sunday sun has healing powers
it tilts your mind just that little bit higher
warms the soul and relaxes the heart
rest in the light.


lost Sunday
i travelled light
on Cemetery Rd.
at every sound
in the whistling oaks
coming after me
i was sick
but i didn't know
hushed by the fire
on the horizon
and the footsteps
at my back
on crystal snow
believe me
i was sick
i was a drunken punk
in the soy fields
sleeping giant
in a ring of salt

Paula Sullaj Apr 30

Bare feet grounding firmly
Distant whistles of soulmate songs
Your name still playing in the back of my head.

It's been a month.
I would have kissed you by now.
Jason L Rosa Apr 25

We laid on the couch
Talking, as if laughter and funny faces were smoke signals
Dancing playfully alongside inviting words and kisses

Time freezes.
And the minutes turned to hours.
And your smile took me away.
Again and again and again.
What is time anyway?
I'm where I need to be
I'm where I want to be.

This couch
A time capsule of
sweet memories

Any given Sunday
Josie Apr 23

I smell the earth coming back to life
Breathing in the cool air cleanses my soul
I feel whole
I pick up a flower from the ground
I breath in the sweet scent
Listening to love songs
On the audio
A perfect Sunday stroll

Happy Spring!
Laura Enright Apr 18

the corner shop near the railway station
opens now unlike when we came here first
when everything would shut on Sunday

the flea market in Mauerpark
is over-ridden with people selling kitsch
but we always go and we love it

everyone is so cool here that I think being cool
isn't hip anymore,
the street is a sea of hipsters in black

it's early Spring and there is still
no ferries on the Spree
but if you walk down the right street

you'll catch a couple of musicians
maybe a juggling act  
that blend in with graffiti and art

in the evening we'll go to the TV Tower
like tourists
pretend we can afford dinner in the revolving restaurant

two hundred and three metres high
and look over the cars on the road to Berlin-Mitte
that look like graceful glowing bugs below

we'll get have a cocktail with dinner in Caramba
in the square (just one)
and listen to light German jazz

with no need to worry
if the transport still runs at night

emme m Apr 6

church sunday morning
i met a guy like him
i said that he was beautiful
he told me to go to hell

and i sat down on my seat
a hundred hymns in my hand
oh i thought he was a god
but he was dying like a man

and the priest blessed us all
but i don’t need to be blessed
if only he was there
i wouldn’t be so obsessed

and we sung for the lord
our words turned into gold
religion is a masterpiece
it saves our souls

and when the ritual was done
i quitely went home
to talk about faith and belief
to him i worship the most

and on the way home to him
i couldn’t wait to arrive
and i prayed to god for him to still
be alive

but when i saw him laying there
bleeding on the floor
i just knew that god was dead
it didn’t matter anymore

it's a song, that's why it dosen't rime that perfect. hope you'll find the deeper meaning.
Lori Apr 2

status: lonely
a recipe for

stare at the patters overhanging your canopy bed
roll around the sheets till they resemble marshmallow fluff
flutter those eyes in the 9am light tracing bokehs with your feet
shutters blinds dust circling in your eyes rub red eyes
itch for adventures that happen best in beds

have your cat Margot greet you good morning
eat some oats with cinnamon apples and bananas
if you're not feeling sleepy, you're not doing it right
you get up get on the laptop and still get work done
face them all, period hormones repressed for now

have bread and blueberries, be a loner in your room
sip savor fresh milk like aged wine sit round swivel chair  
see ranbir kapoor film, virtual sightsee France and India
eat seaweed chips, dance to Bollywood, swing your hips
feel lonely, cry, avoid people, eat early dinner, read a poem

go to the rooftop, hear the birds chirp and squirm
let the cats brush and push their heads on your legs
feel the air breeze through your untied hair
be a queen, be a bawse, fight the burden of the cross
don't feel ignored, stop feeling rejected, intersect check reflect

look for writing prompt internalize free your mind forget self
four steps to conquering sundays let words sit and simmer
round till the words form and sprout their own legs, enjoy
the magic of words, spit the bitter poison of unhappiness
when lonely, it attacks best, get some rest, see tomorrow

it'll hurt less.

Day 2 of NaPoWriMo Challenge, recipe prompt today. It's supposed to be a recipe of how to conquer your Sunday. It feels too vague and not done right, but still super fun to try something different.
Sally A Bayan Mar 28

Coming home from the mass,
body stretches became endless
no hurried showers were done
some returned to bed, everything
was on a slow pace....but then,
kitchen aromas roused sluggish senses,
revealed garlic and onion sauteing,
beef stewing, stuffed fish grilling,
even the smell of parched soil, being
sprinkled with water...became fragrant...
all rushed to the table...for lunch...

dessert,­ was a choice...nothing...or,
slices of pie..fresh strawberries dipped
in condensed milk...peanuts, sour
chips, or salty tortillas, with salsa,
all these, over loud talks...whispers,
wholesome family conversations,
where endings are ever unpredictable

ea­ch Sunday carries a different mood
...with cups of tea, or coffee, when
discussions are serious, long, hushed...
most times, they're a tall glass of sundae,
with shaved ice, sago, sweetened yam,
or, beans, milk, and sugar........
decisions made, and agreed upon
are the multi colored toppings,
pretty much like syrup.....or ice cream...

sev­en days.....with different names...
each family member brings in a new shade
we do our best, to start, and end each day
................with pleasant airs
.................especially on Sundays,
......when families gather together...


Copyright March 26, 2017
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

(a recent Sunday in the family)
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