Blurred, steely moon came
'fore twelve midnight...strong wind blew
Between moon and me...

Chilly silence cloaked
A long sleepless night......as hushed
Night creatures connived

No dogs barked, or howled
No cats growled, or called their mates
Frogs didn't dare croak

Silhouettes swayed on
Big shadows cowered.........wind, sang
Its weird lullaby

Stilled moon stayed put.......as
Dark indigo firmament
P a t i e n t l y   watched................while

Earth moved...............tides, ebbed...flowed
Time passed..........moon ceded.........then came
............................Fiery Orb............at dawn.

      (3/1/16---12:46 AM)


Sally


Copyright April 5, 2016
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

Moon glows o'er night blooms
strings play "Misty,"...soft voice hums,
......serene, fragrant dusk...


Sally

-© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
July 28, 2019

(monsoon moments 1)


The lively colors of summer have faded
Blazing May afternoons have ended,
Clear skies are now ash-blue, sometimes blae
Blooming with soggy grayish ***** of cotton,
Ever ready to burst with crystal drops...
Monsoon winds blow.......then rain follows
Big, heavy, noisy raindrops hit the roof,
They pour longer........inundate the streets
Making them impassable.......................but
I'm raring to be out there when it falls,
Let its cold touch, give me goose bumps...
And waken every nerve in me...
Let it wash away the heat and humidity from my body
Let its steady flow, drench my short hair, flat to my skull,
Let it compress my long-running indecision: do I, or do I not?
I'd wait for all these to slide down and join the wet ground
For, I want to walk around....soaking wet, and barefooted,
Feel the grass.......subservient to the downpour
I want to dip and wiggle my toes in the softened soil,
'til floodwater reaches my ankle
'til I'm one with earth and water
And then I...
Would feel unburdened,
When I come in
  From the rain...


Sally


Copyright June 9, 2016
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

A cold midnight wind blows.
underneath a moon glow,
silhouettes of leaves, sway
with an enchanting grace,
while “Sabor A Mi” plays.


sally b

© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
September 21, 2022

(me and my shadow)

<o>  <o>

The evening air was cool
that rainless night in June
on the street, i looked around
my backward steps were measured
i needed a right spot,
i needed a good shot
for, up there, a creamy full moon
hung above the neighbor's roof...

the pavement was moonglowed
whence stood me and my shadow,
no noise, not even a soft wind's blow
as if God had stilled the world,
a finger on His lips, to stop all sounds
and movements...to call my attention,
...........to waken my perception...

then, i heard a hurried crash in the dark,
i thought, perhaps, a bat made its mark
in my mind, and up my spine, fear sparked
a cold wind swayed the branches
followed by thumps on the ground, a crunch
of footsteps, confirmed all my hunches,

God, both my feet refused to cooperate,
'til i felt something in my pocket vibrate

thank God for my phone, it shook my limbs,
until.....fear no longer kept my mind dim

i whisked...away from the pavement,
enough of these moonglowed moments!


Sally

Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
July 30, 2019

(on a Black Saturday)


Sun beams touch the lustrous shells of
the capiz chime, dazzling the eyes and mind,
the walls on both sides of the big window are
newly painted, immaculately white, so bright,
....the pink blooms of the bougainvillea,
humbly bowed for almost two weeks now,
have turned to a faded brown.......wilting...

the strange nest had fallen, and gone
the young of the yellow green-breasted birds
have grown, flown away...all have found
............other trees to perch on

the sweet sop tree quivers
from its heavy fruits and birds on branches
enjoying their meal of fruits...ripe and juicy,
leaving some for the bats at night

a striped yellow cat rests on a shaded part
of the roof...i patiently wait for daddy long legs
to come out from the gutter...but in vain...
...paint still wet?...scent too strong, maybe?

maybe, the gravel and pebbles on the ground
weigh too much...did i unknowingly bury them?
i am missing the spectacle of an earthworm,
..........emerging from under the soil

big ants are restless...driven out...roaming,
the bricked wall's natural tan-beige shade
has surfaced...concrete wall is too hot...
these bricks, must be repainted white, as well

the ants, the spiders, the earthworms,
the bats, make their own preparations,
why can't we human beings do the same?
we prefer to suffer the consequences, and
deal with the results of unpreparedness:
el nino, earthquakes, unwanted people,
la nina, unexpected decisions, unwanted
changes...and all sorts of crazy "uns,"

townhouses have risen on my street
strange faces of new neighbors  
......pass me by...
......as i write...
the worst heat of summer is yet to come...



