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When a boy thinks of a girl

his cheeks don't go red,
nor do his pupils dilate
but his heart beats as fast
as a horse's gallop in race

His lips strongly tremble
in the midst of conversation
his legs that won't settle
due to headstrong infatuation

her beauty overwhelms him
her cold hand warms his heart
her gaze,  like Medusa's
a romantic work of art

his thoughts full of appreciation
for whatever form she may have
a wonderful mem'ry,  imagination
a thought that can't be grasped

his thoughts he can't express
his mouth he cannot open
his words he can't confess
but his heart, ť was always broken

but all this is not really
'bout when a boy thinks of a girl
because in these words you can tell
that he always has loved her.
does the girl think of the boy?
We've all got mental problems,
Some of us hide them better.
How about that weather?

Tripping the syntax,
And I'm having difficulty
discerning my sanity right now.

There's a voice in the wind
at the throat of the world.
The sacrificial alter will hear me roar.

I'm on a duel-carriageway to crazy,
And the horses gallop onward.

Strange tidings through car doors,
Soft footfall on sand-torn shores.

Want to know whats wrong with the earth?
More violence, less hair,
And people don't hang around beaches anymore.
Betrayal stirs.
You untamed,
slip through my hands,
like the Sahara sands,
you untamed like the ever growing fields of green,
you,
not,
the,
same,
as different as the untamed tides of the moon's rise!
Crashing in to the sands of the home to you roam,
Untamed like the soft whispering spirits of the wind,
through,
the,
air,
untamed,
like the gallop of a stallion,
free,
Your heart wild,
untamed,
your,
heart,
untamed,
the way that you look at me,
untamed you see,
can I tame you now,
your,
love,
untamed,
by,
those,
who,
can,
not,
see,
who you really are,
to,
me,
your heart like the ever growing glades,
you,
untamed...
The rhythm of this poem is made possible by the rhythm of "A thousand years" by Christina Perri
guy scutellaro Oct 2018
(Kathleen's birthday, part two,  unedited version)


"Daddy," the little girl has her hands folded and is looking up at her father. "When will it stop? I want to get on."

"Soon, darling," her father assures her.

"I don't think it'll ever stop." The little girl says.

"Sweetie it'll stop." Daddy takes her gently by the hand, gently squeezes. "See it's stopping now."


When the carousel slows down but has not quite stopped, Kathleen steps onto the platform and grabs the brass support pole. The momentum of the machine grabs her with a **** onto the ride and into a white horse with big blue eyes. Dropping her cigarette, she takes hold of the pole that goes through the center of the horse. She struggles to put her foot into the stirrup, finds it, and throws her leg over the horse. The carousel music begins to play. The ride trembles and starts with a jolt.

A man is staring at Kathleen. Sitting on the pony has made her short skirt ride well up on her shapely legs, but she is too drunk to care. When the man comes over, she hands him her ticket.

The ticket man goes over to the little girl and her daddy who are sitting in a gold chariot pulled by two red horses.

The little girl looks at her father, and says, "Ooooh, daddy, I love this."

The man smiles back and strokes his daughter's hair.


The heat makes the dizziness that Kathleen is feeling grow worse and as the ride picks up speed, she begins to see two of everything. There are two rows of pinball machines, eight flashing signs, and too many prize machines. The red , blue, and green lights from the ride signs blend together like when a car drives at night down a wet street. She feels the impulse to *****.

"Can we go on again?" The little girl asks.

"But honey the ride isn't over yet."

Kathleen finds that if she concentrates on other things the dizziness and the nausea become less severe. She tries to perceive the images as a montage like the elements that make up a painting or life. When she does this, and as she becomes accustom to the movement of the machine, the floating , spinning objects come together. The circling ride creates a cooling breeze and the blurring of lights becomes a beautiful waterfall.

The horses in front are always becoming the horses in the back and the horses in back are always turning into the horses in front. All horses gallop ahead. Settling back into the saddle, she follows them riding her white pony towards the receding waterfall.

