#trepidation
Winter is near, and night drapes quickly over the city, a black satin
sheath to be decorated by the early stars. But the skyline is
different, the glass and stone soldiers that elbow for prominence at
the river’s edge don’t shine bright until the river blackens out of
sight, not until the soft whoosh of the final ripples from the ferry
boats lap up against the pier pilings. No, the skyline sleeps late,
then awakens not for the city, for it stretches and smiles brightly,
before an open-mouthed inhale of cold night air, all show, an
opening number, a roaring, leg-kicking first dance for those who
stare and yearn, who pine in nervous indecision on the far shore,
tantalized, pawing at the ground before, perhaps, bridging the
pitch water to join the city splash, for if one stays put, feet planted
at a distance, beyond the parquet floor, well….
Dec 9, 2020
Dec 9, 2020 at 4:17 PM UTC
carefully reaching for your hand
it's the first day I've seen you in person.
I've known you for long enough
that I'm surprised when you grab my hand back.
when I look into your eyes, I see fear, and trepidation, and sadness, but also hope and happiness and love.
I will do everything I can
to keep holding your hand.
you hold mine so gently
so carefully. so kindly.
May 19, 2020
May 19, 2020 at 9:00 PM UTC
o, this vain trepidation,
the fear that though it is you
who demands sincerity,
you're still treading
on both grounds
and i wound up lying on the floor
beaten and battered. and you're
the one dealing the final blow.
Feb 17, 2020
Feb 17, 2020 at 12:40 AM UTC
I prepared new brushes to draw and paint
all the pain and bruises you’ve given me.
Yes, new brushes and gouaches for the fresh wounds
and heartaches that I would conceal in the coming days…
I’ll paint the bleeding sky for that chaos I chose not to end.
I’ll paint those nameless people who saw us together that night, wait, did they envied what they just witnessed?
I don’t quite know, but infatuation can go beyond the sleepless nights,
and in a fraction of a second can turn pain into trepidation and longing.
I’ll give you an exact picture of the hues of gray and black in the stories of ours
which we chose to finally put into an end.
Jan 6, 2020
Jan 6, 2020 at 10:11 PM UTC
please know that I love you more than the stars, the sun, and the skies could hold.
but I don't know how to fix something without damaging it the process.
you are fragile, and my hands have unintentionally fractured you countless times. I know this, even though you've never explicitly told me.
I dance on eggshells around you: I am atlas, pirouetting across an empire of thin ice, just so I don't mar you with my words.
swallowing conversations and feelings is a talent we both possess. to spare the pain of the other, we dampen the truth. we drink the fires of resentment and leave them to ferment.
I cannot fix this without potentially damaging it further.
I'm a storm with skin. my collateral damage knows no bounds, spares no mercy. you know this. but hear me, and heed me closely.
I don't paint you as the villain. you aren't the martyr. we are equally responsible for this damage and decay. the rot of something once beautiful.
yet I cannot fix something without causing further damage.
we are a two way street. growth of beauty cannot flourish in stagnation.
please, do not test the limits of my volatility. I cannot mend the tatters of thirteen years with a single spool of thread.
I refuse to swallow fermented resentment. I walk on eggshells carrying mountains for you no more.
this tapestry will end in one of two ways: opulent splendor, or devoured by living flames.
I cannot fix something without destroying it in the process.
May 4, 2018
May 4, 2018 at 6:29 PM UTC
a lawyer's
batch in
a brief
if hiring
direly break
trepidation that
equality *****
when a
state of
confusion interrupts
rights to
a genuine
occupy of
love where
intent only
makes mark
in society
Apr 2, 2018
Apr 2, 2018 at 7:17 AM UTC
✫ · + . ✵
.
· .•°•Trepidation•°•.
. ˚ *
. . ⋆ * ˚
. ⊹
Bunga-bunga menjauh dari jalanku
Membiarkanku seakan kehilangan ragaku
Duri menghiasi setiap jalan
Sinar matahari memudar di sela-sela dedaunan
Burung-burung merintih dalam pedih
Biarlah ketakutan mengambil kesempatanku
Kesempatan untuk kembali ke jalanku
Jalan yang tak mungkin kutemui lagi
Di kegelapan aku mencoba menyisir cahaya
Menyisir cahaya dan kudapati rontokan bintang
Aku takut..
