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Eloisa Feb 2
Nurture your strength and let it freely grow
Gather your spirit, paddle your own canoe
The  darkest storms and all the wildest waves
Spiralling winds,  the strongest gales
All these torments, disillusions and dismays
Easy and strong paddles keep you adrift and unafraid
the leaders of tomorrow bravely take to the dais
justified their precious life,
     liberty and pursuit of happiness -
     stolen under their figurative nose)

     asper an unparalleled heist
recouping quintessential basic human rights,
     and will NOT yield an inch
     (or any other minuscule amount),

     if for no other reason
     (and many more valid claims prevail)
     such inalienable American birthrights

     (codified decrees endowing freedoms -
     tattered to shreds via frenzy of bullets)
     guaranteeing harm inviolable unjustly out priced
     sacrificed by lax second amendment spiced

within wanton murderous sprees wherein assassin
literally calls the shots (supplanting
     assigned storied halls with din
of fire arms (acquired

     from pennies on the dollar,
     or bartered for a bottle of gin
within the underbelly (viz black market)
     of society, where trigger happy jinn nee

     as slaughter sans killing fields mount
     with resignation vis a vis
     tocollective shrugging shoulders prithee
and upend safe havens i.e. storied academic re:

deuce sing self preservation (UNFAIRLY)
     to activist minded students tree
ting each day as a survivalist course, thus WE

as coined on legal tender (E Pluribus Unum)
MUST unite against love affair with pistols, no matter
     one or more mere mortals
     think Matthew Scott cray ZEE!
Ignatius Hosiana Jan 2017
One day-the talk of the Sailors, the next a wreck
a beauty of the universe and the next a Shrek
The king of the jungle today, a carcass tomorrow
from pinnacle of joy to an iceberg of sorrow

One moment you're a trodden road, the next forgotten
fresh and busking marine and then a fossil, you're rotten
this minute, a blossom of the garden and then a wilt
a rock of now that will be glaciated to mere silt


Even an Eagle soaring high in the sky gets to the ground
at some point, the found get lost and the lost get found
drums that rumble will someday go the limpid in a ***
you lack today but someday will find all you sought
Mas vueno pa enterrar
Contra perde
Mas vueno mira mi cuerpo abajo
Contra mira mi cuerpo perdido
Si, iyo ya cavar con el tierra,
Iyo ya entera complaciente
Iyo ya entera na mi cuerpo
Pero tu ya dale patada pa adrento
Ya basha tierra mas manada na suficiente
Ellos ya poner cinco grande piedra ariba
Seguro ya yo subir
Seguro hinde ya yo vivir
Hinde pa campante, ya pone pa colebra
Ya entra, yan camang, ya porsa
Yan junto comigo, ya besa
Ya bira na cabeza y pescuezo
No hay iyo luchar y defenderse
Hasta cuando kamo mata con el muerto?
Hasta cuando kam derramar sangre con el tierra mojado?
Hasta cuando yo muri?


**Svelte Rogue, ACS
This is my first Chavacano poem. It is a dialect in the Philippines which has similarity to Spanish. The poem speaks about my torments and tormentors on a recent event in my life. I did a mistake that caused them to do their acts. I was sorry and still am. I accepted defeat and didn't fight back, never did. I helplessly accept the pain every time. I fake a smile, keep my head up, and carry on. I die every day. I die a little inside every time they push me below.  The question is, until when?

PS. I will be adding the English and Tagalog (Language in the Philippines) version of this poem.
Sally A Bayan Jun 2015
(Love letter 3)


Letters are piling up, my dearest,
See, here's another one..

Today is not a busy day, the hours are slow
I'm giving my thoughts a go
Whether the sun smiles brightly
Or when overcast clouds would speak, "gloomy,"
I shall breathe deeply... enjoy my hours free...
Let my eyes and mind wander---
Here, there,
Places upon places
Faces upon faces
The present times and the old
Events that tomorrow may hold...

This...now...is my holiday moment,
I think of ripples, puddles and currents,
Cool breeze...and blue waves,
With them, I suddenly am brave
Thinking of past journeys, on beaten, as well as paved,roads
I am confident...Somebody watches me, through every stream I ford...

My holidays are moments
A blend of joy and torments,
I alone, hold my chin
When a smile becomes a grin
That turns to a soft sounding laugh
Because, the air I breathe becomes perfumed with hope,
And tap water tastes like some sweet tasting stuff.

In my heart, there is no room for wrath
Even when anxiety is the tar that stains my path
When I am black as coal, from despair...and I go down
Lower...surrendering to the ground
...without giving a sound
When the aching,
...the hurting,
Becomes too much
To bear for my stomach
When it takes a big effort, my breath, I catch,
To straighten...from a body so crouched.

Behind every smile, there hide my fears
But there is always the sun, the wind, to help dry my tears

I may be alone....or with friends,
Having drinks in the garden,
Or simply enjoying the starlit Heaven
They're bits and pieces of hours so precious
Coming through summer breezes
When leaves fall, like fading kisses
When feeling the rain touch my skin,
When times are tough, or smooth sailin'
When I shiver from the cold
Filled with the blue, and I can't be that bold
But....I am never alone, or without you
For, you are my air,  my every sigh
.....I think of you
With every breath I take....

Now, I must ask...
Do you have holiday moments, too?
Am I your holiday moment?
(December 14, 2014)

Me---
Sally

Copyright December 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Mae Jun 2015
There isn't that much ''new'' left. Poems, songs, paintings, sonnets etc. It's all the same idea. They're all about the one that got away or the hurricane of emotions left behind. Or maybe that childhood kiss that was sweeter than the strawberry jam mom would pack for lunch. Maybe it's about those days you'd run out in the storm in rainboots, waiting to feel those droplets on our face because there was nothing that a little rain couldn't wash away...right? Those tormented nights when the big bad wolf known as life, reminded you that not everyone thought you were a "superstar".
And in those moments, mom or dad, aunt or uncle would say "Life happens, honey". Those words never felt like comfort. They were more of a reminder that they had already experienced it and more was coming. Which brings me back to: there isn't that much new left. Although the canvas might be different or the medium could be thicker, there is still the same picture.

Everything has already been done before. Someone already felt it.
Threatening to shut out all memories, my wounds threatening to open again..
When I was a young girl of ten, my heart was heavy, my skin was thin
I was born a regular child, never to know why i was wild....

Roaming here and there, feeling the fire as the torments roam....

Though it keeps me here and I pray that it burns, but i know not
to scream....it will **** me in the end ...

As I roam, not knowing where I go
I keep asking where have I really been???

Debbie Brooks 2015
Ruben M Aug 2014
There is an old blue man in my mind
Rocking his rocking chair.
Outside on the deck with leaves
Swaying by, it's cold but it's a cycle.
His heart is always dry.

Just looking down to the ground
As the dark sky torments above.
The sun sets down to leave sight,
Just like the feeling of love.

— The End —