You can lose all sense of the clock and who you are and that is alright with Kathleen. That is the way she feels. She has left something behind her. She does not know what, but whatever it is, the merry-go- round will chase it away.

She leans forward to embrace the ride.

Then just as suddenly as it started, the ride is slowing down. The music stops playing.

First she feels the heat and then the sickness in her stomach as the dizziness returns. Kathleen climbs down off the pony. She goes careening backwards and then she lunges for balance falling forward. The merry-go-round trembles, starts with a **** , and rights her. Slowly, it picks up speed bringing her to the exit of the building. Kathleen stumbles down off the platform and goes through the  exit door careening into a railing and almost falling into Wesley Lake.

All the terrible things that people did to her comes crawling back to her like the sounds of an animal dying in its hidden place. The wisdom is heavy and centers just below her naval.

She takes a few steps to the curb, hears the carousel music and knows the ride is beginning again. Kathleen sits down on the sidewalk curb and it all comes out choking her, taking her breath away. The ****** abuse, self doubt, the alienation and loneliness, it all comes out, and she is enlightened.

There is so much of it so she lies down facing a world of decaying buildings and broken dreams. Her marvelous mind holds a perfect picture of the memories. Years in various foster homes where she felt like she never had a home. 

 Her son comes and sits with her on the couch. Her arm around him as they listen to the din of thunder.

Jack's sad face stares up at her from the table where he is sitting on the night they met. "I'm one -third Sioux, " she tells him, tasting the smoke from her cigarette as she exhales, and he smiles at her so she sits down.

But the mockingbird is singing from the world of scattered thoughts and empty lots. The images shoot off into a dark land, exploding, illuminating, then growing dim and dimmer, light and warmth fading into cold and darkness.

(next part resumes with Jack  playing pool at the bar)
A  perfect reflection of your own , it's your own mirror image.
You write your own story on your life's page .
Yes! It's a imperfectly perfect life!

Why search for a perfect moment ?
You are already living one .
Find reasons to discover yourself and give answers to none .
No ! You are not a saint or a sage .
Because you are writing your own story on your life's page.
Yes! It's a imperfectly perfect life!

Don't dwell in the past ,don't worry about the future .
Live in the present , assure yourself of being a perfect creature , because you are writing your own story on your life's page .
Yes ! It's a imperfectly perfect life .

Create good memories that you will cherish , for one day you are going to perish .
when they walk down the memory lane , they will picture your life full of joy which overcame all the obstacles and pain , because you are writing your story on your life's page .
Yes! It's a imperfectly perfect life.

When hard times befall upon you and life tests you more and more ,
Get onto the life's boat  and row yourself to the shore .
Take the reins in your hand ,
master the courage to gallop through the hot sand , because you are writing your story on your  life's page .
Yes ! It's a imperfectly perfect life.

©Mrunalini.D.Nimbalkar
This poem was a outcome of frustrated thoughts during my son's exams times and the pressures of it all....22.12.2018
Yes, I'm a girl and I'm not trying to justify my body language nor am I positioning the rights of a feminist on the top, but
Yes, I was questioned always, even when I was right.
Subservience was legitimized as my trait ever since I felt this world.
Every time when I was buckled under by his lecherous eyes, I was asked to adjust my dupatta well.
Every action of mine substantiated the height to which I'll hold the name of my family.
I was asked to cross legs while sitting, speak amicably, yet not solitously.
Every time I'd to hide my period stain like a ****** blot.
I was asked to gallop my cramps because letting it out is a bitter sin.
Yes, I get my body scanned by their lewd gaze day in and out even when I put my baggiest of clothes on.
Yes, I'm a girl, and I have beautiful synonyms, call me maal, patola, bomb, *****, *** or a girl? May be, let yourself decide.
Yes, I'm questioned on the extension of the Roti's that I make and the smiles that I couldn't fake.
Yes, I'm a girl and I'll stand, and question your authority if it calls for, call me stubborn. Okay!
Remember, I'm a girl, and if you accuse me of being a feminist if I know, and can raise my tone up and against your authority, humanism needs to be checked then.
-APARAJITA TRIPATHI
As I am exiting the Abandoned Castle to retrieve what Aziel asked me to get for him a thought comes to mind.. - I wonder what he is going reward me with- I follow a short trail that quickly leads me to the Forest of Whispers suddenly I hear Aziel's voice echo in my head. Aziel: "Frank follow the Trail of Tears Northwest about 12 miles from where you stand there you will find yourself in front of a small creek follow it to the end and to your left there will be a small cave and to your immediate right there will be a huge stone that's been there for thousands of years it's practically impenetrable. However, I will land you my power to pass thru it but first you must enter the small cave and retrieve a sacred relic from it. Good luck my Mortal friend." Frank: Aziel what if I get lost? What about this relic and what do you mean you'll lend me your power?" Aziel: "Don't worry I will explain everything in full detail once your at the site and don't worry about getting lost...A raven will follow you from now on and if you get lost just whistle as loud as you can it will fly ahead of you to show you what route to take" Frank: " Thank you Aziel I will keep all that in mind." As I press on deeper and deeper into the Forest I am fascinated with its Beautiful scenery.