Aku takut pada malam
Malam yang semakin pekat
Kemana aku akan berlari?
Lututku berdarah menapaki jalan tanpa arah
Semua ini tampak seperti ilusi bagiku
Menemukan jalan yang benar adalah delusi
Tak ada rasa sakit, tak ada kesenangan
Namun kesenangan itu hanyalah angan-angan
Aku tak ingin menyerah
Walau kurasa hatiku berdarah
Bila dunia ini berhenti
Siapapun takkan bisa mengunciku lagi
Selamatkan aku...
Keluarkan aku dari sini
Seperti apa akhir dari jalan ini?
Aku takut...
Keluarkan aku dari sini
Ku mohon peganglah tanganku
Di dalam hatimu, di dalam mimpimu
Bangunkanlah kembali bintang-bintang
-Kediri, 17 Maret 2018
Mar 25, 2018
Mar 25, 2018 at 11:23 PM UTC
It's that time of year again
And my legs are shaking
I see the same thing
And it's mine for the taking
But my hand, its faking
To be strong
To hold on
I don't wanna lose more
But I'm not getting close
What's happening to me
The curtain is falling again
The show is coming to close
And nothing is seeming to change
I remember the time
I was doing just fine
Everything I wanted
Was falling on my side
I felt it behind me
I was seldom alone
Cold breath on my neck
Cutting me through my throat.
Lust dripped on my skin
Terrifying a part of my soul
I would have thought to call
That memory
but it's long since gone
Feb 6, 2018
Feb 6, 2018 at 2:51 PM UTC
A Baltic atoll nigh
I am but a giant
of enlightenment
as I've been both years
here yet develop
strep in tears despair
days that might
stay when I came to
love our being still
mystery now season
in newly gotten wiles
only there to impress
a red rover machine
and target afresh
dreamscape by canal.
Mar 23, 2017
Mar 23, 2017 at 5:23 AM UTC
Displayed in a forever line of serpentines
Stretching over many days and weeks and years,
The dominoes stand upright in the dusk;
Each a careful distance from the next,
All skillfully and artfully arranged.
A prideful eye surveys the intricate design
That wonders at the craftsmanship involved
And blesses luck that gifted steady hands
And a non-ending stack of pieces -
Hoping that an earthquake does not come.
Who will have the honor of the push
That starts the clicking trail of doom
That ends with helter-skelter rubble
On the floor or mortuary slab
As dominoes become a life all lived.
Will it be anger like a piercing knife
Or some organic instrument
That weakens the well organized
Assemblage of a life and makes it fall
Like a domino nudged out of line.
Frustration or depression, which will it be
That starts the tiles to falling
And once moving with no hope to stop.
Will it it be by accident or force of will-
I need to add a few more at the end
I can’t afford to buy another box.
ljm
Feb 13, 2017
Feb 13, 2017 at 11:29 AM UTC
It's a possibility, you know me, but a probability, that you don't
possible you'll see me, but probable, that you won't
A possible connection, the kind that ever sings
but probable, no music, no contributions bring
Where it's a probable rejection, that cuts into my soul
or a possible exception, losing all controls
Everything in life, is possible, like songs within the wind
not all things are probable, and so, here I go again
I follow behind you, where probability is ever thin
instead of beside you, where possibilities, never end
Dec 16, 2016
Dec 16, 2016 at 8:38 AM UTC
There is something inside me,
lurking deep within the realms
which threatens to overwhelm
me utterly, completely.
Only occasionally
leaving me incapable;
totally vulnerable,
full of insecurity.
After the feeling subsides
what I find most troubling
is the power of this thing
that deep within me resides.
How I am at it's mercy
as it grows ever stronger.
I wonder how much longer
before it will consume me.
Dec 1, 2015
Dec 1, 2015 at 4:52 AM UTC
Is that presence always doomed.
anticipation of entering another's
life. The hope of them entering yours.
The wait. Knowing effort could
crack the very time they linger.
The fear that distance will cause
opportunity to cease. The decision.
The stop light switches from green
to red. Never seeming to be a cautious
yellow light. Informing you to proceed
carefully.