Sally


Copyright April 15, 2017
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

(Morning Poetry with Lola)

Wednesday started with a cold, cold morning.
i wrapped myself with a thick blanket,
hid my "popsicle toes,".....seeking warmth
from recollections that played in my mind
like pleasant, joyful summer, music.

when my kids were toddlers,
i started them off with, "all things bright and
beautiful, all creatures great and small..."
but, as they grew a little older, my mother,
she woke them up each morning with,
"o captain, my captain,
our fearful trip is done..."
and then, tomorrow, we would hear,
" i shot an arrow into the air
it fell to earth...i knew not where,"
the next morning, my mother's feature could be,
"of course, i love my country,
the land in which i live,"
some days we would hear reruns....but,
the week would never be complete, without
her most favored one....which, she delivered
with a valiant voice, while pounding her chest:
"...i am  the  master  of  my  fate;
  i am  the  captain  of  my  soul!"

my kids rubbed-open their eyes in awe,
as they listened to their lola..'til they were done
with their morning rituals.

their lola kept a copy of longfellow's evangeline
but she didn't live long enough
to share it with her five great-granddaughters.
God knows...my late mother knows, i did my part,
to open the eyes...and minds of these girls,
to waken THAT awareness in them, that would
make them see, and feel...the beauty of poetry.
not everyone realizes the importance,
the necessity.....of poetry,
that life itself...........is poetry,
that, when you're a poet,
and when you're deep into it,
........you cannot just let go
for, it clings to your heart and soul,
it is like,
your second skin
...................
it's a hard habit
to break.
..................
............
the older girls read poetry...and mythology, as well,
a mix of classic and contemporary,
......but they and i, have added thoreau,
dylan thomas, teasedale, and many more
names to their lola's most favored
longfellow, henney, and whitman.
.................
.......
Sally

Copyright December 7, 2017
rrab

(out in the open)

Eyes see a plane gaining speed...now airborne
Soaring...from a background of bright, lush horizon
Out in the open
I see the high and low....of slopes...undulating,
Curves and points abound...showing
A rising
A falling.
Surface is covered with grass, bushes and trees
A pallette of nature's colors...brown, yellow ochre, red, orange, green
All are nurtured by light from sun
All are watered by dew and rain.
Outdoors, or indoors...there truly is a rising
always followed...by a falling
To show and prove, a story of birthing
how it is.....when surviving
and what transpires...when in the process of dying

Alone...out here in the open
I am infinitesimal...just a dot, amidst this vastness
There's no one, just me...no rush...nothing is hastened
When i speak...aloud, in whispers...Somebody always listens
Even when i don't speak at all.
There is calm...yet the sounds are endless
The mockingbirds are singing...wind is whirring
Somewhere, water is flowing, running,
...all are ceaseless...

Now and then, heart beats, way too restless
Followed by a moment of helplessness
Have i strayed towards a path of selfishness?
Could there be a need for more...of selflessness?

In this diurnal existence, i am surrounded by mountains
On my own, i could never conquer those soaring cones on my horizon
But, i lift my eyes, up there...without a fiber of pretense
Surrendering  my shoulders, my all, to a known Omnipresence.

I dwell on a promise long time spoken
That, no matter how high my mountains
No matter how heavily laden
Just  a look up to the Heavens
Will make a big difference,
For, in my heart,
I know,
I believe:
Prayers
Can
Move
Mountains.


