#reeds
Reeds on the river
Bobbing heads with no real plan
Humanity in nature
Aug 18, 2020
Aug 18, 2020 at 3:30 AM UTC
bohemian rhapsody parades
amidst greensward moored
erupting profusely toward cerulean skies
ushered with invisible rip cord
this Earthling self assigned to an (elder)
box office catbird seat - hoard
ding a secluded nook
upon premises of Highland (highly adored)
Manor Apartments nestled
within bucolic (cost wise, a ford
double) Schwenksville, Pennsylvania
(40.2562° N, 75.4638° W) explored,
sans (founded in 1684)
pleasantly assaultive stimuli
conducted brake upon metaphysical ratiocination,
where sunshine poured
upon variegated mother nature
arrangement, viz spectacular
vernal suite scored
a top ten hit orchestrating
exquisite (August) May day presentation,
which mutely roared
bedazzling this sensate
being overwriting gourd
fully stocked, when brittle
winter snowy firmament forced accord,
asper overlaying habitat
palimpsest akin to (sic) ward
before an a may zing exuberant poly
chromatic onset splashed vibrant
brilliantly colored palette, toward
this captive observer,
where choral symphony courtesy of flora
and fauna sensational
encore performance
(day at the) opera captivated ensured
fixated this tethered primate royally
impressed and allured
by aural and visual
regalia fit for a lord
and tailor, while solar orbitz
directed by Helios,
whose journey across
deep purple celestial sea deplored
noiselessly casting lengthened shadows
signaling luminous hued dusk
chariots of fire earthly dome ceiling ablaze
pearl jam disappearance,
when daylight blinks adieu
til the morrow, when dawn
betakes the reins to reign cosmos chose
zing emergent rays announcing
morning haz broken
nudging, prodding, rousing from doze
well rested body electric,
where energy flows
as attested from me noggin glows
nsync, sans panoply
of soundgarden crescendo propose
zing ideal material sharing circadian rhythm
thru the time stream yours truly rows.
May 2, 2018
May 2, 2018 at 9:41 PM UTC
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I see young reeds on the marshy water
......with flexible stalks...softer...smaller
forcefully swayed by the ones taller...older
...squeezed in between
...no choice given
.....but to exist within
there are those that bravely stray
...even before the stiff ones get blown away,
.....out of the reedy confines, they peek
......curiosity and freedom...they seek
i watch these young reeds rise and totter
when the wind moves the shallow water
bravely peeping...finding their light,
...claiming their space....with traces of fright
.................learning to fight
...with every fiber of their might.
...they can't go farther
................than yonder
in restrictions, they'll find some wisdom
eventually, they'll discover true freedom
one day...their blades would be more defined,
toughened, honed by rain, sun, wind and time,
in their minds, my words would have to rhyme...
but, until then...i got to be taller
......sharper.....tougher
...flexible, but dauntless
i have to sway 360 degrees,
.......when the need arises....
Sally
Copyright July 12, 2017
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Jul 12, 2017
Jul 12, 2017 at 12:55 AM UTC
*It bends its back and cracks its spine
Out of sheer frustration
Much like a whip
For as it is, it seems to be, and ever will be
The unchangeable, and the uncommented
Much like the silent birds which breathe, yet are not without their own beauty
How they never sing, and will never speak of such things
Because this is how, and this is when
I know why the willow whips do weep
For as we are one and from the same
How they cry in silence, not out of vanity, but out of frustration
Because you, in stay, know no other way
Than to pass them by before they can speak
Of the way your footprints tread on the teeming dandelions
Leaving only the meadow left in pain
For you are so invested in your own sunshine
That you neglect to see and hear the same
That the willow whips now weep in pain*
Jun 12, 2017
Jun 12, 2017 at 4:50 PM UTC