in the two step shuffle
off this mortal coil
too many hands of death
and deathbed caresses
words of soothe uttered
in honour ne'er a toil
too many whispered
death's door secrets
too many deathbed
promises made (& kept)
too many rainy days
graves dug in wet soil
too many tears of grief wept.

© J.C. 25/02019.

An insect,
Dull conscious,
In playful dance.

It, he, her,
Abberantly,
Before a vision,
Where birds cross clouds.

Their vectors,
Love affirmations,
That meet,
And,
In circles widen.

Time spent traveling is time wisely spent,
hours are filled with enriching experiences
and soul-searching moments

my morning trip to San Diego was such...
my eyes feasted on a blue-green ocean,
with daring surfers atop cresting waves;
and then there were my fellow farers...

the atmosphere inside the Amtrak
was a mix of moods...of voices of folks...
silent ones slept the whole trip...several,
had coffee and bread, while reflecting...
some were already working ahead of time,
giving instructions via their mobile phones...
a few were smiling, taking life positively,
maybe, dwelling on pleasant memories;
others wore serious faces...in deep thought,
maybe thinking of love's and life's unfairness,
sad realities they leave behind each morning,
the same ones they go home to each night.

boarding a train is one chapter,
getting off is another.....the platform is
where situations end, or, a fresh start awaits:
new job, a family...finding one's self somewhere,
ending a relationship...moving on when a loved
one dies...drifters are ever, "just passing through,"
they go....wherever the train takes them...

trips are inward journeys...the hours open
and clear our minds, leaving realizations
and wiser perspectives over nagging issues
we shun...or, defy; we try to change what
can be changed in our lives...and accept
with peace...what...cannot be changed...

we are on a journey...we are farers all,
...........in this train...called life...


Sally

© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
July 5, 2019

The floating clouds are merciless with teasing hints of rain.
They blossom like chrisanthemums and sing the same refrain:

"There's moisture in our puffy holds. We'll send it earhward bound.
But the drops dissolve like salty tears before they hit the ground."

They move across the bright blue sky and leave us wilted still.
Oh AUTUMN ... where art thou? This heat's a bitter pill.

One would think that I got
This thing called life figured out...
But that would be wrong
I’ve been in this world for 43 years
And the only thing I’ve figured out
Is I haven’t figured anything out

Sometimes I think I would just float away
If my son wasn’t holding the strings
He grounds me in a good way
With all the light that he brings

Most days I can hold it together
Other days I want to float out to sea
Would anyone miss me?
Yeah some days I am just getting by
Other days...who knows? I can just lie

Many emotions
Lack of solutions
The hurt and pain
Caused by you or to you
Shrouded in mystery
The pain never alone
Whom to please
Yourself or others?
What’s understood
And not
It’s no more important
Leaf out of the crowd
To the lake, a breath of fresh air
Is all it takes
To ease out the nerves
Drift  to a place of calm
peace and solitude
Within
And around