Sally


Copyright January 8, 2016
rrab

One afternoon, 'neath the shed,
mr. groundhog waited...
nothing in sight,  not a cat, nor a leapfrog
just the fading sound of walking clogs
"oohhh, she's gone!  time to burrow
.....my path is still short and narrow."
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
mr. groundhog started digging.....up to the rotting log
of the wide, cut-up oak tree, upon which, a bull frog
landed...then, leapt to a hidden garden bog.
fine rains started to wet the soil...at last, mr. groundhog,
emerged from his hole on the grassy center
he popped his head out.....suddenly, great fear
enfolded him, he felt a rushing wind...whatever, whoever,
could be watching....then, an odd scent filled the air,
it persisted...that stinging smell...of pepper
lucky woodchuck! the scent dispersed in the ether
its tiny granules got soaked in rainwater.
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
mr. groundhog sighed..."i'll leave it to the weather,
i'm kinda tired...........october, is almost over."

Sally
Copyright Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
October 24, 2018

There should be much reason for joy these days
the holidays are coming-
instead,
there is much sadness,
sorrow,
and grieving
too much violence happening
in this
distraught world
of ours.

Christmas is near,
Christmas songs should be played
yet,
a different kind of music
persistently plays
murmured by the wind
stirs the heart and mind of many
this desire for power is
gaining audience-
inflicting pain
claiming lives
sowing fear
affecting the whole
human race.

once, we had
a
World
in
Peace,
what we now have
is a
World
shattering
in
pieces.

Sally

Copyright November 15, 2015
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

My blood pressure escalated
Upon sight of the messy living room.
There was clutter everywhere,
Even on the dining table.
The bedrooms weren't spared at all.

I went to the bathroom, I slid and hit the floor...
What's a ball doing inside the bathroom?
My eyebrows curled....but,
I refused to give in to the situation.

With a sigh, I went to the kitchen
To get coffee and a sandwich,
With marmalade and cheese....
As I opened the fridge,  an avalanche
Of cheese, butter and bread
Fell on my feet.

I was really upset by now, but,
I decided to print some recipes, instead
I loaded some paper into the paper tray,
But got stuck all the way.  Just as I suspected....
Carefully, I pulled out underneath the tray,
A ball pen, a pencil, and some sticks of crayolas.

Too much to take at this early hour, I told myself.
I sat on the sofa, smiled as I saw a photo of
Myself, with five beautiful girls.....sweet little angels....
I imagined their faces,  wearing naughty smiles,
Their antics,  and their tactics, as well, their mischief...
I thought that,
...........life is too short, time is fleeting............
...........also, I'm not getting any younger.............
...........precious moments rarely happen twice.......
...........they'll be young ladies soon enough........
...........the house would be too neat by then........
...........no more cookie crumbs on the carpet........
...........no more scattered toys and books on the floor......
...........no more writings on the wall,
...........disastrous games and all..........

I miss my five granddaughters already.......

Oh, what the heck!   I sat back and relaxed
Amidst the mess and clutter.....I closed my eyes,
Savoring moments of pleasure, past and present,
On a stressful day, like today........

Sally


Copyright 2013
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

My Fingers Touch...
(an offshoot of an older poem...)

It happens  any minute of any day...the empty feeling...the sadness, the grief visit...all are put on hold...yet, they make me realize all the more,  grieving isn't over yet...
i think of the ones gone...but, there are people around me, with pressing needs...faces that get bored, but can't be ignored, needing my say and my care.

Mornings, i work around visible reminders...i touch them, i feel them...they take me back, while dusting old furniture,
window sills, and curtain frills.

My fingers touch the old bookshelf, i see Tortilla Flat, Perry Mason,
The  Raven, The Virginian
i find myself in a different era.

My fingers touch old framed pictures and photo albums, and i am slowly unburdened, sighing out unwanted energy.

My fingers touch the old bed, the old seal, the old vases...i am saddened, but comforted, by tangible souvenirs.

My fingers touch my temples, and the old memories, old dreams come back... it's the same face with the smile that never fades,
the same one that still shyly reassures me.

Never saw my father, yet he always smiled at me in my dreams.
perhaps, it was his way of telling me, he wasn't physically with me,
yet, he never left me.
despite his absence, he knows me, us, and we know him well.
i felt him closest when going through a dilemma, or when i was ill.
there was this loving presence,
only i can know...i was sure it was him
i miss the comforting warmth of those moments.

