Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
082021

Mas malalim pa ang gabi
Kaysa sa aking mga matang alikabok ang tinta.
Ang mga kulisap at kuliglig
Ay nagtatagisan ng mga boses
At sabay-sabay na nakikipagtalastasan
Kung kanino ba papanig
Ang buwang hugis pamato sa larong kalye.

Sinasabi nilang ang aming lugar ay dating liblib
Noong panahon pa ng mga Hapones.
Kaya’t nagbakasali akong
Kaya ko silang paniwalaan
Pagkat ni minsa’y hindi naman ako
Nakapagpantig ng mga salitang
Nakakahon sa iisang pangungusap.

Natatandaan ko pa ngang
Sa tuwing tumatanghod ako
Sa aming bintana sa umaga’y
Sabay ding magsisiingay ang nagtitinda ng taho
At nambabato ng dyaryo
Patungo sa aming pintuan.

Si Inay ay gagayak para sa bagong balita,
Habang ako’y gagayahin ang sigaw ni Manong
At titikim ng paborito kong agahan at panghimagas.

Habang sya’y papalapit
Ay kusang malalagas
Ang mga pakpak ng kanyang tsinelas
At kanyang ilalapag ang papel na inilimbag daw
Sa pabrika ng kanyang kaklase noon
Na anak-mayaman.

Sa isip ko’y nais ko sanang masiyasat rin
Ang mga letrang nakatambad sa aking harapan
At bigyang buhay ang mga papel
At baka sakaling,
Maging bihasa rin ako gaya ng iba.

Kung sabagay, ang lahat naman ng aking mithiin
Ay kusang maglalaho
Kasabay ng aking mga panagip.
Ang lahat naman ng nasisinagan ng apoy
Ay maya-maya ring magpapalamon
At magpapaubaya
Sa kadilimang bunsod ng panahong
May paulit-ulit na panimula’t katapusan.

Sabagay, ang lahat nama’y
Magmimistulang pandagdag lasa na lamang
Sa nanlilomos na alab at nagmimitsang pagpapaalam.

Naubos na ang bawat pahina
Ngunit di ko man lamang nagawang simulan
Ang pangangalap kung nasaan na ba si Itay.
Saan nga ba ang aming magiging tagpuan?
Saan at kailan nga ba ang hangin
Ang mismong sasabay sa aking paghikbi nang walang katapusan?
Glenn Currier Aug 2021
June bugs crash into screens
mosquitoes whine
to get in by any means
dogs howl, frogs croak
like the bass fiddle
in Lightning Hopkins’ blues.
Sticky moisture from the bayou
envelopes, and soaks through,
permeates still night air
like the sad strains of Claude’s La Mer.

Growing up in southern climes
slowed days, stretched years
put me on the edge of tears
yearning for escape from there
from dominion of church
and Mama’s monarch perch.

Hints of her softness
were so rare and spare
that when she let us smooth her hair
we forgot how parched were we
for a trace of this tender intimacy
on summer nights’ scorch
spent on our homestead porch.
Before the advent of air conditioning families, especially children, spent lots of time on their front porches. This poem is an attempt to describe the experiences there of one little Cajun-French girl. This is the second of the Teche Series of poems inspired by the memoir of my cousin, Melanie Durand Grossman,  "Crossing Bayou Teche."
Where do you go
When the comforts that you thought you knew
Start to shatter like a glass of bitter whiskey
Underneath the weight of all the epiphanies

That perhaps you will never truly have
Anywhere to call home.
And you can only wander endlessly
As you walk out

Trying not to look back
As the familiarity tries to pull you in with its stinging warmth.
If one day maybe
They'll have the heart to accept you despite it all.

There you go again leaving everything behind.

But at this point, it's simply second nature to you isn't it?

