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Sally A Bayan Jun 2014
Why does it turn its head from side to side?..........


Watching from the bay window, i knew that very moment,
it was obviously up to something, a mischief at most.
it was comfortably hunched under the cool shade
of the sweetsop tree; the fuschia bougainville,
its thorny  branches  added  to the  shade.
Glaring blue-gray eyes appeared to be
basking in the sunny weather, the
yellow and pink wildflowers, its
body, hiding from the rays of
the sun, hiding 'neath the
tall, swaying  branches
of the oxygen  plant,
with its soft stems
moving weirdly
like a see-saw,
the succulent
leaves, one
by  o n e
being cut
off its stem.
It seemed sure,
as it  hit  its  nose
a g a i n s t  the  whole
bunch over and over....the
leaves, one by one, fell  softly
on the ground. Now, i know why
it turned its head, from side to side...
how surprised was i, for it gathered  the
fallen leaves to where it hid  underneath  the
sweetsop tree......for there, the leaves occupied
some space, and then i saw it lay upon the coolness
of the gathered leaves, then leant its head beside an old
empty clay ***, cold, too, i suppose.....fell asleep in comfort.
I fought the urge to lift this clever,  self-reliant  creature, take it
to my lap and cuddle it, lest it scratch me with its furry paws, glare
at me, even growl at me....instead of rubbing its  body  near  my  legs
giving me sweet meows, soft purrs, so, i left it alone while cat-napping.



Sally

Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A.Bayan
Marian, another one for Lady Jane...please take a moment, lift yourself from your sorrow, read this poem, with Lady Jane  on your lap.
I hope it helps, Marian.
astiani hayn Sep 2018
I'm nothing but a silenced laugh,
I breath fire smells a fantasy bougainville,
I speak cursed sounds a soothing lullaby,
Honey, I'm your foe, and you know me as amigo,
I'm bleeding of lies, betrayal–a vicious sinner,
And this skin-deep will last until you realize,
I'm a ****** retaliation dressed in devotion.
Prathipa Nair Jun 2016
You are like Bougainville
In my garden of love
Making it colourful
With various ways of
Showing your love
Taking the place of a
Father, brother, friend
Lover, husband and
My endearing child
Encouraging as a father
Protecting as a brother
Supporting as a friend
Caring as a lover
Loving as a husband
And as a child demanding
Winning my heart by
Being my reflection
Intertwined within me
As a shadow of my soul !
preservationman Apr 2018
There’s more to a Poet that meets the eye
Poet spelled backwards is Teop and that is why
According to the dictionary, Teop is a language of Northern Bougainville, Papua New Ginea
Imagine that
You probably thought a Poet was alone, but the dictionary let it be known
Being a Poet when you think about it can come in many different languages
Cultures expressed in Poetry foreign vibes
Teop being a language all its own
Good information for letting it be known
How a Poet expresses in varying foreign words
Let’s face it all they want is to be heard
Poet and Teop in the spoken written tongue
What it all mount’s to is communication
Poet into Teop and any other culture are that one’s who are the assembler of words
Culture Poet’s are the one’s in their native language interacting the thought
The idea of sought
So Poet and Teop do have something in common
If you are reading this, I got your attention
Of course, I had to mention.
Hannah J Strauss Jul 2019
Do you ever wonder down your memoirs,
And gaze upon the sight.
Of decisions made and choices missed
And questioned if you were right.

Do you see the tape of your first big mistake?
Playing over and over again.
Had you stayed. Or run away.
Chased by the laughter of men.

Do you hear the glass breaking?
Mother told you no.
And if only you had listened
Your friend wouldn’t have had to go.

Is the smell of his breath still sticking to your skin
where kisses he placed set?
Are they anchors to your body?
A chord to be played on a fret?

Does the vivid memory of Ben
Sting just as before?
Has Ben let you go?
Or do you just go back, begging for more?

What about your first time?
Do you love him still?
Is he too far gone down a road
With you trapped in the bougainville?

You look for the rewind.
Wish for another chance.
Hope to god that all this
Is just what they call lost in a trance.
Sorry it's late. I know I usually post on Monday, but this took a while to come to me.
Got thee while walking
From school outgoing
Sidewalk ornament
Simple arrangement
You, “bougainville”?

It is obviously
A school property
That of CapSU-Main
Was there once again
Mother School – city

Ma’am Gomez called us
Authors – English Plus
To have a review
Changed many or few
July Twenty-Nine

Along the hallway
Assorted away
On the very first floor
Left-side corridor
Stage facing audience

I’ve not expected
4th Leaf’s connected
3rd Leaf’s appendix
Book-making matrix
Now it’s really real!

-07/30/2011
(Dumarao)
*My Toladas Collection
My Poem No. 46
The alarm has stopped ringing
And, I want to get out
I want to smell the white dahlias
And see the blooming Bougainville
But I got to hold tight
For it won't be right.

Morning stroll has taken a troll
For god's sake, I am bored at home
Doing nothing has become an ideal chore
And now, I feel like fat Thor.

What situation is this
When the air is right
But we haven't earned the celebration right

I miss those gleaming laughter therapies
But I won't risk my family hierarchy
My hands are trembling;
My eyes are dim and white
But I manage to pull through a smile for those at the frontline...

                   ~NIKITA MANSINGHKA

— The End —