My mother had told us more than enough---their love story, dreams and plans cut short
where I got the shape of my face, my nose, my legs...my fingers
even my allergies,
the funny names he called my siblings and I, his funny tales,
his rocking chair
the events when he died...how he died
where he died...what time he died.

We knew him well
through those stories my late mother told us
through those accounts passed down to us by my late aunts
through my dreams that never have faded.

I realized
he was with us, all the way
silently...invisibly

...we never lost him at all...


Sally

Copyright March 28, 2015
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

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


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

Sally

Copyright 2013
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

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

A mix of hushed voices, blend with
loud sounds, and slowly slip into
the early hours of the day...

outside my room,
.......shrieking has waned
spoons and forks and plates and glasses
are quiet...the rush, to finish all before 6:00 am,
is done........footfalls from black-shoed feet,
echoed.......and faded with the wind
...no more school bus motors revved, yet,
the dogs are now playing roughly...and noisily
distant roosters, are doing their thing nonstop
....the latest news from the radio plays,
........a cellphone rings loud
the dryer spins clothes continuously
..pots and pans hit the stove burners
...tap water flows, splashing in the basin,
water from the hose touches leaves,
.......and the graveled ground
...but, according to my ears and my eyes,
it's a normal morning...the atmosphere, subdued...
suspicions arise when cacophonous sounds
are not heard......something could be wrong...

this being composed in the midst of noise
this unique silence in my rowdy mornings,
......never fails to enfold me......

Sally

Copyright January 25, 2018
rrab

:::::::

Birthdays are over and done,
october skies have moved on,
and brought us late november winds
we close our eyes to our unwanted truths
but....when we wake up, they're still there
they're too lazy to scamper away from us

so, we paint our minds with positive  occurrences
regardless of how people and circumstances
burst our balloons,
and bring down our festoons
some people make our spirits soar
...they make our days less dour
we wish to spend time with them
we would do, give anything on any term
just to experience moments with them,
:::::
even just for a thanksgiving night,
:::::
forget for a while our collapsed goals
.............which have turned to debacles
for, their fruition have become impossible
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
in our hearts, these dreams hide.
...they live on in our mind,
until God knows when...
it makes me think,
"time is always behind me
like......a shadow, warning me.."
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
so tonight,
after stuffed turkey, cranberry sauce and wine
and veggies, and coffee and apple pie,
i'd go out for a while, wear a thick sweater
and find the moon
full or crescent, it won't matter
if it doesn't show up...the stars would be there
i'll sing my song.....and start my dance
til i can no longer put up with the cold
and i will have to seek warmth inside.

Sally

Copyright November 23, 2017
rrab

He is the buddha in their household.

When he arrives from work,
his two elder daughters run to his sides
already holding their guitars,
wanting to start jamming with him
right there and then.

The two younger ones
stand close to his feet,
waiting to be swung with his arms
as soon as he puts down
his heavy black bag.

His third daughter just hugs him tight,
his tummy choking within her tiny arms.

Right now, he is walking on air,
smiling widely, as his five girls
give him their  gifts of homemade
loom bands and paper robots,
as they all  greet him loudly---
"happy father's day, daddy!"

He is my son, Norman,
he is the father of my five
granddaughters...

He is the buddha in their
household....


Sally

Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

We headed for Cold Springs
At past eleven this morning
There were countless cars rushing
My sister was driving.

I felt an air of incomparable silence
I sighed in awe...i felt, i knew of a Presence.
Overwhelmed by its essence,
It led me to a view that enveloped me:
The Hudson River, how it filled me with serenity,
The horizon, wavy mountains of reddish brown trees
The vast infinite blue above me
It seemed...all were watching me.

I could only stare at the perfect sky
That drew both my eyes
I could only think of God...feel Him,
In front of Him,
Below Him

...i am bare...body and soul...

like the endless rows
Of towering trees along Palisades Parkway
Bereft of leaves, fallen, and blown away,
For
He sees,
I cannot hide
He knows,
He understands, what goes on within me

I am naked.

