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........
........
Past eight in the ev'ning....rainy sky
Was out at the verandah...twas time
To pull the second bar of the gate
Street was a bit dark..........despite my dimming sight
I could see shapes...sensed some presence...heard soft noises'
Permeating the cool night atmosphere...three voices
Four guests, as in past nights...waiting outside...

A rushing, and tingling of plates, ladles and pots
The opening and closing of the glass door
After a while, our guests were served late dinner
Complaining.....in their own familiar way

Three impatient stray cats, kept meow-ing,
The neighbor's dog...as usual...patiently waited...
The brown-striped cat ran to the vacant lot
And started licking her share of fishhead
While the younger two, shared a single plate.
They all contentedly, ate in silence...

After a while...one by one,
Our regular guests disappeared
Lost, in the dark....among the tall banana plants
Sheltered themselves....somewhere safe,  
Their purrs, and hushed yelping,
Faded...in the black distance...
:::::::
:::::::::::::::::::
Twas time, to secure the bar of the gate,
.....................time, to close for the night...



Sally

Copyright October 24, 2016
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
...nights are rich with their sounds...something could be wrong, if we didn't hear their pesistent voices...
Where do all dead poets go?
If you find out then let me know.
Does all language die with them?
Words float in air, then end. Amen.

Or are their words preserved in time?
Scorched on paper, then held in shrine.
There to be seen, read, devoured,
Ancient wisdom from those empowered.

There to make a serious point
Using words to soothe, anoint.
Recording times, events and places.
Cataloguing history, people, faces.

Sometimes harsh in what they say,
Determined to speak come what may.
Not all poets speak in rhyme;
Using rhythm to keep in time.

But all good poems should touch the heart,
Evoke emotions from the start,
Make the reader see and feel,
Hear what's said, know it's real.

Remind us where we all connect,
Be you non- religious or from a sect.
Touch our senses, hearts and memories.
What one man does another sees.

Not all men use knowledge for good;
Follow morals and do what we should.
Think before we act and speak.
Find courage, be strong, protect the meek.

If you find time to help out others,
Mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers,
Take your life and start anew.
That's when you'll find the poet in you.
i want to know you enough
to know how you like your coffee
i want to see you enough
to watch your face light up at the little things
i want to hear you enough
to listen to the words you'd say when nobody's around
i  want to feel you enough
to know how it is to intertwine my fingers in yours
i want to be around you enough
to understand your being, so beautiful and complex

but as silly as it is,
although we're lifetimes apart,
i still seem to find you everywhere:
in sunsets, in flower beds, in the rain,
in the things i love
for you make me feel the same way they do—
yet this isn't quite enough.
Based on a prompt: l don't to remember you by mind, I want every inch of you etched in my heart.
Tinted With You.

The gentlest shade for bad heartache
has to be forest green
Mauve I would choose for sad mood
of that doubt in between.

Cerise for the missing when you stay
longer each time away
And with no contact the palette turns
from bright to earthy grey.

Canary-yellow gets mixed for the fun
times I thought would not end.            
Pink for my shyness and blush-red when        
recalling love's readiness.
.
Sienna when letter-less and silence
brings hints of cobalt blue.
Deepest of all is every night's indigo  
unless tinted with you.
every other girl is being chased
by the short hand of midnight
to leave their prince charming
before the stroke of twelve
and arrive home as normal ladies
sleeping with the memory of their trysts
under their pillows and inside their dazed minds
unknown to their families and even their animal friends
hiding away in secret gardens

i struggle a few hours earlier than them
singing for a love unsure
to break my curse
before the dusk seeks my soul
and drags me down
to the depths of turbulent undercurrents
where memories are drowned by time and space
and only the noise of rushing water
clashing against cold blood can be heard

i must find this love from one above the land
where his kiss will unseal the words of my hand
and i think i've found this love so true

but how am i even able to swim to him
when he only lives and shines in the dim
--when he's the man who's of the moon?
inspired from Disney's The Little Mermaid's Kiss the Girl

i always refer to my writing ability as the writer's curse: to write on and on, especially when it's about something that does not or has yet to exist.
I counted the moments as I fell,
And I was Alice, tumbling and falling
First faster, then slower,
But never, hitting the ground.
I kept on falling.
I thought of you as I fell,
Your dark lashes fanned out against your cheek,
The steady rhythm of your heart
The feel of your hand on my waist and your lips on my neck,
Your heavy breaths,
Your dark hair failing gracefully over your eyes,
The taste of you: salt, heat, want and lust,
I kept on falling.
I thought of you as I fell,
The empty static the only thing left,
Broken heartbeats and tired eyes,
Your ghost that roamed my house,
Haunting me, taunting me,
The voices growing louder and louder,
The silence unbreakable,
The static kept on streatching,
Cigarette ashes and empty tequila bottles,
The nights cold and unbearable,
I kept on falling.
I thought of you as I fell,
****** wrists and a fake smile plastered on my face,
My heart cold and frozen,
All the warmth evaporating,
An oxygen mask forcing me to breathe,
An ocean of pills, an unsplept bed,
Monsters from under the bed escaping to my head,
Hallucinations and nightmares,
Became the same thing,
I kept on falling.
I counted the moments as I fell,
And I was Icarus, drowning and falling because I had flown too close to the sun,
*I kept on falling.
Falling. Falling. Falling. Still have a long way to fall.
In the end I lost her with a truth and other one is with her with a lie.

**Who was the winner?
Should I lie too?
A garden of roses

Without you
Sun will not stop shining
Without you
wind will not stop blowing
People will not stop believing in love
Even if I spend my whole life
Waiting for you
Without you ......

When material comforts
No longer comforts you
And all you want is serenity
Then Just know that
I will wait for you
In the place
Where we have grown
A garden of roses

When he says those
words to hurt you
When he don't reply your emails
Then do read  those that
I wrote for you
If you feel lonely
Even though is right beside you
Then wait for me
Where we have grown
A garden of roses .

When material comforts
No longer comforts you
And all you want is serenity
Then Just know that
I will wait for you
In the place
Where we have grown
A garden of roses .....
As for her,

She might has forgotten
where the home is in the world

For she's always everywhere—
in every countries she crossed
on every streets she wandered
at every motels she spent the night
above the sand and ocean breeze
below the tallest buildings and crowded bridges..

But you,

You make her feel like
the closest thing to feeling that again
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