(fourteen lines)

Their faces and tiny fingers filled my cupped hands
but, they're all grown now...on their own, they strive to stand
and hold shape...further from my warm hands...
still, they're shielded from whatever is harmful out there
rain or shine, they're raised high, safe from  murky water
somehow, it seems, i can't contain them much longer
but...they don't have to know
carefully, quietly, i will have to let go
here...today... i open my palms wide
my fears, my reservations, i put aside
and  from my cupped hands, down...they glide
like toddlers, shrieking while they slide
spilling continuously...like sand
leaving me...with empty hands.

Sally


*****

Copyright June 2015
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

Scent...

............is a spray  
of sweet, nagging fragrance,
borne by a rush of air,
touching nostrils as it travels,
to stimulate, and scintillate
a parade of memories,
especially, when distance is great
and truly separates...
::::::::::
could be from a bouquet of roses,
or a handful of jasmine...or,
the welcome smell of cinnamon, sage,
other spices...elements of what we call,
the fragrances of good cooking...or,
those of sweat and a fruity cologne,
blending, while working,
from caring....from loving...
::::::::::
it's a brush of summer wind
that captures, even a bit of a sniff
of any, or all of these scents...
::::::::::
these smells dwell in the senses
they reassure...that one person is never away
fears are held at bay...you're okay,
it brings calm to one's soul...
::::::::::
the nose...the other senses know,
the heart and the mind know
the source of all
these fragrances...
::::::::::
no perfume could ever equal
the scent(s) of a woman...
::::::::::

Sally



Copyright Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
January 30, 2018

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY TO ALL MOTHERS
AND GRANDMOTHERS !!!

...is a spray  
of sweet, nagging fragrance
borne by a rush of air
it touches nostrils as it travels,
to stimulate, and to scintillate
the flashing of memories
especially, when distance is great
and truly separates...

it could be the bouquet of a single rose,
or a handful of jasmine....or,
the welcome smell of cinnamon,
sage, nutmeg and other spices that
bring out the fragrances of good cooking,
or those of sweat and a fruity cologne
blending while working
from caring....from loving.
::::::::::::
it's a brush of summer wind
that captures, even a bit of a sniff
of any, or all of those scents.
:::::::::::::
a smell so pleasant
that dwells in the senses
and brings calm to one's soul.

the nose...the other senses know,
the heart and the mind know
the summation
of all these fragrances.
:::::::::::::::
no perfume could ever equal
the scent(s) of a woman.
:::::::::::::::


Sally

Copyright January 30, 2018---10:40 PM
rrab

(A Five-in-One...)

The seasons have been dreary,
My eyes are now weary...
I have read a lot, though i still read...
peace, following a good deed
seems so far-fetched..
though the days have stretched...
a tiny voice, i hear...
a whisper, and i quiver
telling me of malcontent...asking me what i want
what i am looking for...for long, not just this instant
there's time, it said
of a road i must tread...
something is lacking
can't explain this wanting...
it unsettles,
i end up in frazzles...
a feeling of vacuity arises
signals the inception of crises,
even more magnified ......
as i search my heart deep inside
looking through my soul
almost sure to find a hole
it must have been rended
waiting, to be mended
must patch it up with new beginnings,
anticipating enhanced endings...
these thoughts leave me with a sigh, questioning,
one that is continuing... never ending...

WHAT MUST I DO?
WHERE DO I GO?
HOW FAR?

NO GREAT LAUGHS LATELY...
ALL EMPTY, THESE  ROARS AND GIGGLES...

MISSING THOSE BEAMS...
MY INNER SMILES OF JOY
PEACE, CONTENTMENT...

far...or near
by air, land or sea,
i shall travel that road
i must seek the light,
the voice,
the answer...
to give way to
the winter of my discontent...