On the same route now, going home
I feel again a breathtaking calm
I know i wouldn't tire
Of staring at this huge ball of fire
A yellow gold, still burning
And, oh, how stunning!
To a darker shade of orange...it is turning
Quickly dipping lower
the blue sky becomes purple...and darker
hoping later, a big round star is to hover
A creamy, glowing moon in December
One... i would always remember-

Alone or otherwise...night...or day
I am always aware
......
....i am bare....

He sees
There's nothing to hide
He knows
He understands, what goes on within me
In front of Him
Below Him
.......
.....body and soul.....
.......
I am NAKED.

Sally

Copyright December 5, 2015
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

...5 X 5...

Rooster prepares for early waking
content with just chicken napping
breathless: wings are powerfully flapping
each morning, weird song playing
waking us with endless crowing.


Sally

Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A, Bayan

:::::
:::
:

Odds are...one, or two in ten,
the easy feel of a Sunday morning
can be ruined...a wrong move, or,
a wrong word, hits a raw nerve, and
wakens dormant embers of anger.

It makes one sweat even in January,
when it's usually cold and breezy.

Cooler minds patiently try to
neutralize tension-filled moments,
they soften rigid tempers, painting
light blue over red...it's like defusing
a bomb that would explode soon,
it's like treading, tiptoeing on thin ice,
it's a sink-or-swim thing...

Blowing off hot steam takes long...it's
hard to keep warm spaces in between,
when frozen, stinging air from the
past...lingers still

How exhausting! but it can be most rewarding,
when cold winds take over, to heal angered,
hardened hearts...when the warmth of
peace steadily creeps, and conquers all.
:::::::::::
:::::::
:::
:
"Pass the pastis, please," i spoke
to myself, as i raised both legs on my bed,
so relieved, a storm had passed.
it was good to be in my room,
alone...



sally b


© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
February 8, 2021

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

It's a bad dream..happens any moment
...late summer, or...early winter...
...suddenly, you're among unfamiliar faces,
....or places...in a  strange island, where,
a cloak of confusion spreads...thick,
to the skin, to the mind,  it sticks...
eyes gape, in fear...in panic...
there are only questions...no answers
those that had been asked, seem unasked...
.......
a moment of normalcy, a calm...arises,
...as if, you've woken from your bad dream
a bliss, that is momentary...because
....at the back of your mind, lurks,
a phantom fear...of the dark dream
setting in once again...of getting lost again,
alone...floating through the waters of oblivion
........and it is not known, when the waters
.....again, would clear...
........
this dream comes on and off, it frequents,
....up to a point...when yesterdays vanish
you're on your own...afraid...isolated...
.....what happens tomorrow when
your eyes meet with those of your loved ones,
would there be a spark? make you remember?
in that dream space of strange faces and surroundings?
why do you attempt to escape?
where does that urge to flee, come from?
why do you want to go unnoticed?
do you feel abandoned? are you hurt?
do you recognize that feeling?
.......
you struggle...and in brief moments of clarity,
your eyes ask the questions.......in silence...
"will i ever wake up from this nightmare?"
.......
It's a dream that can happen
.........in the late summer,
or early winter....of one's life...



Sally

Copyright April 24, 2017
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

#npmdream #nightmare #oblivion #alzheimer'sdisease

(When The Rains Come)

Our house stands on a valley
early summer evenings find people strolling
specially when the sky is arrayed with countless stars,
and a full moon cooperates with a glow

Who wouldn't want a rain-less evening?
no rush...walking easy on a Friday or Saturday night
finding ways to unwind....glasses tingle in toasting
conversation and laughter fill the air...

In parts of the valley shielded by bridges and walls
there live the troubled, homeless souls
they, too, want to breathe the evening air
they leave their improvised homes
find dark spaces, where they turn bolder
some toughened...almost numbed
their litanies, held within
their eyes, beyond shedding tears
their faces stained with sadness and frustration
due to failed expectations

Around these dark spaces
are where callous eyes meet wary looks
where angels mingle with demons
where, most times, indifference wins
against compassion.

