~ ~ and the eyes ~ ~ ~
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ while
O
~ ~ ~birds flitting about
~ ~ ~ ~dull the senses, and
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ quieten the soul...
O
i cannot...
i don't want
to ~ ~ fight ~  ~ it
~ ~ any ~ ~ longer
O
~ ~ to the gentle afternoon breeze
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ blowing ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
~ ~  i finally ~ ~ ~ ~ willingly
~ ~ ~ succumb ~ ~ ~
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
O


Sally

Copyright January 26, 2016
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

(Christmas haikus)


I'm sitting across
an old .eucalyptus tree
leaves are not  moving

in...out....so quiet
the hummingbirds are nowhere
curtain lights are still

has time stopped? no way!
Christmas bells rang, lights sparkled
...just two days ago

poinsettias are hushed
Christmas lull seeps into me
...am glad....clock still ticks...
*

Sally

Copyright December 27, 2017
rrab

The circumstances,
The clouds that once dimmed my mind
Are now gone...
I now see the light...bright...
Maybe, it is just wise,
Better, easier,
To change directions...
It behooves me
To fight the wind.
What else is new with pain?
We've been friends since time immemorial,
Pain and I...
Again, I shall survive...
Letting go would be my crucible,
Each passing day would be nothing less...
I would never be aware, when
Time, they say would be of help...
When sun and moon and stars,
Would bring lively colors to life anew...,
When there would be new reasons
To live for...to die for...
I shall face the challenge once again...
Just maybe, I could love someone new...
There would never be an equal,
Because I loved you first.
In all these confused moments
I find myself drowning in,
Nothing will ever change...
The fact still remains...
Friends, we shall always be...
Friends is all we'll ever be...
Be assured, I shall forever stay,
Your   O n e   T r u e   F a n ...
Ask me "Why?"
Same old answer...
" J u s t   B e c a u s e..."

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

  Sally

   Copyright 2013
       Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

(for Mama <3 )

She wore her favorite red and beige
batik cotton dress, that morning,
while i,...wore old, faded clothes,
unfit to be worn outside the house,
my slippers, thinned by frequent use...
she would've admonished me,
had she noticed.

she never went out of the house
wearing crumpled attires......no missing
buttons or snaps...her collar was always
straight...stiff.....until she came home
from work at night...

as she grew older, she preferred more
comfortable clothes, like, cotton shirts  
and dresses....and how she favored
those with batik patterns...
even with her back bent a bit,
she still dressed up
with grace and confidence.
whatever the occasion was.

in her younger days, i felt sad
each morning when  she left for work...
with admiration, i followed her as she
walked away...as far as my eyes could reach...

these days, i am older...i still follow her,
as far as my mind could remember...


Sally

© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
---July 10, 2019

On a late afternoon stroll,
the blue sky slowly dims,
as billowing clouds of gray
and white, move farther and
farther away...like wavelets
on a stream.....always going
forward, never flowing back.

among a stream of faces, i wish
to be a shy spark, barely bright
like those tiny bearers of light
on starry or moon-glowed nights.

ah, to be like a child, with eyes
aglow, beaming with a smile,
when these dots of light
emerge on dark hours,
high and low...i forget life's
nagging murmurs of unfairness.

i err, as i am human, but when
i see the clouds, i see God's face.
He sees me without fail, as i rise
from the grass...or from a fall.

i join those low-keyed glowers at night,
with them, i'm just, a bigger firefly,
seeking truth in their short-lived light.
:::::::::::::
::::::::::

sally b

© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
July 15, 2021

☕️☕️☕️

Awake still, a few hours
before sunrise…and yet,
every morning, rising early
is a hard habit to break.

Dry thirsty mouth awaits
the morning’s initial cup
of steaming fulfillment.
caffeine's instantaneous effect
goes beyond waking hours,
working it’s way through the
day’s unfolding inspirations,
born from uncertainty, as
well as predictability, and
through deep concentration
and cups of hot refills.

One gets rapt in the hours of the
day…regardless if it’s a win or lose,
five-thirty…six pm approaches...
Mooned…or moonless, night comes,
to pause, or otherwise…our bodies,
our circumstances, the horizon speak:

‘Enough’ is a decision arrived at,
the dark sky leads to a new dawn,
to new journeys, once again, to be
enriched, inspired, and sustained by
countless cups of fresh coffee.

So, if it’s already four, or five am,
no more dilly-dallying..get up now,
have your first cup…take the first sip,
be driven………….be inspired.
☕️☕️☕️

sally b

©Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

Awake still...sipping coffee this
unholy hour...i wonder how buried
moments can easily gatecrash into
my sober flow of thoughts, flipping
like pages of a book, blown by a
strong wind...i could smell dried rose
petals pressed between the pages.

i could also smell mottled pages
holding mottled memories...they
should have crumbled, be forgot,
but, bravely, they flash back, clear
as the rustling of bamboo leaves
right outside my window.....ahh,
the devil never sleeps...he creates
a stir at the unholiest of hours,
drops it like a bomb, disturbing
my calm universe;

suddenly, it's 4:00 am
i blink a few times to dismiss what
should be forgot.....then, suddenly,
it's 5:00 am.....more coffee.

the eyes watching bubbles from
curling, crisping bacon, strayed,
far from the skillet, but, focused
back, before the pieces got burned.

6:00 am now...breakfast time
for online class attendees.

in my universe, mornings are a
mix of sniffs...of coffee, fried eggs,
fried bacon, sausages, fragrant
gardenia blooms...not to forget
whiffs of good and bad memories.
::::::::::::::::::
::::::::::::::
:::::::::::
::::::::
:::::
::
­:
Good morning everyone!

sally b

© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
July 13, 2021

<>
In the soft early morning light
of a quiet, peaceful kitchen,
some of us
make coffee, or tea,
while air is still cold,
the house,
still devoid of human noise.
<>
Fingers are slow and gentle
while stirring.
the careful touch of teaspoon
to cup is the only sound heard,
no voices, just the breathing
of a silenced heart...could be,
<>
A heart filled with hope...or a
broken heart, courageously
trying... to forgive...to forget;
it may be a heart  quivering
from unnamed fears...on its own,
in an unidentified darkness.
<>
Maybe, it's the heart of one
who seeks something meaningful
to say, or write, but, often end up
with mediocre stuff...
<>
These sleepless hearts are always
up early…savoring quiet air,
avoiding human conversation,
finding a perfect ally in cups of
coffee, or tea that provide warm
tolerance...silent witnesses to
sagging spirits...the first ones to
hear our contented or heavy sighs,
because,
once in a while, life makes us
seek the calm, the peace
emitted by the steam, rising
from a cup of hot coffee, or tea.

<>

sally b

© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
    March 22, 2023

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

(10w x 4)

<3  <3  <3

Why do lovers
find coherence
in whispered
silly sweet nothings,

even just
the warm breath
of the one
who whispers,

every "ha?" and "hmm?
uttered
means the universe
to both...

there is more than
coherence
when gazes meet
and lock...
::::::::::::
::::::::
:::::
(who needs words?)
:::::
::::::::
::::::::::::


sally b


© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
  February 14, 2021

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

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



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