Sally

Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

They're often cliched, yet always uttered
the real essence of the quote, "life is short."
struck me, as i was clearing my jaded eyes...

the “winter of life” is how they call it,
when your numbers are higher than those
on the calendar...when doing the stairs
shouldn’t be rushed, for, slowing down
is not a choice...but, a must.
:::::
despite challenges and changes that
overwhelm, there's this sprightly feeling
that still breathes within, like second skin,
as short hair, sneakers, skinny jeans and
t-shirts are to me...age hasn't weakened
this longing for adventure, this wanderlust,
unaffected by tedious procedures and
long queues at the airport...
:::::::
like a cat...i purr not, while exploring,
Yet, always wary in the midst of curiosity...
still wondering what's beyond the fence, or,
how to cross traditions, or, sensitive issues,
without displeasing, or hitting a raw nerve...
::::::
much to do,
much to see, but
   not much time...
::::::
at this point in my life, i feel, life is short(er)
the weeks, the months could be no longer
days turn foggier, or hazier, yet, it's not at all winter,
here, in my own space, it's always summer, where
short hair, jeans, tshirts, and sneakers are bestsellers,
where numbers, wrinkles and sags don't really matter...
:::::::::::::



Sally
© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
January 3, 2020

Seasons Changing
  (14X10)


First five months, things are taken in stride, everything easy,
One day at a time...summer sun makes me lazy...
June, July, and August are unpredictably sunny, rainy or stormy...
Days start to become dreary, the downpour affects me deeply
Yet, my heart beats faster now...these months stir anxiety,
Reminders come regularly now, as the hours pass by swiftly...
Expectations, rising... I meet September winds with much longing,
As I count the hours, the days, the weeks approaching...
The moment is here...busy October has gone, finally over,
I feel the chilly winds of December, in early November...
My whole body shivers, almost surrendering to this bursting cold,
As a blanket warms me and my socks-wrapped frozen toes...
Autumn colors, snowy sights, and freezing nights overcome me...
But somber thoughts, moments, travel with me, on this evening flight.



Sally

Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

⚡️🌧🍁🍂🎄

July was a sweet surprise...half way into August, and the
next fifteen days...proved to be a ghost month....its days,
painted with somber colors, and difficult times, the hours
moved slowest, the sun hesitated to shine this September.
October is uncertain.....definitely, apple pie and cinnamon
scented winds will blow.....November's cheers shall segue
into the last thirty one days of the year....December is the
busiest month, a perfect time to put on hold, sadness and
pain...a frail, fragile joy, dormant as a Rose bush in winter,
shall rest, to breathe again, to bloom again in early Spring.




Sally

Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
September 19, 2020

(fourteen lines).....

It could be a gentle breeze...it could be a mist
Sometimes, it's a whiff of patchouli
Oftentimes, it comes so strong
Like drops...or splotches of pure lavender oil
On my collar, my sleeves, on my chest, especially
......where it feels so close to my heart<3
At night, it is a moth flying past my cheeks
The softest voice carressing my ears
For, it is light....as whisp'ry cloth
Almost like an invisible touch
A quick, transparent passing of sweet air
That clings to my being,
I wear it upon...and within me
Your scent.....is my second skin...


Sally


Copyright February 3, 2016
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

<3 <3 <3

She enjoys her morning espresso
while he savors his mug of cappuccino

she shapes his dimpled face
in her newly wakened mind
he imagines her big brown eyes
gazing like a buck...inquiring, yet dreamy

she hums a lover's lullaby, for him,
each morning, before leaving,
he lets his charcoal pencil play
on his ever ready sketch pads
draws her face with pixie haircut

they think of each other day and night
always......at the very same time

yet...not a word is said when their eyes
meet...not an effort done, to break the ice
they'd rather keep things within,
their coffee mugs...witnesses,
to their similar daily practices

what a shame...what a waste!

their elbows, their arms touch in haste
as they hurry....towards the quay,
the ferryboat takes long, they both wait
leaving their untold love go by
along with their unsung lullaby...

it happens daily...without fail
their feelings, bubbling as they sail
but...neither has the guts to bare

how could they let life go on this way?
content with just a secret love affair...
<3 <3 <3


Sally

© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
April 5, 2018

🌑🌑🌑

Overworked fans
give out warm air
this uncomfortable
early evening.

Just a few sparkles
in the sky, no moon...just
a humid silence that hovers.
outside, silhouettes are
quickly gobbled up by
a great dark.

There's a slight wind
whirring....while
pink lightning
slashes the sky.

Finally, slow, persistent
showers tap on the roof,
September rains cool
this super hot night.