The feeling is wondrous with wait.
dreary with slight fear, even trepidation.
quite...anticipating.
Hello there, you're familiar to me.
Did you know I exist. Or are you
yet to forget my face as well.
Will you stay in my life or will you fade too,
amongst all the others, old and new.
how wonky a feeling.
very...anticipating..
Nov 10, 2015
Nov 10, 2015 at 7:01 PM UTC
When time ceases and your world falls apart,
When trepidation clouds your imminent future,
For when everything you ever held onto is lost,
and your thoughts shamble past your once glimmering eyes;
For when you stop moving your dexterous arms and just lay,
You feel pain surging through your veins,
Detriment taking over exuberance
fighting your self doubting mind off of deranged thoughts;
For once you feel the need to close your eyes
and fight off the impassiveness that blocks your sight,
For once you just wish this wound would heal,
For your toiled life to just ease into calmness,
To be ridden off the weight piled on your fragile shoulders;
Your mind seives through various ways
To feel the ubiquitous presence of ethereal light,
To curl up in it's peacefulness and inevitably give into it;
Tranquility takes the place of hurt
like an addictive shot of cannabis dissolving into your system;
You feel the penetrating urge to hold on to it
To reach out to your sliver of hope with your scrawny fingers
and grasp it tight,
Your hope of a world inoculated against the social stigma,
Rid of narcissus and his obnoxiousness;
Where for once in your troubled life you would not have to hide;
You feel your numb fingers closing over something sharp,
Possessed by an unquenchable thirst for freedom,
Wanting to insinuate yourself with the ethereal glimpse of hope;
Your breath lies between the blade of wishful virtuality and reality;
Reality, a now tormented word,
a word defining a world arisen out of
A never satisfying greed for power and erudition;
You fathom your cognisant mind to construe the moment,
To feel a sharp paroxysm of pain, a flush of wrong;
An ardor to redefine reality,
To concoct the mundane world scrupulous,
To write the wrong;
The heart now pumps blood of valiance,
Belligerence to cause insurrection,
A piquant taste to live builds up,
To fight for righteousness and to die of victory,
For it is in our nature to fight;
The blade falls into the pit of cowardice,
And reality has been chosen;
Chivalry triumphs over death
and the **** that time is begins to run rampant;
The crusade soaring in your mind now vanquished,
Your fragmented scorched life now meaningful;
For you have been reborn,
a master of time and chaste;
Reborn into a warrior,
one who has fought off the wards of death;
Whose prudence his armour,
Benevolence his weapon,
Candour his speech,
Dauntless his demeanour and
Intrepid his blood.
May 30, 2015
May 30, 2015 at 10:00 AM UTC
a sort of trepidation
that accompanied each butterfly gesture
served as the puncture weapon of a daily wound.
today, the empty hole left within me-
filled with inevitable aftermath.
I'll wallow through the ocean of your absence.
Apr 2, 2015
Apr 2, 2015 at 10:15 PM UTC
I told you today
in a round about way
that I loved you
I spilt secrets and feelings on that blessed white page
hoping it had been sage
to admit in finality that I love you
now I await
for your response post haste
as you struggle to figure out my name
and my heart I try to tame
as it flutters and beats
at your chairs every squeak
and I pretend cool
as I curse that once again I let my heart rule
over logic and pride
I need to learn to smite
these whims of adrenaline
and fix my hearts painful regimen
of loving you
Mar 4, 2015
Mar 4, 2015 at 10:59 PM UTC
Five-thirty AM.
Hustle 'n bustle
b e g i n s....
........footfalls
running u p
and d o w n
the stairway
......stomping
.......catching
..........fidgety
elevator........
...........voices
...r o a r i n g
s h o u t i n g
...c u r s i n g
.....f a l l i n g
......wavering
....an endless
........series of
..........sounds
..........scaring
......escalating
scaring even
more.......then
slowing down
hushing..........
fading.............
....filling hours
....til footsteps
...............start
........returning.
Night comes,
greeted, with
Tchaikovsky's
c o n c e r t o ,
bright lamps,
muted sounds
.......of spoons
forks....knives
against plates
...tingling dies
giving way to
tea cups, wine
...........glasses.