It's 11pm and I class start to get weary so I sit down in the midst of the woods in the Forest. Suddenly I hear a weak gallop like some sort of horse coming closer and closer to where am sitting...so I get up hesitant and finally I see a figure come out of the wilderness and to my surprise it's a creature half man half horse and I whisper to myself "Whoa it's a centaur...." The centaur gets closer to me and it speaks to me in a cold voice....
"What are you doing here in the middle of the Forest almost at midnight human...don't you know it's dangerous to be out here?" I look at the mighty centaur his lower part of the body is indeed a horse with furs at it's feet and the color of his full fur is golden yellowish. I examine his human half and he is covered by battle scars and he seems quite strong in his upper body. I also notice he has green eyes the color of emerald and what seems like 3 claw like scars in his face. I sit quietly for a moment then reply ... Frank: " I made a promise to retrieve something for someone and I am here to fulfill my task." He smiles at me and proceeds to talk. Centaur: " My name is Neur Blackthorn I am the Leader of the Golden Centaurs protectors of the Forest of Whispers. You see am looking for a sacred relic known as Ghruthemtox it's a breast plate made out of the skull of a Cyclop known as Mathalam who lived 3000 years ago here in this very forest and was the Creator and protector of this very place known now as The Forest Of Whispers. Legend tells that whoever finds all the pieces of the breast plate and wears it will be granted 1000 years added to his life span and tremendous magical power. I want this relic in my possession. I heard there are 5 pieces to the breastplate all scattered in this very Forest. If you are able to come across the relic itself it will guide you to all five remaining pieces so legend foretold. It's some sort of magical map the relic itself...but I heard it can only be touched by human hands because if it's touched by anything else the creature or being itself will perish immediately." -Neur looks at me attentively- Frank: - " So let me get this straight...you want me to get this relic for you? Am I right?" Neur: " That's right...in return I shall grant you what you seek from the forest. So tell me what is it that you want to retrieve?" Frank: " I want a vial of her blood from the Goddess of the Forest...Nabyah." Neur: " I will talk to her in your behalf...but I cannot guarantee the blood itself." -I look at Neur with some disgust and disappointment- Neur: " Fine Mortal I will do my very best to retrieve this for you as long as you can find me the relic..." -All the sudden I hear Aziel telepathically communicates to me and he says "Frank what are you doing meddling with Centaurs you cannot trust them...It's a dangerous task he asks of you plus he might **** you after retrieving this relic I advice you play it safe and tell him you will do what he says but with your own mission." Frank: -I speak to Aziel telepathically and I can do this due to the fact he lands me his power to do so...in order for both to speak to each other without no one else knowing...- "Right don't worry I am going to pretend to aid him then do my own thing..." Aziel: " Smart young lad ...don't worry he won't know nothing and by the way I advice you try to stay away from this Centaurs I think they might be linked to the Goddess herself...somewhat." Frank: " Right...now I will proceed..."