On the table, i see peanuts,
an empty wine glass, and
a chilled bottle of Rose...the
aroma of steamed pompano,
stuffed with onions, tomatoes,
ginger and pepper.....invade
every corner of the house.


sally b

© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
    September 8, 2023

:::::::::::::: 🎼 🎷🎷🎷🎼 :::::::::::::


Late hours of a Saturday night,
the shadowed man
toyed with his sax, and played
a beautiful excerpt from,
"Silhouettes,"
soon, it skillfully...beautifully
segued to its main piece,
"It Was Almost Like A Song."

the space was scarcely lighted,
there were whispers, yet, all listened.
eyes were glued to the darkened face
of the shadowed man.
they hummed,
as they held their glasses of wine.
some softly sang the lyrics.

the pieces he played each night,
were journeys,
he took his audience
cruising along a boulevard,
drenched with the blues.
that unfathomable sadness
in his eyes spoke
of a brokenness,
louder...than words.

there in the dark, as he played his sad
songs, a face always accompanied him,
a face he longed to see,
somewhere in a cold place,
who had so much love
and warmth in her heart.

while he finds comfort in the shadows,
he often asks himself,
"until when will i be playing this song ?
until when, will i be,
in the shadows?"
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
:::::::::::­::: 🎼 🎷🎷🎷🎼 :::::::::::::

sally b

© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
April 28, 2021
#sax #silhouettes #almostlikeasong #shadowedman

(haiku x 4)



Sun hides...dips lower
Moon and stars deck the dark sky
Dusk is upon us

Lights.....softly glowing
Drawn curtains are a pale screen
Casting drooping forms...

Voices fill the air
Night, patiently hears the moans
Shame fades at dusk...for,

Dark unites shadows
Cicadas join the whimpers
Wind...comforts the soul...


Sally

Copyright February 2015
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

Memories of this lady never leave my mind.
she wasn't a rider, but acted better than one,
riding high above many hurdles in life...fear
never took her away from her responsibilities...

when the fuse in the main switch gave
way, and dimmed the old house, this lady
braved the dark...armed with a flashlight
and pliers, she replaced the burnt fuse with
a new one and brought light back.....each
time the old-fashioned flat iron overheated,
she easily replaced the glass-like insulator  
inside, so it could right away be used again...

whatever needed repair---garment, tools,
the fence, the house...ripped, or with holes,
she mended and patched...even blind-hemmed
a torn relationship once...yes, she mended
cracks...was always in the midst of broken
vases, gluing pieces back together, so she
may put water and lovely flowers in it...

nothing was impossible for this gentle lady...
she moved mountains for her loved ones,
always persevering and ingenious, life
became less difficult...she painted their
young minds with a mix of hues,
so they may appreciate and be
grateful for rainbows and yellow sunrises,
learn to accept black, gray, unhappy moments,
and be thrilled by fiery orange sunsets....

this lady is indispensable...and irreplaceable,
SHE, and others like her, are called mama,
muter, mom, mum, majka, inay/nanay, mae,
matka, madre, mom....ahh, the list is long...


Sally

Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
May, 8, 2020

I see them everyday, rain or shine,
Beautifully lined in a row.
They all stand tall, mighty and proud,
To prove who the mightiest is.
And yet...they are always so,
So graceful in all their might.

As they wave to us,
We, too, Wave our Hands By the Lake.
While Expanding our Chests,
A cool breeze
Brush against our faces.
Our eyes  follow our hands in
Painting a Rainbow.

The morning sun seemed not too bright that day.
The branches and twigs above us were
Intertwined, like two lovers' hands
Laced with each other.
In Parting the Clouds, we bring light
Into our visions, our minds, our lives.
We let go, focus on what's ahead of us,
While Weaving Silk In The Air.....

And in Rowing the Boat, we revive ourselves
With a breath of new life....
We reach to the Heavens to offer
Our healing palms when Sage Presents Peach.
Our spirits are lifted, we see light in
The dark, as we Gaze At The Moon.

From above, the wind blows,
The leaves touching ...caressing, as the
Wind Rustle Lotus Leaves....we give
Our healing touch to all that surround us...
Their movements and ours flow
While Waving our Hands In the Clouds,
Scooping The Sea, and Viewing the Sky once again...

Rolling With the Waves, a  time when our healing
Energies combine with the powers of the water....
When the Dove Spreads Its Wings, we open our arms,
Embrace these blessings, we share them as well....
The restlessness in our mind and spirit, is
Now hushed by the healing silence.

The Dragon Emerging From the Sea, unites
The breath, the  heart and the spirit...
We now prepare for The Flying Wild Goose,
We raise our arms, getting ready
To let go, to let ourselves be.....

