.
There is a presence here,
can't you feel it crackling
through the evening air?
Creeping into the mind
as an invasion by consent.

A candle flame flickers
as an errant string thrums,
a note of announcement
and precedent to an army
set to join the invasion.

There is a presence here,
can't you feel it cloying
at open waiting ears,
seeping over the babble
as an intrusion most welcome.

A chord breaks silence
as a voice slow gently hums
a prelude to old new songs,
an accompaniment to a jangle
as the errant string conforms.

There is a presence here,
can't you hear it calling
to the blood in your veins,
freezing the moments solid,
speaking at corpuscular levels.

An excitement of particles
agitate an expectant atmosphere,
curved air starts to resonate
an apocryphal truism that
there is a Presence … here.


© Pagan Paul (15/01/20)

:::::

This afternoon gets warmer by the hour,
weird, sweaty, sere ground.....no water,
not even a shy wind to blow a feather
an unwanted restrain....very much, a tether
senses seem numbed.....unaware,
:::::

suddenly,
clouds part....in a flick of a finger,
a bolt of lightning.....then, roars the thunder
sweet energy cracks in a simple quiver
:::::

tap ruptures........rain pours
releasing scent of sweet petrichor
withered soil and rain unite
nourishing roses...yellow, pink, white
soul is sparked....instantly inspired
::::::

suddenly,
eyes and mind are drunk, yet, they concur
bulging with ideas and images without blur
all are energized by the miraculous rainwater
:::::

suddenly,
behind the wet bushes, an open mic unfolds,
frogs' croaks alternate with lizards' call...behold,
up the trees, crickets, katydids sing relentlessly
ahhh, a kind wind....it's a bit colder...finally
:::::

where sun dips, and beyond...amidst a cold
dark, a slam poetry session is live, where the bold
one's hiss, shriek, or sing in monotones...no rules,
all do their thing at the same time.......like fools.
:::::

rain has stopped, folks are out, taking it easy
............mosquitoes are ever ready
this night.....could really be ****** :)
:::::


Sally

© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
    October 6, 2018---

I still don't know what poem to write!
Write about the black man's plight?
Nah, oversaturated and a little too light.
So, ... We'll scratch that.

After this maybe someone will match that.
But seriously, maybe about me.
But I'm not free or open
And you don't wanna hear about how
I'm 24 years old and spent the last 12 smokin'
Ya probably think I'm joking.

But seriously,
Some would call this this writer's block.
Then what am I doing up here
Just wasting my 15 seconds of fame
Before I leave ashamed
Drowning my pain in a bottle
Of someone else's Success?

So who will it be tonight?
Jack, Remy or Jimmy?
But before I go
Do me a favor
Please applaud.

So I don't slump into a depression,
upon realizing my pocket's recession
So a flew claps can sway my pain
So please do me that favor
And don't let me leave ashamed!

Torn newspapers
littering the sunset
idle cranes lining the guilty sky
by the glowing harbor
Open mic night
you walk in
to the room
& no-one notices
except me
& your friend
invisible, until you read
& your voice is like an epiphany
the homeless man outside
is singing a tune
perhaps
perhaps a little child
somewhere is falling asleep
in her mother's arms
perhaps somewhere
love is being found
but between us
there is only silence
& you do not even know
that it is me
in front of you
& if you did
it would be worse
because
my ragged heart
for you is something
to be scarred