All the sudden Neur looks at me with curiosity...Neur: " You look like you where day dreaming for a while...fine I will leave you alone, but please find this I will reward you with what you seek I promise. Now get some rest I will come back to you at midnight" -He dashes towards the darkness of the Forest and disappears in the wilderness...-

--->TO BE CONTINUED

KEY


Trail Of Tears the path where many knights from the Order have shed blood sweat and tears. Many of them have never made it out alive.  Golden Centaurs Protectors of the Forest of Whispers who settled in the Forest 1000's of years ago. Accursed by a Powerful Witch they where once human but no longer have retained their humanity. Now creatures of the forest some of them seek to lift up the curse.
Ghruthemtox An ancient relic worn by a Cyclop Shaman Creator/Protector of the Forest Of Whispers that gave him strong magical prowess.
Protectors Forest Of Whispers ...they where those should work something out. Thanks man.
Red barn pony-
graze the straw
growing on
lone star soil.
Life is a gallop
and a kick against
your neighbors' deadwood.
Your master has
a swayback metal roof
to climb you on,
and a hundert year old
ground to plow for
nuthin'. In between
your velvet ears
all the world is
contained in a pack
of coyote yips.

Sara Fielder © June 2018
Stu Harley Mar 22
clouds
are
the
shape of
wild stallions
that
gallop
with
thunder and lightning
through
the
cobalt sky
pioneer Apr 19
death is a carousel
spinning; like the uneasiness
i feel as you calibrate
a bracelet towards my narrow wrist
with wooden horses as beads
while our gentle hands hold like nylon

it continues as the gears
like the choices we make
dance to the looped circus music
the acid in our stomach
react as we gallop through tragedy
just then we realize
if one of us steps down
the ride would be fun no more
but darling
it is time  
the coin has taken its toll.
Donna Jun 26
When I reached fifty
My wisdom blossomed and my
quick patience mellowed

My mum once said once
you get to fifty it all
goes down hill..cheers mum!!

Well she’s right I must
confess!! My bones are aching
I need a x-ray

My hearing is dim
Er excuse me what did you
say!! As for my teeth

well let’s just say you
got to love a dentist..there
mouth plates are so good!!

As for my hair a
once thriving chestnut brown now
spiked with strands of grey!!

And *** what’s
with the weight issue , I
look like a chunky

mashmellow!! Getting
old is never easy but
one thing I’ve learnt is

to just live with all
these minor health problems , I
suppose a water

park is out of the
question this year , too many
stairs to climb and slides

as high as the sky!
Nope I’ve got to slow down like
the snails who take life

slow and quietly!
Not sure about being to
quiet not with my massive
family..mad lot!

But a lovable
mad lot , the best , my hero’s!  
Everyday one smile

from each of my kids
sets me up for my sunny
day! One look from my

husband makes my heart
gallop with joy! Getting old
as it’s fallbacks but

the love from love
ones makes my old bones not seem
too bad really..minor

issues compare to
others who suffer much more
than I!! Today my

achy arm hurts but
one paracetamol and
a glass of water

I should be okay!
Got to live life happy cause
happy is awesome :-))
x ❤️❤️ Forget all about my haikudairies until recently , anyway inspired to write one today **
May 11th, 2012 to August 28th, 2018
R.I.P. My Best Friend
You were here for such a short time

I can feel your spirit
within me and around me
and in the pasture
with the others you left behind

You were one of a kind
Your personality like no other
You were King of the pasture

With some work and persistence
you learned to respect me as the leader of the herd  (most days)

Our relationship grew into an amazing friendship
A bond like I've never felt before

You amazed me everyday
Your colors as beautiful as the sun
A coat mostly a deep red and gold
Your Mane and Tail mostly black with red highlights

Your movement was free and bold
Your gallop the best
Your Mane and Tail
blowing up into the wind
Your chest rhythmically drawing air into your lungs
Your nostrils flaring in excitement with some snorting too

When you arrived here into my pasture and my heart
You were a force to be reckoned with as a Stallion
Gelding you didn't change you into a docile horse as expected
Your personality was yours and nothing would change it

