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Sally A Bayan Aug 11
On starry nights,
i think of the comets and meteors
that graced the starlit skies of past nights,
of falling stars i chased, as i uttered my wishes
before they disappeared at the far end
and somewhere out there....exploded

all these...were mine...they used to be mine
to hear you say, i was your rainbow...was divine
i was your sun, your source of light,
your moon...your accompanying glow at night... said..................

day or night, it wouldn't matter...
nothing could shield my glitter
we were bound by long strings of glowers,
ties.....that could never be severed

for, i.....was your universe.

yet....the moon, the sea and the tides,
the wind and the rain.....all connived,
all decided: for now, things musn't jibe
all worked create space
all made the earth move, on a different pace.

we used to be rich with all the things,
.....suddenly, we ran out of everything.

our world...slowly crumbled
our paths followed suit, and swerved
yes, we were clearly breathing
but, WE....had stopped existing,

promises, declarations, then uttered,
became platitudes...stale, and dead.

i am now, my own,


© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
June 3, 2016
The monsoon season is truly affecting my poetry,
this is an old,  super sad, yet, silly love poem:)
Thank you, dear ones, for bearing with me.
Ylzm Aug 5
i live an aimless life
no goals no ambitions
just wandering here and there
always on a journey

from somewhere to anywhere
going everywhere getting nowhere
with lots of money and time
life then only truly lived

always on a journey
to the moon from the deep
to the east from the west
to the poles from dancing poles

from hedonistic feasts to orgiastic flesh
from serene silence in the highest coldest peaks
to traitorous tyrant in murderous boardroom bloodbathing takeover
life's a journey and I'm loving it

only fools believe and excuse failures as a journey
This here's a sorry sight -
A wistful wisp of a mister
whispering wishful
fanciful, forced platitudes,
singing sweet nothings
masked as something poetic
or wholly magic
to the bewitching, saintly lady
laid beside me -
her heart's inside me
artistically, intricately woven
into the fibre of my being.
B-J-M Jun 2018
they say that
the centre will hold;
it's a pity
i'm not
at all
Scarlet McCall Nov 2016
Age ain’t nuthin' but a number, they said.
Only each of those numbers
means you’re one step closer to being dead.
Sure, I can still wear a short dress.
But why would I—
there’s no need to impress.
The hormones have fled, and in their stead
I have wisdom and serenity. I’ve said goodbye
to the burning desire to coax someone into bed.
Yes, I could hike the Himalayas, if I try;
but my arthritis means
every step of the way, I’d cry.
I play the guitar, but don’t get too far,
before I feel it in my elbow.
Didja notice Jimmy Page
rubs his arm?I guess he didn’t get the memo--
the one that says it’s just a number, your age.

I’m here to tell you age makes you humbler.
NO ONE my age says “age is nothing but a number.”
Numbers mean something, they add and subtract;
by the time you’re my age, you’re in your second act.
In fact the second act is closing, I’m moving on to the third—
the final act--where you’ve got to sum it all up, but, rest assured:
I’m not pining for my lost youth,
when I had better health,
but less truth.
PR re-post from a couple years ago.
Ma Cherie Sep 2016
I don't know why
you say these platitudes of goodness

Simply repeating the same thing
over and over
broken, scratching records
skipping needles
and hearts

You're not coming from a place of a pure soul and a beautiful spirit
I don't know what it is
if it's indifference,
jealousy, envy...
wishful thinking?

Well our boat is sinking
A perfect cliche
"say what you mean and mean what you say"
I can't do ambiguous

I hope you find peace with your demons
angry, gutteral enemies
dragging you to hell
at night
not kicking and screaming
you cannot find the light
from a place of selfish
egotistical narcissism and intentions to only help yourself
Good luck Chuck.

Cherie Nolan© 2016
Life and people are
Julie Grenness Aug 2015
Nurses know best,
Better than the rest,
Nurses do the basics,
Drugs for all,
Including Lasix,
Never mind, they'll say,
Better tomorrow than today,
You'll improve each day,
Never mind, be home soon,
That's their daily tune,
Never mind, never mind,
Words fixed firmly in time,
Better than the rest---
Nurses know best!!
A tribute to the nursing profession.
Steven Fortune Apr 2014
I tried to be cordial with inactivity
washing it with weeping juice like a pardoned effigy
but the diamonds of determination were so wrapped in mind debris
that I threw away a fortune in potential

The smiles of the platitudes are louder than their laughs
An appeasing of their attitudes I warrant with the gaffes
of an undertaker's underling bestowing upon epitaphs
another deadened and deprived credential

Seeing days in ways that never did occur to me
Every end a mending by default, a sour recipe
for compromise eroding in a rusty *** of empathy

The dentist rubbed his fingers when he saw my gritted teeth
No sermon on the mount from me, more a mumble on the heath
My incisor is a tack that would support a giant's wreath
Thorns of novocaine will numb my Christmas wish

For the sake of universal order I will freeze a yawn
Mostly harmless said a hitchhiker of Earth so I can spawn
a batch of clones to live on hold where all the battle lines are drawn
I'll zip up and in the universal order I'll languish

Seeing nights in ways that never did occur to me
Every satellite a telecast of fault, a sour recipe
for sleeping juice to boil over in Big Dipper's empathy

Where's a pound of flesh when needed? I've grown tired of these ribs
On the grill of soggy marrow, hungry haunts will have first dibs
Call on William Blake to send the weepers to their cribs
Wishful thinking I'll preserve beneath the floorboards

With a hand in nothing new and an incisor in the usual
intestine chains surround my motivation's hot pursual
Don't read too much into my implied acceptance of a dual
with a messenger of fact's implicit hoards

Seeing days in ways that never did occur to me
Every end a mending by default, a sour recipe
for compromise eroding in an empty *** of sympathy

Sound the bugle for my bed is made, I'm rested for detention
Solitaire I'll play in my confinement for the crime of sought attention
I revolted the philosophers in plugging my intention
I would not concede that lab rats had it worse

The satellites are full and bright, the shadows walk on lakes tonight
I'll dream of sleep but eyes will play me in my bedroom's voided sight
Lay with me and sigh and the elastic laws of nature might
halt the quivering continuum of fate's forsaken course

Seeing nights in ways that never did occur to me
Every channel plays the same old cooking show's ensoured recipe
Compromise a minor seasoning in liver-flavoured empathy

04 15 14
There may be a couple of spelling errors...the rhyme scheme was inspired by Dylan's Tombstone Blues, and the title was inspired by another Dylan song, Just Like Tom Thumb's Blues.  I tried to capture a bit of his rambly style as well.

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