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Sally A Bayan Apr 10
(haiku x 3)

Life is a river
we swim, we drift...a cycle
of rising....falling.

equanimity
is ******* soft riverbed
we reel....sometimes drown,

we give up, they dry
we fight...we breathe....rivers flow!
ripples do follow.

Sally
Copyright March 2015
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
(Wrote this a long time ago, and while writing, I thought of a fellow poet, our good  friend, Harlon Rivers.)
harlon rivers Oct 2017
You followed down through the gathered pages
to the  labyrinth that leads back through the changes
A long and twisted line of unmapped rivers,
*** holed low-roads and tattered mileposts
glancing homeless back-alleys as dark as lonely crossroads

Past the broken wings that fell from skyward treetops
scattered feathers amongst rose petals wilted
at the hand of tear stained faded photos
of frozen black and white faces;
hidden ghosts in the closet that fell from grace

The pathway narrows where the traces dissipate
passing under burning bridges, beneath locked stairwells
A fickle feather floating upon rivers ragging
like the hubris disconnectedness of time rolling out to sea ―
Shadows growing darkest as you reach the blackest silence
and you kept the answers to all the questions at arms length
hidden in the darkness ― where you saw love disfigure me

It was then and there I knew I'd dreamed of someone like you
looking for someone more than I could ever be
Just an unsated curiosity,    trying to see beyond
your own misunderstanding,   to feel and touch
an unknown depth beyond  reach

As sunset pales the distantness, the night is yours alone
when  tomorrow's  morning  rain
hangs  on  the  falling  leaves       ―       I’ll  be  gone
Just a wayfaring loner in a lonely world

Where rivers are only water
                                         and love was once a flowing river
I thirst to swallow ― 
                                         to wash away these tracks of my tears ...


                                      rivers ... 2017
Post Script:

'I can't remember all the times I tried to tell my myself
To hold on to these moments as they pass'
nod to Counting Crows---Long December

Giving up and letting go are different
and yet the results are often the same;
at the end of the day you realize,
the things you thought mattered ―
and it’s easier being lonely ... alone

"I tried so hard and got so far but in the end it doesn't even matter." Chester Bennington. (2017) RIP

The tracks of my tears
Written by:  h.a. rivers

— The End —