Twice,
i met the dauntless, black eyes of an old woman
i almost dropped mine, to avoid the stare
but she tapped my elbow...i looked up again.

Both of my shoulders would not suffice
to ease the burden this old woman carried
how do we deal with a problem that always starts but doesn't end?
how? when most turn their faces, their backs, their thoughts away,
because, there's nothing spectacular to see, or be expected
just more unpleasant things to come up.

The rains have finally come...our valley
most often, turns into a gully
where it seems to be raining forever.
i think of the old woman with black eyes
if she's still around, could she be hungry? wet again?
shivering from the cold rain?
where could she be seeking shelter
now that summer
is finally over?


Sally

Copyright May 23, 2015
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

...if we just...
(14 lines X 2)

(1)

There are sounds we dread to hear
Yet, we still face and hear them, day by day...like
The honking of horns during zero hours...footfalls
Briskly walking, rushing...crossing pedestrian lanes
Stiletto and pump heels hitting pavements
The whistles...screams, calling cabs...catching buses
A little further on...there in the park,
A band's  drums and cymbals are playing loudly
People go through their conversations simultaneously
All the bluster of the street....getting through our nerves...
And yet...somewhere along those sound waves....traveling
In the mix of all those sounds, reverberating
There arises some kind of music...there exists a rhythm
Which only a few can recognize...and appreciate...

(2)

Then, there are those who get bored with quietude
And find it impossible, to last a day in solitude
Where nothing moves....and there's nothing to hear
Not a sound from a high definition TV, radio...or a CD player
Where voices are hushed...where transparent curtains part
To let in a cool breeze...so one may breathe fresh air...
These are two different folks...doing different strokes...
Why not just disregard folks and strokes, focus, instead...listen hard,
Hear the music in quiet spaces, in corners buzzing with activities
In every direction, where blows the whirring, or tumultuous wind...
If we just open the gates of our hearts and minds...accept, discover,
Feel and recognize that song...wooing the tough voices within
Then...NO noise, NO place, could be disruptive, or irritating,
NO image...NO theory, could ever be abstruse.




Sally


Copyright April 1, 2016
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

The pile is ever ready
whatever type of music we dig...a ditty,
old songs, contemporary...all in a jiffy,
instruments will be playing
words, vocalizing all feelings
maybe, a song of calm
coming before, or after the storm...
.....
Notes hover above the piled 45s
look closely...find your desired jive,
let's find our favorite tunes
and take turns in  dropping coins,
record is pulled out...shortly, our song will play
hold disruptive elements at bay
because..you and i, we're gonna sway
as a full moon....rises from the bay
.....
allow our feelings to speak
while we're cheek to cheek,
as much as we want, we may croon,
after we dance, maybe we'll swoon
the world is ours...we'll be alright
"there'll be...no more lonely nights!"
.....

Sally

© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
    September 4, 2017

the day is at its end
the towers and domes in the city
are a lonely sight...abandoned,
all closed.........all hushed up
the gnomes of the day are mostly gone...
beware...the gnomes of the night
have just woken and are now energized...
raring to prowl the dark halls and corridors
out to the unlit alleys, backstreets and corners
cloaked by towering shadows
all set to play havoc to unknowing passers-by...
in the dark where all restraints are set free
where unconquered demons
take center stage...
in the dark,
where the dead gets to live again...
in the dark, where anything goes, unnoticed...
in the shadows, where
the dark sky is the limit....

until the first shafts of light come in...
when once again, all secrets
seek refuge in their hiding places
---------the dark takes a rest---------
---------as a new day unfolds--------

     Sally
       Copyright 2013
         Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

Their eyes meet...
from two opposite corners of the room,
immediately recognizing,
but still familiarizing
eagerly staring
without faltering
each other' s thoughts, they are reading
yet, torn by hindrances existing...

But their hearts and minds overrule...
"forget the couples surrounding!
forget the music playing!
forget the shadows in the dance ongoing!"

