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 Mar 2017 traces of being
ryn
This is my bargain.
Day for night
and night for day.

There isn't a time where I hadn't wished
that the day would end to make way for night.

Nights offer a bleak sense of comfort.
Almost as if they'd grant a temporary cloak which
you could huddle under and think or...
Overthink in the dark.

You could bargain shamelessly with tears running streams down your face and no one could see.
You could negotiate with reality for the slight perchance that things would turn out alright come daylight.
You could voice out your barter in hushed tones and still be somewhat assured that no one would know.
All of this...
In the cover of night.

Then when sleep eludes, you can't help but beg for day to come.
For with the light comes the day's responsibilities; all eager and raring to go.
Much like runners at the start line, anticipating the shot to be fired at the crack of dawn.
Shot fired and they'd come swooping down on you...
Sweeping you off your feet and carries you off to where you need to be, doing what you're paid to do for the next 8 to 10 hours.

That is your break from the dark.
That is your retreat from all the thinking.
That is your escape from... yourself.

And then...
4 hours into the day, you're wishing for night again.
 Mar 2017 traces of being
ryn
Heated...
Like the fevered blood coursing through veins

Malignant...
Like open sores upon the skin

Defeated...
Like the drums that faltered in the rain

Potent...
Like the potion quietly bunged within

Temporary...
Like the promise doomed never to be kept

Hasty...
Like the mouth which spoke too quick

Greedy...
Like the palms, too eager to accept

Dead...**
Like the heart that now refused to tick
hasty short-termed  temporal passing
transitory words fly so quick as bats like flies
vermin winged here
then when i descend
from high come down land
next to a statue or painting
a poem falls next to me
a leaf
i find this urge to capture
every variation her veins color dryness
scent the tree stands so tall over me
glancing
deciding it seems
if my words are worthy
like a father defending his only daughter
from me
and I love her I swear to him
and I do
she is life to me
my all
she floated and fell and beautifully
on my shoulder landed
it was meant to be
I look up at all
the trees and all the leaves
and this one was  the one
for me
 Mar 2017 traces of being
yne
you said you loved reading poetry
how every words heal your soul
how every lines ease your existence
right there and then, i fell in love with you
we started diving through pages
and singing through words
we became one with poetry
this love feels so pure and true
but in the end you broke my heart
now the poetry is you
 Mar 2017 traces of being
yne
it eased my mind to know that
somewhere between parallel worlds
somewhere in another life
somewhere in different universe
somewhere
i am able to be with you
i am able to feel your warmth in my fingertips
i am able to collide my lips with yours
maybe not in this life
maybe not in this reality i live in right now
but still, it eased my mind to know that somewhere
i'm not alone, and we're not on our own
Dinner is done
everyone's settled
the evening.....like the moon.....is full...
the weight of the night has itself eased into mine,
my expected moment of slumber...now distraught...
the Heavens are purpled
twilight drapes have fallen,
winds of March...bellow
.........my pillows
..............are hollowed
.......................by my elbows
......as a distant rooster crows........
i lie on my abdomen...legs swing back and forth,
catching inspiration, a word, a daydream...a thought,
i grab a pen falling, i grasp a journal, a book,
...............everything is within reach
but, not...the....long..................stretch
of hours....of a sleepless night...whence
....spiced...spiked...and sugared memories...
..........accompany me...and sail with me
.......as i cruise along this lethargic sea
'neath a silent dark, where aches are loudest
.........domed, by an unworded loneliness,
i am wearied by a flow, that is endless,
.....this minute...imagination is ceaseless
........i reach for my mug....but, it's empty
.........................i hear no liquid seething
this moment,  a dark sea, should be brewing....
this hour, verses must be a river, overflowing,
...enfolding, this cool and starry, starry evening...
.......i am caffeinated....even without coffee....

Sally


Copyright March 23, 2017
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
(a nonsense poem, most of you might say
...... a new coffee poem...spun today...)
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