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some moths dare
hang around a light,
dim, peeping....a lone
terra cotta lamp........not
bright guide a
journeying mind.....through
some dark
more  lamps could help stop the
tripping..... .on life's many humps,
it makes the air....stale......with sighs,
uncomfortably moist, with  cold sweat
the window curtains are a shield, a weak
wall, pregnant  with longing
and apprehension.......soon
it will collapse, more moths
will fly free........the fleeing
the healing.......could make
nights longer...........the air this dark
Evening rain  showers  merge with the
humid air.......the strong scent of the
growing pine tree...the scarce light
the aroma of chicken, simmering
in a mix of vinegar, soy  sauce
...............garlic and spices
penetrate my nostrils and
infuse the atmosphere,
and.....disconcert  me
i'm taken back, i gulp
i salivate...a late solo
of  wine.......beckons
i give in....i sit by the
garden table.......raise
my wine glass.......i say
.................not so full moon shy............and hazy
as i hum....Patsy Cline's, "Crazy."
::::Sunday moon, May 1, 2016:::::


Cop­yright May 1, 2016
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan older poem, edited...
just recalling some night...the moon of more than a year ago....and the food on the table that night...
a poem shaped like my terra cotta lamp in the garden
I reach my hands to touch you
in the worst parts
that you want
but i dont
but you do
but we dont
but we do-
the silence creeping in
just enough to rip my hands
onto you
and onto where you want them to,
heavy hands
heavy breaths
in and out,
tongue twisted between lips
and bad lies,
heart brokenness underneath blankets
and blankets of desire
piled on top of hormonic lusts-

I say that i'm sorry

i'm sorry that i don't love you enough to mean
i'm sorry
and to take away the heaviness
weighing down upon my lips
as they quiver and shake
because i regret getting in the car in the first place.
gorgeous doesn't
do you
when I just wished for the chorus
singing our lousy song, I
stayed up late with it
counted the sheep
they fell asleep
clutching the sheets
stop thinking there's a
quit pouring that red-cheek idea
down your throat
a few more
the song should end soon
sore knee love
should end soon
professional pretender
bending blinks
more drinks, bartender
loving you gets
I'm paying with my
I'm being lied to by sunlight
cause I can't trust anything
after it leaves
you are
more than your surroundings;
          surge of
columnar star c a i r n
threading through the age of rock and mineral,
of light hangs
in the balance.

it will
have its say.
epoch of concatenation: stair of
    elements spelled out long ago,
containing within it::
tiny trace of
the were.

in the tired eyes
of those few thoughtful people that are left
                     in, this, our wasteland, now birthing
                   arcane, again:

a new time comes;
feel it writhe forth origin.
dm micklow
It's too late now, the damage is done.
A deal has been won,
My heart for your soul.
 Jan 2016 Sumina Thapaliya
MS Lim
Words --polished by the shine of the moon and stars
strengthened by the hardest of stone
words the alpha, words the omega
each word triumphs on its own.

Let every word ennoble
and kindle the heart
let none cast a dark shadow or blemish
at the end as at the start.
* inspired by Yellow Moonstone, a fellow-writer in HP
I spoke first to her
there wasn't any conversation
there wasn't any blurr
and all that thing

peaceful, easeful
never worrying

I realized
was this wise
to give response
to her advice…?

my man and all
stayed standing tall
watching us one day to fall
a greatest mistake
since we weren't rollin' the ball

he kicked his head to our wall
he was waiting till I'll fall

surprisingly I grew tall
not the ball nor the wall
but I and my all

I loved him to the brim
I still love him easiest as gym
I still do keep loving him
since he has learned me to swim

when I spoke to him
it was war or peace
still I filled my tea cup with such ease
patiently to the brim
I must admit caring for him
I still do, I love it but feel great pity

leaving her
was my greatest woe
my life in tears
from head to toe
she kept calling and writing to me
her beautiful poetry

I had greatest silence
during our absence
only my soliloquy
I realized I had fallen in love
with her

if you have read her
you would agree with me

her poetry is her everything
but she became my only thing

she said latest days
poetry is my everything
none understands except thee
(Oh, how flattered I was !! In seventh heaven)

Then she continued:
but my love for thee
is above all things
beyond eternity
and above my poetry

(Am crying of happiness)
now at last I must confess
she is my most
beautiful princess 
I ever possessed 
My Poetess....

© Sylvia Frances Chan
she exists really, my life seems more complete with her poetry, greatest is her Passion, as she oft says, but above all, her proper life and I stand tall, those words were all she said and all.
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