Not a blink, not a wink...
eyes, seem deliberating,
steps, though measured, still move in haste,
walking,
the distance, lessening,
crossing,
nearing without knowing...
hands clasp
slowly,
tightly...
lovingly accepting...

Hearts are beating faster,
now communicating...
how could it be possible
to touch without touching?
thinking their lips, kissing,
to hug without embracing,
through their eyes,
caressing...

~~~it is time to escape~~~

Eyes still glued to each other,
face to face this moment,
here...now...
breath against breath,
lips...apart...begging...
both unaware
of their chests thumping...
arms seeking arms,
lips seeking lips...
this is the moment....
sweet, sweet surrender...
love, long withheld, to be released,
desire, has to be unleashed...


Two old lovers,
once lonely doves, now making love,
in their own passionate way,
making up for long lost times...

Two old lovers,
left with no choice but to
tread along life's beaten roads,
find comfort once again,
in each other' s warmth...
arms wouldn't dare let go,
never, never again....



Sally

Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A Bayan

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

(Rambling thoughts on a full moon night)

High up there, I glance at you,
You hide again, sometimes peeping,
While I put aside
My worries for this day.
Gray waves and curves  shroud you
This early August evening...
Right this moment, you are out, perfectly rounded.
We watch each other,
You eye me down,
I look above, to you...
We speak in our silence,
With me, listening,
Offering all the warmth I could share with you,
You, with your Ivory white light, cold and distant
Unlike your warm yellow crescent
of some nights ago.

This evening, scary images have no places to go,
For you awaken in me
Dormant, unsettling thoughts.
I am confused, yet,
You show me a panoramic view of faces,
They dwell in my mind as I gaze at you.
But there is this brilliant one
That smiles beneath your moon glow,
It stares me in the eye,
Speaks to me, without words.

My breathing evens out,
It becomes a melody,
Because the time has arrived,
These few moments,
When restlessness drifts away
As you shine down on me,
When impatience departs from me,
And I am calmed suddenly,
And I don't know what else to think of,
For, this evening,
You, and this brilliant face have once again
Comforted me.
I am warmed, I am glad.

And I, now smiling, looking up at you,
My August moon, I bid you goodnight,
I am beaming, as silently, I thank you.


Sally

Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

(Java Jibe)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

1/3/15

Sally

Copyright 2015
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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



1/3/15

Sally

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

It was a twist of fate....
It was more than I could take....
Who would have  known of this tragic moment?
In a split second, I find myself in a strange scenario.
I want no more memories.....
Sadly, they're all that's left with me,
Mingling...with
Feelings unexpressed,
Words unspoken...
Things I kept to myself before,
They're all bottled up inside me,
I fear I might explode...
With every beat of my heart,
I am reminded of how I lost you...
The pain, the angst,
Will not just fade overnight...

So let me open my heart to you now,
Dear Anna......you were my first...
I love you and your siblings,
But right now is between you and me.
Somehow, I see
How tight I had held you then...
How your tiny hands I had kissed so often
Before I let you go.....I had to let you go...
I wasn't the one who raised you...
I wish I could turn back the times,
I wish I had been the one....
This knife cuts so deep, it crucifies me...
You kept saying goodbye
In more ways than I could remember....
But...I failed, to perceive the hidden truths
In your messages,
I will be sorry for the rest of my life...

I love you, Anna, how do I cope?
I have no more strength...
I am in panic, I have no more hope...
A different perspective now resides within me...
I can't face tomorrow, because you won't be there.
If I were given a choice,
I wouldn't wish to see another sunrise...

I feel the emptiness of your space, here and now...
But...something...keeps pricking my brain.
An idea that somehow, creates sparks in my mind...
A consoling thought, it kind of pats my heart...

The sweet little daughter you left behind?
It makes me smile, as
I see her now, going through your stuff,
On your bed, where you had left them all scattered...
She has taken over, she's now in your space...
A glimmer of hope, she will be...
To pull me through each, and
Every agonizing night...

I love you, I miss you, my dear Anna........

          (August 2013)

                 Sally        

        Copyright 2013