You were my favorite
You will forever be in my heart

I miss you everyday
I miss your kisses with your
warm and wet tongue
I miss you following me around to see what I was doing
I even miss when you tried to use my head as your chin rest
I didn't even mind when you were pushy or stepped on my toes
I loved warming my hands on your neck under your thick mane
I loved knowing that when I looked into your beautiful brown eyes
I knew you were looking back at me with love and understanding

It was the saddest night of my life when you had to leave us behind
The unfortunate accident that changed our destiny
A moment of time that
can never be taken back  
That whole day is forever
emblazoned in my mind

You left us no choice but to send you back to God to run in
His golden pastures
You will never be hungry or thirsty or cold ever again
Best part is no more pain

Wild and Free forever
in the light of heaven's pastures

I will see you again someday
when my time comes
I know this in my heart and soul

You are physically gone from our lives but you will
never be forgotten

You are and will always be our Lucky 
Always in the hearts of those that loved you most

I will love you forever

Author: Julia LaRae Vogel
I have written and rewritten this so many times.  The first was written right after his death.  The second was a try at making it less like a story and more like a poem, it continued to be a draft.  Now I hope it gets published as a poem.
O lady o ,
When I first saw you ,
you’re beauty was it not plucked like a carnation Gods gardens of delight ?
Or had the snake who saw you stand there ,
so to draw blood from my very sight ?
For I have ridden in dark forests by day ,
past pine ,
and firn
for even they could never draw out the love in you’re eyes ,
or the tender way you’re White carnations flew on by .

The sunset with its colours as vast as you’re breast ,
I have awaited every hour of every day ,
and there you are ,
You’re turrets tall and fair  youre  battlements  boast  of ore and steel ,
You’re cannons lit it’s flintlock poised ,

You’re hairs as black as the Lotus flower that gives its scent unto
the night ,
and grows all around you’re turrets so rare .


I will blow a kiss to you this evening ,
for the wind may howl ,
let its spirits deceive ,
this night you’re cannons I shall disarm ,
You’re turrets dismantle ,
you’re battlements besiege.
As for you’re carnations ,
shall I hold tight to my chest ?



For this night our bodies will entwine ,
as the firn and the pine ,
the bark and the yoke ,
to chase the sun ,
past forest glades,
gallop ,
as you hold my thighs ,
together we shall ride ,
Side by side .



This night we shall call our own lost in the pine forest ,
firn and flower .
For are they not dainty ones I shall pick for you this hour .

Then as the last rays of light called it a night ,
and the vast reds in all their array ,
could not stop my tears ,
one white carnation on the ground ,
without a note ,
quite profound ,
an empty space where you once stood ,
lies now a block of wood .

And I still mount thus every night ,
Galloping hopeless in faintest light ,
as faster than any knight ,
to gaze to where you once stood ,
for with thy white carnations must lie
my forever ,
beating ....
heart .
.
(Kathleen's birthday, part two.  )


"Daddy," the little girl has her hands folded and is looking up at her father. "When will it stop? I want to get on."

"Soon, Darling," her father assures her.

"I don't think it'll ever stop." The little girl says.

"Sweetie it'll stop, the ride always stops." Daddy takes her gently by the hand, gently squeezes. "See it's stopping now."


When the carousel slows down but has not quite stopped, Kathleen steps onto the platform and grabs the brass support pole. The momentum of the machine grabs her with a **** onto the ride and into a white horse with big blue eyes. Dropping her cigarette, she takes hold of the pole that goes through the center of the horse. She struggles to put her foot into the stirrup, finds it, and throws her leg over the horse. The carousel music begins to play. The ride trembles and starts with a jolt.

A man is staring at Kathleen. Sitting on the pony has made her short skirt ride well up on her shapely legs, but she is too drunk to care. When the man comes over, she hands him her ticket.

The ticket man goes over to the little girl and her daddy who are sitting in a gold chariot pulled by two red horses.

The little girl looks at her father, and says, "Ooooh, Daddy, I love this."

The man smiles back and strokes his daughter's hair. "So do I."


The heat makes the dizziness that Kathleen is feeling grow worse and as the ride picks up speed, she begins to see two of everything. There are two rows of pinball machines, eight flashing signs, and too many prize machines. The red , blue, and green lights from the ride signs blend together like when a car drives at night down a rain soaked street. She feels the impulse to *****.

"Can we go on again?" The little girl asks.

"But honey the ride isn't over yet."

Kathleen finds that if she concentrates on other things the dizziness and the nausea become less severe. She tries to perceive the images as a montage like the elements that make up a painting or  a life. When she does this, and as she becomes accustom to the movement of the machine, the floating , spinning objects come together. The circling ride creates a cooling breeze and the blurring of lights becomes a beautiful waterfall.

The horses in front are always becoming the horses in the back and the horses in back are always turning into the horses in front. All horses gallop ahead. Settling back into the saddle, she follows them riding her white pony towards the receding waterfall.

You can lose all sense of the clock and who you are and that is alright with Kathleen. That is the way she feels. She has left something behind her. She does not know what, but whatever it is, the merry-go- round will chase it away.

She leans forward to embrace the ride.

Then just as suddenly as the it started, the ride is stopping, the music stops playing.

Kathleen climbs down off the horse as the Merry-go-round is slowing down. She stumbles off the platform and staggers out the door of the amusement park.

"****, *******," Kathleen yells, still too drunk, careening into the railing and almost falling into Wesley Lake.

She walks a few steps, sits down on the curb, hears the carousel music, and knows the ride is starting again, and all the terrible dreams that people do crawls into her like the sounds of a dying animal from its hidden place.

And it all comes up taking her breath away. There is so much of it so she lays down on the grass facing the street of broken buildings full of broken people. From the empty lot of scattered thoughts the Mockingbird is singing and the images shoot off into the dark landscape, exploding for an illuminating moment, only to grow dimmer, light and warmth fading into cold darkness.
nawke Jul 2018
once in my sanctuary
it came in a loud gallop
followed by a wallop
my sorrowful lumbar
detaching the fear
of a clumsy blunder

shifted away from
the law of physics  
an emptied vessel unmoved
like a sealed vacuum
certain a final curtain
pin drop in code of silence

light time alliances
whooshing me into
ethereal plains
a sublime hemisphere
of infinitesimal space, time
an indescribable beyond

gentle breezes
feathery light teases
soon a star-gazing eyes
darted through a
zero gravity galaxy of an
endless empyrean expanse

a’turnin spherical sight
orange white stripes
rosely red spot
churning roiling clouds
speckled dusty rings
what beauteous it shrouds

why am I here
a knowing voice appeared
melodically close but I
can only behold afar
of an ethereally existential
interstellar manifold

questioning mind
told of convoluted ways
as seen and heard
the rhymes and seasons but
for one and the only reason
mankind's whisper'd words

entrance to the portal
as did my dawned immortal  
met a peaceful assembly
I lay in days, this rapturous gifts
what divine effulgence of
a truly cosmic lift
July 2016 - the trip to somewhere
I long soon, to come and see you, again and again
patty m Oct 21
When Anheuser-Busch was bought out I was surprised they kept up the beautiful brewery in St Louis along with the wonderful stable where the Clydesdales are kept, but I was thrilled when they did so.    

I grew up a block away from the brewery.  My Grandpa worked there and 3 of my uncles. My house is now an interstate, but thankfully the brewery remains and of course the stables. I spent so much of my childhood going down the block to visit the horses.  All the stablemen knew me and my Mom and Dad and they loved
teasing me when I was a little girl with long auburn curls.  I was allowed to sit high up on the polished wagons and there was always a new batch of Dalmatian pups, they had different names, but when they rode on the wagons, they all became Spot.  The Clydesdales up close are overwhelming and glorious.  Huge bays with White manes and feathering around their hooves, much taller than any man, 18 hands high some taller some weighing in at 2000 pounds.  Many times I was allowed to sit atop a Clydesdale, my legs stretched wide to keep astride that gentle giant.  Sometimes they would lead me around the yard and I felt like a queen.  You've never seen such a hive of activity as parade day.  Each horse was showered and scrubbed and then their feathering around the hooves was brushed out until it was snowy and fluffy.  The mane was brushed too and then braided in a special way with ribbons.  How proud they stood, knowing the order they would be harnessed to the wagon.  When everyone one was in their place they lifted their hooves in a special way, prancing.  Once coming over a hill in a sunlit mist they looked as if they were coming out of the clouds, what a beautiful sight to behold.  Later we moved to a  house near to Grants Farm.  Originally it was built by the Busch family as a place the Clydesdales could have space to graze and gallop.  They have lots of other animals there too, and a petting zoo.  So you see I too have a special love for these hard working draught horses.  Some of my friends at the stables would take some of the horses to Scotland for breeding, I always wanted to go along but never made it there
Last year Budweiser didn't put the Clydesdales in it's holiday beer ads, using a puppy instead for it's cuteness factor.  Are the Clydesdales those glorious creatures being put out to pasture for good?
Anheuser Busch is trying to attract a younger crowd, and evidently tradition is a thing of the past.  What next, the end of Charlie Browns' Christmas, the lighting of the tree?  Soon all will be gadgetry and neon, with texted messages instead of Christmas cards, maybe a superhero Santa blasting his way through the wall,  and what of  Christianity will that to be eliminated too?  I see it happening today  and cringe when things I've taken for granted are swept way.  Now our constitution is in jeopardy, and the land of the free.  I pray people won't be deceived by socialist promises.  May we stay strong in our beliefs, " God Bless America."
She had
more
important
things
to
do,
like
gallop
through nature
&
scream
at
the
moon.


12:53am
#priorities #nature #moon #poetry #follow #like #AMstardust
Under a shady Banyan tree,
i am a unicorn, my lone horn is shining,
front hooves raised, set to gallop, to help
dreams and desires to materialize...
:::::
on another day, i'm a silver-haired erudite,
amidst scrolls and volumes of  tomes,
pondering on THAT, which ruffles my waters,
and defies what i've known, what i believe in;
i'm challenged, i pursue the topic.....i write,
and when pleasance rules.....verses swell...
:::::
however, when my mind is drought-driven,
and my days fail me, i become a banshee,
wailing my ineptitude...my inadequacy,
warning myself...of worst days coming...
there's nary a line, or a verse to celebrate
when exists, this poverty, in poetry......
:::::
i see a poet sailing on either one of two rivers
one always moves on...wind tiptoes on its
surface, its ripples are soldiers marching on...
the other river is snagged...flows off and on;
but, water always finds, creates new paths,
eventually, it flows....at times, it overflows...
::::::
the urge to write is water to the poet,
touching his/her toes...always reminding,
there's plenty to write, out there...in here...
you suddenly hear rain hitting roof like nails
or, the neighbor's car revving up, the smoke
and noise ruin your morning air...it irks you,
giving way to an angry 10-word....or haiku...

in poetry...bad and good days occur, whether
near, far, or under a shady Banyan tree....


Sally

Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
July 4, 2019
( "Under a shady Banyan tree" is a cozy, comfortable place,
   where i write, or just reflect..where inspirations are birthed.)
SassyJ Aug 2018
In dreams again we lacked the words
those that reach deep within our hearts
those that only our eyes could follow
to the gentle flowing ever-giving springs

You sat with me by the glowing sunlight
where the rays were radiant and warm
we locked in the fervour of the day
and got lost under the raging waters

I have always wanted to make you a story
where you would follow me uninhibited
as the horses gallop in the open fields
unrestrained and freed to ponder

In chaos the fire burn deep in our eyes
as we stare each other eyes trying
prying the depths of our wounded hearts
as the meaning of this frame is apparent

Come here and lay in my bed as we do
opening doors of unknown adventures
as no physical eyes would offer me more
ohh...see the nakedness of the bestowed beauty
Seriously in love with my muse, the unseen, the unknown
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