........and when
dinner's done.
:::::::::::::::::::::::
when all are in,
when all have
settled down.
::::::::::::::::::::::::
n o i s e s........
....are no more,
~~~~~~~~~~
swallowed, by
the spreading
........Dark.......
:::::::::::::::::::::::
Late nights.....
.....p e a c e.....
a soft silence
wall lamps are
mellow-lighted,
...some voices
loud.....others
vaguely heard,
some....fading
into..the..night.
:::::::::::::::::::::::
:::::::::::::::::::::::
Shortly...........
the rush shall
re commence.
Those heavy,
loud footfalls
will a g a i n
.......t e r r i f y
the old ones,
with t h e i r
......fear of.....
:t h u n d e r:
Up.......down,
down.......up,
........nonstop
shaking........
floors...........
........ceilings
down..........
..........below.
::::::::::::::::::::::
::::::::::::::::::::::
The HALLWAY
....is a straight
Path, a world,
With its own
Moments.....of
b l u e..s k i e s
.l i g h t n i n g.
..........and........
...r o a r i n g...
:t h u n d e r s:
::::::::::::::::::::::::
Sally
Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Dec 27, 2014
Dec 27, 2014 at 8:17 AM UTC
Fear of absolution, relishing of hindrance.
A wall of black, darkness that rests within
To fall under blistering defeat to reiterate the blood red scrolls of sin.
Decimate remains of a hallowed grave,
Torment and desire to those who strayed.
Falter under knowledge of an atrocious cause,
Beg for the black widow to hear you call.
Succumb to the temptation of a lustrous quintessence,
Grasp at the hot wind of a deserts blast.
Underestimate the repudiation of the reserved contrast,
To be forever forgotten, but to always last.
Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 7:50 PM UTC
Why am I so scared of this?
I can't explain this rumble jumble
of feelings tornado-ing
around inside me right now.
I want it, I like this chance, I do.
But **** am I terrified too.
And the apprehension itself
scares me.
I'm standing at the edge,
cautiously peeking over,
as my toes creep ever closer
until they've passed the ledge
dangling in that scary oblivion
heart racing, breaths tumbling
as they chase each other
out of my chest.
I have to jump, make this leap
or I'll never be sure.
I can't be too scared to try,
too fearful of the fall,
to risk the chance to fly.
Jul 26, 2014
Jul 26, 2014 at 4:22 PM UTC
God, be the breath in me;
Be the sparkle in my eye, the smile that glides strong and bright over that lower portion of my face;
Be the hand that gives, the wiry cord that ties up all my loose ends;
The socks that hold my shivering legs in one piece;
The shoes, tied tightly, that stand my feet upon the ground, in one place, never fleeing;
The engine within that revs forward at any show of fear, never shrinking;
Never shutting off, shutting down, freezing up.
I hope that I can swallow this angst and remind myself of who I am, of who God made me,
And walk into the brightest light, the darkness tunnel, to the other side of the door which is a mystery unto me.
The time has taken its time. My soul has persisted slowly, dragging its feet in heavy anticipation that one day I would actually need to take this great leap of faith, and trust
That someone will catch me.
And even if nobody does, and I eat gravel, I think God will still have me,
And He’ll be smiling at me, those big pearly whites glowing, because
I tried.
I faced fear and, conquered or defeated, I did what I thought ridiculous, impossible, impenetrable.
And I suppose I’ll just have to dust off my jeans and keep moving forward.
No.
Running forward.
Jun 11, 2014
Jun 11, 2014 at 10:14 AM UTC
Terrified
of taking this chance
and letting you see
just how jagged every
little piece
of
me is. Broken, all my
scattered portions flutter
away until I'm no
longer sure of just
what
picture they used to
complete. And you come
along, strolling oh-so-
casually to retrieve
this
piece and that piece,
fitting them in their
rightful places again.
Each snugly put in with a
love
I never imagined could
exist in reality. So tell me
why, when I so clearly see
your pure intentions, why
can
I not just accept it all?
Instead I wonder, second-
guess, and contemplate
running. Can I ever just
be...
Apr 19, 2014
Apr 19, 2014 at 3:05 PM UTC