-Kore
*******.
Taylor St Onge Aug 2021
I am soft and mandible:  
          fresh clay,         the inside of an oyster,        the belly of an armadillo.  
          vulnerable.                      tender.  ­                             the anti-sharp.

everything is blurred.  dulled.  hidden
behind a gossamer haze and ambient noise.  
a photo out of focus.            one eye closed and ten feet back.  

dizzy.            so dizzy.            disoriented.  
there is no logic here.             no rules.             no laws.  
and that’s what makes it horrible and incomprehensible.  

the transplant recipient still dies.  the man in perfect health
                                                                ­suddenly has cancer.
the proned patient flipped back to supine for intubation
                                                codes and dies immediately.  

nonsense.  it’s all nonsense.  
it's easier to take a breath and
                                                        compartmentalize.
write your grief, prompt #11: How has this loss made things feel sharp?
Sally A Bayan Aug 2021
(Be Relevant)


By a beading table, is where i sit,
a few steps across a desktop corner,
a sky-lighted, cozy space, a vantage
point where i see and hear clearly, as
i'm easily heard and seen...close to
the kitchen, where home scenes and
sounds...and scents of home-made
food, inspire and influence creativity.

here is where i mend torn garments,
repair anything that must be mended.
here, i'm found when my presence,
my sentiments and advice are sought,
when they ask what's for dinner, or,
just wanna hug...reasons for one's
existence, speak loud, just as my
thoughts...speak loud, too.

"is this why i'm here in this world?
why i was created here, and not in
other livable spaces in the universe?"

purposes and roles come to mind,
when hope is nowhere, and thoughts  
of an ungrateful world, an ungrateful
surrounding, drag on...

while the rest are still hushed by
the twilight of dawn, my eyes are
half-closed, but the mind is already
up and about...deaf and blind to
disappointments and frustrations,
oblivious to estrangements,
because,
family...is always a priority.

no arguments, just a choice...to
live through this purpose-driven life,

to be relevant,

to be involved, to be a part of the
whole...as long as time allows.  

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

sally b

© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
    August 15, 2021
Happy Sunday everyone!
I miss you all.
May happy thoughts prevail on this rainy August morning <3
ShininGale Aug 2021
𝘛𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘮𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬,
𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘻𝘪𝘱.

𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘦𝘢,
𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦...

𝘔𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳,
𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳.
0801502021012000AM
Hi, I was planning to post during my first day of class...I just wanna say, thank God I am finally a Psych-student!

Back to the poetry, I don't know how to express nor feel, I just feel like I need to be better and have more courage to face my feelings and thoughts. I was literally feeling something and was planning to hide it because I already know that I have no one I can share this "for now" but in the end I still tried. Pardon me for the unclarity but the rest is in my head HAHA what I mean is you my self knows the rest of the story. Peacee, I promise to have more moments with you all.

I hope you're always having a great day!
all the **** from your mouth that you thought was inspiring
slowly broke me down until my hope was expiring
never opened my mouth to come back with inquiries
just kept my head down and wrote my thoughts in a diary
and you read it, pathetic,
invading my privacy
called me out for feigning sadness and my ‘bogus’ anxiety
cause “im a better dad than mine so shut up and be quiet kid”
“you’re lucky im the head of this dysfunctional dynasty”
well congratulations dad, you’ve earned notoriety
for forcing my respect in the form of compliancy
and disbelieving science and the facts of psychiatry
so i ran away from home to join the freaks of society
where else could i escape from your emotional piracy?
Angelo Aug 2021
Words can cause happiness unlike any other
Words can cause distraught of the worst kind
Words can comfort those we hold dear
Words can anguish those we hate
Words can express our deepest convictions
Words can express our darkest opinions
Words can help those who listen
Words can hurt all who listen
Words can be easy to blurt out
Words can never be fully taken back
Words can make someone smile
Words can force one into exile
Words can save a person's life
Words can hang a person's throat
Words can affect one more than we imagine
Words can affect one more than we imagine
Words can speak truths
Words can tell lies
Words can help you relax
Words can give you panic attacks
Words can convey love and care
Words can leave you filled with guilt and dread

It doesn't matter what and how you said it
Those words have now injured me so
And a fool that I was, to think you could understand
That I cannot find the words to describe the pain I've felt
That I cannot find the words that mention what my mind feels like
That I cannot find the words to fight back your yells
That I cannot find the words that explain why I act this way
That I cannot find the words that say how you hurt me
That I cannot find the words that you used to compliment me
Although this last one might be, because they never were there to begin with

Alas, no words come out when I need them the most
But I don't care anymore
As I know no matter what words I might say
You will only see the words that you want to see
Even if they came from you, and not me
That's how it will always be
An apple doesn't fall far from the tree
Just had my first panic attack because of words of anger. Needed to vent.
Next page