With palms facing each other, they
Circle up, sideways and down, resembling
Windmills Turning In the Breeze. We balance
Our weight on each foot, like Bouncing Ball
In The Sunshine, enjoying stability deep within us...
And as Nature's Fragrance Drifts Up,
We take in the many gifts that surround us...
We are now energized........

We knew our movements by heart,
Did each one with grace,
To the beat of the swaying above us,
We forgot all our worries....
We forgot all about time....

Suddenly, flecks of tiny petals started
Falling over our heads....
Like a shower from Heaven.
It was time to bow our heads, in thanksgiving,
For all the countless blessings.
Eventually, the ground was covered
With green and gold.

Once more, I looked up to the Heavens
With much gratitude....
I thanked the two big shady trees
That sheltered us...
They were two lovers....
The ******* and Narra trees...........

Sally A. Bayan

Note:

Shibashi is one of the many movements of Chi-Kung.
It is composed of 18 healing movements.
The notes on the movements were taken from the
personal journals of a Franciscan nun, alive to this day, and the mentor of my own mentor.

------Cassia Fistula is the scientific name of the ******* tree.
------Pterocapus Indicus is the scientific name of the Narra tree.



Copyright 2013
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

/ //| \ \ \
/ / /  | | | \  \ \
/ / / /|/||| \ \ \
/ / /   / / / /   |||\\\

I am underneath,
My eyes closed
Its warmth cascading,
Refreshing,
Alleviating,
My soul, reflecting,
Its touch, soothing,
Cooling
Calming
So relaxing
I am extending,
For my blues, I'm chasing,
Away~~~with the water flowing
My pain...disappearing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~­~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
SHOWER  THERAPY

   by

  Sally

      Copyright 2013
     Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

(a repost...from 2013)

/ //| \ \ \
/ / /  | | | \  \ \
/ / / /|/||| \ \ \
/ / /   / | \|\ \\

I am underneath
My eyes closed
Its warmth cascading
Refreshing
Alleviating
My soul, reflecting
Its touch, soothing
Cooling
Calming
So relaxing
I am extending
For my blues, I'm chasing,
Away~~~with the water flowing
My pain...disappearing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~­­~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
SHOWER  THERAPY

   by

  Sally

      Copyright 2013
     Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

They dwell somewhere underneath,
hidden, as they patiently tread, in measured
crawls...or flights, when starting to work.

i've seen them before in their other journeys,
these often despised creators of hardened,
paths...straight, sometimes crooked lines
inconspicuously appearing on ashen,
concrete and creviced walls,
especially on wooden furniture
and on live heartwood trees.

they've been working continuously
for months now....these reddish lines, rising
from the huge base of the Narra tree, are
tendril-like tunnels...spreading wider
for all their purposes.

yet...these silent destroyers,
could not even penetrate the tree,
all they could do was move upwards,
and patch the trunk
with their muddy creations

to make things worse,
ants from a nearby towering  tree,
crossed over their tunnels
and ate them alive.

the impenetrable Narra tree, stands
unaffected by its "invaders"...swelling
even more with golden yellow flowers
falling on our heads,
falling on the ground.


Sally

Copyright April 29, 2017
Rosalia Rosario A. Bay

(On Moonlit Nights)

While others are busy jingle bell-ing
and Christmas tree-gazing,
i have wrapped myself, for
i am going back...
remembering anew
how it is to walk
under a star-laden Christmas sky
these tree-shrouded paths
leading to the sea...
alone and unafraid,
somehow, still hoping,
to feel your hand, holding mine...

Reliving once again
magical moments with thee,
silhouettes...of you and me.

This Christmas night...i walk
these paved shrouded paths.
i am desperately awaiting your presence,
for your body to be next to mine...
the blowing wind roars, and ends
as a soft sea breeze...
though it still stirs,
i feel a warm breath near my face...
my heart leaps.....then settles down
for, there's no one there when i turn to look...
a dream, you have become.
i see just a tall, bended shadow,
reaching down
to cover my shoulders
on this cold, cold night,
to caress my head,
cloaking me, shielding me.
this tree,
this silhouette,
will once again shelter me
on this, another moonlit night,
lonely and wasted,
for I am
without thee.

(October 13, 2013---6:09 AM)

Sally

Copyright 2013
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayann

(Black Tide)

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


sally b


© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
October 17, 2017

( Filipino orTagalog version)

di sumasapit ang pagtulog
sa isang kaluluwang
sabik at di mapakali
isang pusong ubod tiyaga
ngayo'y balisang tumitibok
sa kabila ng malumanay
na pag patak ng ulan...

sa kaunting salitang nagbibigay kasiyahan
parang simoy ng hangin, may mga dalang palamuti
mga matatamis na pangako ng
maluwalhating bukas,
lumutang sa kapaligiran
at binago ang malamlam na
lagay ng kalooban.
ang mga darating na araw
ay muling yayabong.

isang kaluluwang hapong hapo
di-inaasaha'y, napangiti
sa unang pagkakataon
mga matatamis na tunog ng mahihinang
halakhak ay paulit-ulit na tumaginting
sa kalaliman ng gabi.

itong di maampat-ampat na pananabik
aking panalangin ay
tuluyan nang pumayapa
dito sa dilim, ako'y nakahimlay
habang  ang mga pangarap ng pag-asa
ay alak na lumalasing sa aking pag-iisip.
kasabay ng pagdatal ng madaling-araw,
nabubuhay na lalo ang mga bagong isipin
na lalong nagpapasigla sa aking utak...

mulat na mulat ang aking mga mata
di na sasapit pa ang antok
di na sasapit pa ang pagtulog...

::::::::::

(ENGLISH VERSION)

SLEEP DOESN'T COME...

Sleep doesn’t come
To an eager, restless soul.
A heart so patient
now beats anxiously,
Even with the gentle rhythm
Of raindrops tapping.

With just a few satisfying words
Sprinkled with whiffs of hope,
So magical,
A promise of a glorious tomorrow
Floated in the air
And altered the somber mood.
The coming days are to flourish
Once more.

Unexpectedly,
A soul gone weary
Smiled for the first time.
The sweet sound of soft laughter
Unheard in the still of the night.

This insatiable needing
I pray, to be quelled soon..
Here in the dark, I lay awake,
As visions of hope inebriate my mind.
With dawn comes new ideas,
Stimulating my brain even more..

.......my eyes are wide open........
.......sleep wouldn’t come at all……


       Sally

            Copyright 2014
       Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

(Reach Out!)


Carols and cold winter whispers
Fill the snowy atmosphere
Curtain sparkles,
trees and lanterns
Bring light in these times of short nights,
Short tempers, when expected moments are nigh
And away, they suddenly fly...
Think "warm," think thousands of fireflies
Let us have a much needed rest
From WARS, DEATH, pain, bitterness, sadness
For now, forget anger, revenge, despair, hatred, sorrow
Think away from us, far from ourselves, let our minds roam
Let our minds gravitate towards the children of the world
Their innocent smiles, lost in this cruel, mad, world...
A heart broken, is a pale comparison to those children's sufferings...
Why not let our laughter and our giggles,
With good wishes and hopeful thoughts, mingle...
Let these positive vibes fill the world, saturate the air
Let us ponder, write of happy moments, with flair...

Beam with a SMILE,
Be contagious,
Reach out,
Make the world SMILE!

We are all connected deep inside
We are seated side by side,
Everyday, we join a trip
In this vessel called
F R I E N D---S H I P.

LET US LIVE, REVIVE, AND SPREAD THE CHRISTMAS SPIRIT AND HOLIDAY CHEERS.
MERRY CHRISTMAS AND A VERY PEACEFUL NEW YEAR TO ONE AND ALL!!!

LOVE TO ALL-

Sally


Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan


^^^^^^^^^^^^^

)))) fire (((
                 is:::::::::waning  
               red::coals::dying
           the smoke climbs up to the chimney
             the smoke goes out of the chimney  
              it:::::::::::escapes
              doesn'­t:::::::::get
              to::::the::::::eyes
              jus­t::::::::::::soars
                       to::::::the::::::sky        
              joins:::::::clouds
              leaving:::::ashes­
              to::cool:::::down
              blown:::::::easily­
                             by::::a::::::strong              
              w i n d :::::::::::or
               through:::::::::::a
               metal::::::::;:pipe
                airborne:::::dust
           ­      forces::::a:::blink
                it may::it::could
                bring::::tears::to
               ­      melt::the::cloud    
                 that::::::darkens
                                               ­       eyes::and::mind                                    
                 ::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
                 it::::::is::;;;;;;:time
                 to:::::::::welcome
                  an::>>arrow::>>
                 of::fresh:::>hope
                 into::your:heart
                 never:::::let::::go
                  LIFE:is:precious
          ­       LIFE:::is:::::short
                                      inhale:­sweet:air                    
                  \::::breathe:::/
                   \::::LOVE::/
                   \::::AG:::/
                   \:::A:::/
                   \:::I::/
                   \N/
                   \/



         Sally

                     Copyright November 10, 2015
                  Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

Moods are in synch once again
with this monsoon season
raindrops come with threads of pain,
maybe there's a good reason
why pain...rhymes with rain.

there's pen and paper
here...there...everywhere
for, when rain pours
is when my poetry flows
softly weeping its woes
like ice...that quietly thaws.
::::::::
:::::
:::
::
()

sally b

© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
July 2020

(10w x 4)

SOMEBODY
Died..gave us
Our first experience
Of Unconventional
Love...

He desires His Words, be spread
His Love....be Shared...

But love without deeds never works,
..............action.....
makes the difference...

SOMEBODY
Up there...wants us
To make a big
Difference...


Sally

Copyright April 11, 2017
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

It could start with dagger looks, other times, a hug,
I'm glad they've never  been too smug,
Could be a warm tap on the shoulder
A glance would suffice to the ones older,
When little ones keep uttering, "I'm sorry."
A smile erases all their fears and worries,
Mere presence connects
In their own way, they are friends.

Afternoons find their skirts and straps sliding down
Socks and shoes are twisted, almost awry
Blouses and pony tails are in disarray
They are tired, hungry, kinda hard to sway
Sometimes it is a hard choice
Between McDonald's, or KFC
Depends on the voices
Or on the joint's proximity,
They wrestle between fries and burgers
End up with home-made fried chicken for dinner.

On weekdays, morning to afternoon
House to school, and back are the only destinations
No detours or unnecessary trips
Some think it might be too strict
But rules are a must,
Yet...one must be fair and just.

It is said, ages are just numbers, and
Sixty-six is a long way, several tiers down to
Seventeen
Fourteen
Ten,
Eight, and
Last but not least: Six!

But these five girls and I..we are next of kin,
Yet, warmth and trust bind us, like friends deep within
Some girls, they are...sharing with me the latest trends
Their faces take me to places, a journey without end
Their faces show traces...a sneer, a grin, done in style!
A lost front tooth hinders not a generous smile.
It takes a soft "Hi!" Or a light kiss,
A warm breath, a whisper, telling me I am missed
A head buried on my lap
A poker face...pouting lips that could flap.
Sometimes, it takes just a glance
We connect with mere presence!
We...are the colorful pages
In this book called
Daily Existence.

Sally

Copyright February 2015
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

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

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

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

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


Sally

Copyright February 10, 2018
rrab



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

It is usually nurtured with love,
Patience and understanding
Fortified with prayers
To break the shadow of fear
That it's end might
One day come.....

But, sometimes,
One becomes complacent.
Faith starts to waver...
It gets lost along the way.
Focus is disrupted....
Indifference sets in,
Spaces grow in between
In no time at all.

Sometimes,
The other's  burning desire
Does not suffice...
The effort is inadequate.

Sometimes,
One has to face the inevitable.
Sometimes,
One has to accept
The death of a marriage.....

Sally



Copyright 2013
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

(of Solomon)


On starry nights,
i think of the comets and meteors
that graced the starlit skies of past nights,
of falling stars, as i uttered my wishes,
and remembered sweet words spoken,
like a love song...

"you are my sun, my source of light,
my moon...my accompanying glow at night,
you are my rainbow,"
to hear you say them, was just divine...

feelings and people may not live long enough
but love....is stronger than death...

i refuse to acknowledge a lukewarm, or dying love
dwelling embers might just need to be fanned
no anger, or raging fire, must consume one's heart
after darkness from a broken heart, loss, or pain,
always comes the light...as promised by God...


* "Close your heart to every love but mine;
    hold no one in your arms but me.
Love is as powerful as death;
    passion is as strong as death itself.
It bursts into flame
and burns like a raging fire."
   *(Song of Solomon 8:6 -- Good News Translation)

(From an old poem...edited)


Sally
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
March 10, 2020

~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~
The life we live each day is a spiritual journey;
we find our places, we sit,
then we sail meditatively
on waters where the past and present play.
a chance to reflect on what to think, what to do,
a place where raging thoughts are purified,
all worries and fears are washed away.
soothing words gently rise and fall
with the waves that fill the sea,
thoughts that dwell in the steerer's mind,
a message he conveys to us, his passengers,
like a wind blowing, caressing our unsettled hearts
as crystal waters, calm and still us deep within.

At journey's end, we rise and leave the vessel, enlightened.
with endless thanksgiving, we gift our captain,
a Soul Whisperer,
his name is
Amitav Radiance.

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



Sally

Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

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

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

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

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

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



sally b

Rosalia Rosrio A. Bayan
March 24, 2022

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

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


In this present circumstance,
Where a choice must arise,
There is an enormous area,
Situated perfectly...to confuse...
It is too wide...I could just glide.

But, I hear murmurs of apprehension,
A path so dim and unclear, it causes deflection...

How do I deal with indecision?

It looks simple, like an easy way out,
Yet, I could not get through...
A quiver says, I musn't get through...
If I dare start my steps,
What would I find straight ahead?
Would I be smiling, in peace?
Would there be peace, yet, I, in pain?
If I turn to my right,
Would that be an act of propriety?
Would I be smiling in peace?
Would others be smiling, like me?
Or would they be in tears?
If I go left, will I be
******?
Cursed to perdition?
Would I still be smiling in peace?
Would I be the only one smiling?
Would I be kneeling down, lower?

Life used to be simple, without complications.
My mind, right now, is traveling through dark avenues,
And...there is only YOU, I can turn to.
Please.....I'm not that  bad,
I need your touch upon my head, your strength, to enlighten me
Grant that I may know...and accept the wisdom of pain,
Make me see the joy, derived from pain....

Take my hand, Lord,
Lead me away from these

S P A C E S
I N
B E T W E E N ...

I don't want to get lost...


Sally

COPYRIGHT 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

^ ^ ^ ^ ^

As December ended...as January
slipped in...as new year's fireworks
soared and vanished in the atmosphere,
newfound energy, renewed courage, and
fresh opportunities entered the scene.

we got to let go of old, stubborn ways
and attitudes...and welcome new perspectives,
new methods, new faces...with open minds.

in little ways, we go on celebrating...showing
gratitude for being endowed with precious life,
for birthdays...ours...our loved ones'...near or
far...we remember, with fuss...or, in silence.

February is calling
it's never too late to start over,
to open our doors to new beginnings, any
time, any day...let us enhance, let us celebrate
precious life...let us remember...let us move on.

Sally

Copyright Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
January 24, 2020

by
KARL SIMON S. CHUA


Not telling you
How many years

187 followers
Following back 144
125 total works posted here
19 persons collaborated
57 works trended (45.6%)
1 work as a daily (0.8%)

So what?

I hope I inspired
I hope I made you smile
I hope I made your days
As you all made mine

Going away
Thanks for everything....

©Karl Simon S. Chua 2015


A farewell piece from Karl Simon Chua....a fellow Filipino I am  
so proud of.  His decision to leave  HP has saddened me,
  but he has his reasons. I am sorry I could no longer
     persuade him to do otherwise.   He is a fine,
      talented poet, versatile, very  promising,
    armed with a good sense of humor.
      He definitely, will be missed.
     ---------------------------
    --------------
Sally

...it's never gone, just silent...blending,
off and on...surfacing
when at ease, or, unwinding
as grown ups....closing, opening palms
while hearing, or sharing words of wisdom...

that smiling carefree soul,
always captured...always held in awe
by colorful arches of rainbows
and swings and seesaws...
drawn to the sandy sea shore
in the spring or summer
while watching big and small kites soar
savoring freedom up in the air------
...floats upon sight of lighted Christmas trees
and red poinsettias...quivers on a cold breeze,
thrilled, when snow falls and it starts to freeze..

a fresh kicking energy within, glows,
it musn't stop....no one needs to know
about this soul...mellowed, yet young... hidden,
but not imprisoned
there're a thousand and one reasons
throughout life's alternating seasons,
the child in you and me,...must live on...


Sally

©Rosalia Rosario A. bayan
January 21, 2019