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

I am a foreign body, floating on the moon's surface,
suit-protected.....winds are blowing without cease.
high and low i go, over its dark craters
strange, not seeing fog or mist in the atmosphere.

the cold quiet leaves me in awe
soundless, as the moon that glows
'pon which i raise my eyes to,  from below
i sense a mix of joy and fear....i don't know

this boundless heaven has me conquered
the moon, and its silence......so open-ended
...if it's possible....i have often wondered
who knows, somebody must've dared, or tried,
i believe those wise words most often uttered:
...no man is an island...

from the moon's surface, i could picture
bright events to come in a few days...i'm sure
fires of red, blue and green would soon be bursting
to light the world...when the new year comes marching

there's this longing...to go home, to my earth  
where God meant me to be, the planet of my birth
to celebrate life...the present, the future, even the past
....to show, to speak my  gratitude......no matter what...

Sally
© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
December 29, 2018

(a work of fiction)

Remembering, when...
occasions, weekends were eagerly celebrated
even weekdays...any day was met with enthusiasm
but, how did all these special days become so ordinary?
how...why, did these red-marked dates become unimportant?

why are we here now, in this phase? at this point?
existing...standing on a plateau...where,
life offers no changes...no alternatives...
it's like...a storm decides to stop at midstream
chooses to stay...not just passing through
no swerving, no immediate changes in its direction.

the adventurous soul in us, hides...its spark, dies
sunlight looks dim...the moon is without a glow
clear sea water seems muddy...wading, becomes
so tiresome...legs and feet hurt so much,
from swimming...day by day
...away...from cacophony...

it gets to be weary,
to be reminded of a wrong choice,
or a wrong decision made,
to always rise...from a restless sea
most times, we taste impure water
contaminated...and adulterated
where acerbic, detrimental  words float,
further aggravating
existing emotional sores,
creating more lesions in the mind.
what's worse,
the ears that choose to be deaf, are further pierced
the already wounded heart and dashed ego, are further stabbed    
they all could one day, be numbed
.......by more of these ordinary days....

I wonder if it's better...to linger on a plateau
or to be on the cusp...of a fall...


Sally


Copyright April 17, 2016
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

it
bears all the signs of sharing...
yours,
mine, all our stuffs combined...
the
dresser and side tables,
in
the closet, and bookshelves, too.

the
walls are painted white.
somehow,
i see them now as dull gray...
my
side of the bed is warm and wrinkled,
while
yours is neat and cold.

the
glum atmosphere within
merges
with  my somber mood.
i
sigh, in need of fresh air, but
far
greater is my need for you to come back.

our
room cries for space...
yes,
it suffocates in silence...
but
in its crowdedness,
emptiness,
creeps through.....

(Published 1997)

Sally
       Copyright 2013
      Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

I first heard the sound
One summer of long ago.
It was kind of blurred, muffled…but
Later on, the beat, the rhythm surfaced.
Like a breeze that blew from nowhere...
It touched my senses.

Life blossomed
In different  colors..
There was warmth...there was movement
In everything I saw.
Rain or shine, it was there..
Especially when I was too restless
To close my eyes.
My thoughts, my feelings
I learned to shape
In words.

So vividly, I recall,
When new friends came, along with
New ideas, and new places to go to, as well.
Every chance I got,
I went back to the proper setting.
I beckoned it to come,
Over and over.
There was much reluctance during those
Frustrating hours,  night after night.
I realized,  
It had vanished...
Like a river went dry.

Empty journals stared back at me
Amidst  changes and disappointments.
I listened closely... patiently, I waited
For the notes to come back...
The ones I so long to hear.

One late evening, over a cup of coffee,
I felt a kind of light shine upon my head.
Some kind of heat penetrated my mind.
My heart was pounding.....quickly,
I grabbed my pen and paper, and,
Thereupon, my brain seemed to have been ignited,
Ideas started flowing without end...
It was early morning when I turned off my lamp.

Night after night since then,
Or any time of day for that matter,
This God-given gift comes, we meet...
I hold my pen and paper, as I wait
For this lovely tune to bring out once again
The poet, the storyteller in me.....

Sally



Copyright 2013
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan