"pleasance" poems
The sight of rain,
of wet clothes, wet plants,
wet doorsteps, wet hopes and dreams,
and, that known scent of sadness and grief
all these...create soggy, sluggish minds
we just lost two dogs to the virus
the glum of monsoon rains affects the moods
the "yays" from cancelled classes
have all passed...
sun is shining, not too bright, though,
peeps like a tease, but,
enough to dry the ground...
i see vacant lots...almost naked now
motor's droning hum is a lullaby
that lulls the mind
a strong smell stirs the nostrils and
defines a welcome pleasance...
i sniff....and chase away sadness,
with this intriguing scent
.....of freshly cut grass....
Sally
© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
July 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 6:19 AM UTC
It will never be easy as some people would say
To see the black and white but still think in gray
Admitting that the extreme end of one side isn’t always the way to go
Unless the lack of redeeming qualities simply make it so
Especially in matters left to one’s personal choice
It calls for the need to look at those of different perspectives and voice
Changes around us require both firmness and flexibility
To get with the times that abounds in ambiguity
In an atmosphere that show a scarcity of pleasance
It would help if in our eyes there is balance
Facing the fact that flaws and fine points can actually coexist
That understanding is the aid for ones inner peace to persist
Tolerance for differences must be present as a form of diplomacy
Though decency must still take root and defend ones boundary
Respecting choices for the sake of peace is truly a noble aspiration
But not before the light and shadow have gone through careful separation
Acceptance and rejection can be balanced though challenging it may sound
An equal and balanced blend of both needed to pave a road in walking the middle ground.
Oct 10, 2018
Oct 10, 2018 at 10:28 PM UTC
Nothing So Sensuous
Last night, I went back in time and met Alice Liddell in 1862.
Alice Pleasance Liddell, known for most of her adult life by her married name, Alice Hargreaves, inspired the children's classic Alice's Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll, whose protagonist Alice is said to be named after her. See her, greet her, in my banner photo, and all will clear.
~~~~~~~~~
nothing so sensuous
as to watch a woman,
nay, a woman child,
brush her hair
in the mirror.
sensuous,
more than sensual,
all my senses
affected.
luxuriating in a gift that
cannot be
bought,
her head titled,
then thrown
from her chest as far back,
your eyes see waves
of chestnut in
slow motion,
the smile on her face
for the knowing that
she has
sorcerer succeeded
in capturing
all of you.
mesmerizer,
she languidly strokes
her hair,
though it needs it not.
no, she brushes you
to your
knees,
your eyes,
see her eyes,
in the mirror,
the woman's sensuality
maddening.
every sense alerted,
you body fired,
far beyond
merely stirred,
she has you,
and then she asks...
would you brush my hair?
have you ever been in love?
*have you ever had to tell someone
you no longer loved them
though you still did?*
you answer:
Oh yes, Oh may I?
yes, with you totally, at this very instant.
**yes, for I
must leave you
and return to
my time, my age,
150 years from now**
*the only way
I can do that
is to lie to myself,
no, I do not love you
that much,
not that way,
pretense,
for the agony of this*
impermissible desire
is such ecstasy,
that I can
only dare to
write of it,
in my time,
lest I fulfill
it in ours.
Dec 4, 2013
Dec 4, 2013 at 5:40 AM UTC
Through the gardens
Head over heels
Over and ahead hills
Time met a forcefield...
"Love Metaphor's Field"
Shall we cross
The lines of the path
Pass pastures
The past matters
It's the path to the present
Pleasance
Now
Is the time
To take the future
A few Daisies at a time
Thier radiance
So similar to the sun
But Sunflowers disagree
To the utmost degree
And they still wave
Peace
The Rose says
Romance is beauty
In the eyes that behold her
Forgetmenot's
Are unforgiving
To those who don't...
Memories
Remind us
Of the pasts importance
And we move foward
Through assortments of bouquets
New day
Others aren't as please
The violets hide under trees
And shade thier purple face
And sing the blues
No jolly
Oh
Holly ornaments
Hang accross vines
And intertwine tight as twine
Or a kiss...
Tulips under the mistletoe
Such bliss
As free as insects
The Beatles
Eat the ripe fruit of life
We share
No one cares
There's
Strawberry Fields Forever
Sweet scents
As we swing
Life has been like a Jasmine
Imitating that yellow sun
And it's will
While we walk without haste
Through Love Metaphor's Feild
Sep 30, 2010
Sep 30, 2010 at 1:09 PM UTC
Lucid silhouettes melt the air into psychedelic fluorescence,
realities cast upon fleshy darkness forgotten by the light of day.
Look on with distraught eyes as we dance through dark pleasance.
I wonder of God and Lucifer, good times they had in their heyday.
We race towards an apparent end; it's no apparition.
Return to your mother and her blessings, its time to meditate,
you've almost seen reality; can you finally see the evil of your disposition?
War, I mean ****** only perpetuates the hate.
Coercion and lies spread like wildfire, mystifying mind, body, and soul.
Buy that item, it looks cool. Six months later, obsolete, you fools.
If you've learned anything in life, don't get ****** at the troll,
and don't be scared at the screams at night, just demons and ghouls.
My mind is one hell of a maze, just got lost in a schizophrenic phase,
or was it spirits in the transparent haze, plunging back into my cosmic gaze.
Sep 7, 2012
Sep 7, 2012 at 1:22 AM UTC
The now has left my body.
My mind is emptying
Of all thought of today.
The moment is receding;
I feel my feet lifting
My arms are floating
As if in a pool of light
Like water, buoying me
With untouching caresses
Lofting to evanescence
And I know it is fine
This feeling of pleasance
Of no worries in me
No hurrying to be done
Nowhere I have to be
No reason to run.
I am centered in this,
A feeling of completeness;
Of needing nothing else,
A spiritual sweetness,
A relaxing kind of comfort
Surrounds and enfolds
By singing unheard songs
Deep into my very soul.
I am happy here, smiling,
Somewhere in the self
Where not even I can see,
That I am someone else.
I am someone loving
And kind and caring.
I love this feeling so
I wish I were sharing
The sense of a world
Where everything is right
And everyone is floating
In the same golden light.
Sep 5, 2015
Sep 5, 2015 at 12:09 AM UTC
I miss the little girl you used to be,
you're now just a shell of who I used to see.
Your eyes used to twinkle as you found something funny,
but now they are dead and you barely smile, honey.
You used to dream the impossible and had hope in your heart,
but I've seen the way the world broke you - now destruction is your art.
You couldn't be protected from the evil presence,
so you escape reality with the drugs that give you pleasance.
You used to cry when you grazed your knees on the floor,
but now you don't even flinch when you cut your wrists to the core.
You used to ask why people would want to die,
but now you understand all too well as you lay in bed and cry.
You used to pretend tic tacs were medicine as you popped them on your tongue,
but now you sit with hundreds of pills in your hand wondering whether life is worth it; you're only young.
You used to be full of life and enjoyed most of your days,
but now you're dead behind your mask and you're always in a daze.
He may have won the last eleven battles as you tried to end your life,
but I am telling you that you will win this war this time and above him you shall rise.
I miss the little girl you used to be,
you're now just a shell of who I used to see.
Jan 1, 2016
Jan 1, 2016 at 3:58 PM UTC
Another day has dawned
and I find myself alone-
although I’m not lonely,
I’m drawn unto His throne
by the blessed solitude
of being in His Presence.
This indescribably peace
of spiritual pleasance…
fuels my unsatisfied hunger
for only the Divine things,
that serve my earthly purpose
to honor my righteous King.
There’s no greater treasure,
than spending personal time,
ascending the spiritual climb
with Him… at Heaven’s shrine.
.
.
.
Author Notes
Inspired by:
Psa 118:24
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2015, All rights reserved.
Jun 19, 2015
Jun 19, 2015 at 9:15 AM UTC
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
Jul 3, 2019
Jul 3, 2019 at 11:43 PM UTC
i want
big, doe eyes
that you can't take seriously
even when i'm yelling at you
face red, voice scratchy
at 3am
to leave.
i want
soft, wispy hair
that you'd twirl round and round
telling me you love me, i'm your baby &
eyes red, voice low
at 3am
i'd tell you the same.
i want
a nose only fit for pleasance
that'd allow me to enjoy the roses
you brought to apologize for coming home late
hair up, voice hushed
at 3am
and not the alcohol on your breath.
i want
featherweight skin
so when you pull me by your side
there is only a thin layer of cells between our hearts
noses turned, voices unheard
at 3am
i hug you closer.
i want
a burning ambition to make things work
that would keep this alive
whatever this may be
skin tight, voices livid
at 3am
waking up the neighbors.
i want
to be 80 pounds again
so you would carry me back
when i fall asleep in the car, hand clasped with yours
mind on hold, your sweet lullaby
at 3am
sending me back to sleep.
oh,
i'm not trying to be perfect
i just want you to stick around a little longer
deep down
i know i can change
but the problem is you
Apr 8, 2013
Apr 8, 2013 at 11:06 PM UTC
Joy comes to us, when we have…
a clear direction for our life.
Staying on the right path means
walking by the Light of Christ.
When following His divine course,
comfort is found in His Presence
and eternal pleasures are at hand,
for a lifetime of sacred pleasance.
The Kingdom of Heaven is akin to…
buried treasure, hidden in a field.
There’s a great expectation found
in the promise of what it may yield.
Do you know the track meant for you?
Has your secret prize been revealed?
His upright children receive both grace
and glory, since He’s our sun and shield.
Know that He has a plan to prosper all,
from thoughts of peace and not of evil;
He wants us to succeed, with His approval
and not suffer from spiritual upheaval.
.
.
.
Author Notes
Inspired by:
Psa 16:11, 84:11; Matt 13:44; Jer 29:11
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2015, All rights reserved.
Sep 24, 2015
Sep 24, 2015 at 2:33 PM UTC
perspective, getting the evidence
setting your goal on new impression
an acceptance of a blessing prevalence
the forever treasure of getting to heaven
objective, setting new precedence
no measuring the feeling of pleasance
an omnipresence, and a gift of reverence
nothing is better than getting new presents
Sep 29, 2015
Sep 29, 2015 at 3:52 PM UTC
I sat in this chair for no more than a day,
yet it felt more like from October to May.
The winter came early and refused to go,
I begged you to spare me but you could not even reply with a single "No."
Those dimples you once cared to love,
only one remains,
the other flew away like a dove
being released from its restraints.
The smile you brought just by your presence,
decided to drift,
no longer feeling any pleasance,
no more a "kick" or "swift".
I sat in this chair for no more than a day,
yet it felt more like October to May.
I sat in this very chair,
long enough to see the change in the air.
I sat in that very chair for far too long,
because you are not where you belong.
You died that very day,
which felt more like October to May.
- l.c.g.
Nov 25, 2013
Nov 25, 2013 at 8:44 PM UTC
Summer showers that glisten with gold
Envelope me in a warm embrace
The tiny droplets that fall uncontrolled
Gently drip on my smiling face
The altered world through this golden mist
Is strangely new in a silly way
Divine are the things that the rain has kissed
Dull was the world before this gold day
Rocky shores off in the distance
Lush green meadows all around
This is such a peaceful pleasance
Reclusive life size playground
Such an enchanting wonderland
Golden specks in the clouds of cream
Summer showers fall as I stand
Even if only in my dreams
Mar 18, 2013
Mar 18, 2013 at 7:55 PM UTC
Soft evening light
washed away their blemishes,
resulting in a pleasance;
the effect is of water color painting.
Holding coffee mugs,
a man and woman sat face to face
on rough wooden benches
leaning on the back rest
under the green umbrella
of a tree standing still.
Though in an unlikely age,
they were lost
in to each other's eyes,
yet his left eye captured
the blue silhouette,
of a dreamy mountain
at a distance.
Perhaps they have
lot of stories to share,
commotion of sprightly kids
running around them in circles,
filled a void, long existed;
made them forget losses,
though for a bit.
They wouldn't have met
long ago, it's evident,
but how much they could exchange
even without words!
May 28, 2012
May 28, 2012 at 12:48 PM UTC
¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯ ¯
a song of gallimaufry!
of that lively—
lonely street
a Troubadour a'play
his fingers clog at fret passé
as charming women bravely seek―――――
“Red rouge and diamond eyes of gray
this fair and mellow-mannered mare!”
his brilliant eyes went spying (and
they stole the skies of May from there!)
to spite the clement nightmare!
of that pungent—
porter street
the cleats of noble mounts
they pace the pleasance he recounts
his smile and case lay wide and chic――――
“Red felt, if you would be so kind,
solicit further coin and bill!”
his learn’ed ears went hearing (and
what ditty does remind him still?)
of the love and subtle thrill!
of that gloom ick—
ridden street
a drunk man kinks apace
an eager look be on his face
in wayward want of his mystique―――――
“Ready nigh my pick-n-anchor
pick on of mutt-n-mutineer!”
his gentle heart went jarring (as
did he of sob'ring rancor spear)
t’ward gameless
watersweet
of that lone yet-
lively
scene . . .
Jul 31, 2015
Jul 31, 2015 at 11:42 AM UTC
The quintessence of Christian living and lifestyle,
is becoming more like Christ through everyday trials;
Flaunting documentation of accomplishments compiled,
will not impress The Almighty or even make Him smile.
Are you hungering or thirsting for His Righteousness?
Or is it some vain imaginary or visionary theorization
to demonstrate a haughtiness of spiritual intellect?
Just because you’re a part of Jehovah’s holy nation,
doesn’t mean that you can bully the unsaved to join.
The World understands and recognizes poor behaviors;
Doing what’s right and being satisfied before God,
implies that you are properly honoring our Savior
through personal conduct and true transparent living.
An increasing affinity for some spiritual pleasance,
is not equivalent to having a relationship with Him.
Religious ideologies are empty… without His Presence.
.
.
.
Author Notes
Inspired by:
Matt 5:6; Phil 1:9-11; Acts 20:17-21
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2015, All rights reserved.
Aug 6, 2015
Aug 6, 2015 at 11:04 AM UTC
If I am dreaming
May I never wake
Or end this bliss
For heaven's sake
Could this be real?
I feel your presence
Your love, your warmth
This never-ending pleasance
If this reality is a lie
At the night's end
The moon shall sigh
To say goodbye
To such a beautiful sight
Dec 30, 2013
Dec 30, 2013 at 7:53 PM UTC
slip,
silently into,
the water now,
with quiet ophelian grace
break ,
the tension
lying,
crying,
within mirrored surface
and breathe
the new world in
rinse,
repeat,
move forward.
leave the lost thoughts behind,
to scatter like
cherry blossom petals,
shed
from a dying mind.
watch
the ripple spread
concentric in it's flow
feel
the water's
silk, smooth, pleasance.
luxuriate,
in its embrace
rinse,
repeat
and flow.
grateful
for the calmitude
rinse,
repeat,
and know.
May 5, 2014
May 5, 2014 at 2:56 AM UTC
Dear sunrise, don’t fail to wake me.
Dear soul, don’t let Heaven take me.
I cannot miss this chance to rise,
To see the sparkle in your eyes.
Dear dreams, don’t preoccupy me.
Dear slumber, don’t lullaby me.
I cannot face this daily trial,
Without the beauty in your smile.
Dear eyesight, don’t fail to return.
Dear nightmares, don’t be my concern.
I cannot feel the Earth’s pleasance,
Without starting in your presence.
Dear morning, don’t fail to arrive.
Dear God, don’t forget I’m alive.
I cannot face this day anew,
Without a day that faces you.
Nov 12, 2018
Nov 12, 2018 at 8:00 AM UTC
Tender voice
Innocent smile
She had no choice
But to stay for a while
His words were poison
His charm a curse
She had a good reason
Yet she didn't refuse
Under the fragments
A rotten heart
Because of his absence
She fell apart
His very presence
Gave a reason to live
He found pleasance
But he had nothing to give
She loved him deeply
It was love at first sight;
Mum reminded her gently
This love wasn't right
He was never there
And it hurt to the core
Soon he didn't love her
And didn't care anymore
When she found his secret
She was in pain
His lies were so frequent
She'd become insane
She started to cry
And let out her fears
No-one wondered why
He drowned in her tears
May 28, 2018
May 28, 2018 at 2:36 PM UTC
Child of the pure unclouded brow
And dreaming eyes of wonder!
Though time be fleet, and I and thou
Are half a life asunder,
Thy loving smile will surely hail
The love-gift of a fairy-tale.
I have not seen thy sunny face,
Nor heard thy silver laughter:
No thought of me shall find a place
In thy young life’s hereafter--
Enough that now thou wilt not fail
To listen to my fairy-tale.
A tale begun in other days,
When summer suns were glowing--
A simple chime, that served in time
The rhythm of our rowing--
Whose echoes live in memory yet,
Though envious years would say “forget”.
Come, hearken then, ere voice of dread,
With bitter tidings laden,
Shall summon to unwelcome bed
A melancholy maiden!
We are but older children, dear,
Who fret to find our bedtime near.
Without, the frost, the blinding snow,
The storm-wind’s moody madness--
Within, the firelight’s ruddy glow,
And childhood’s nest of gladness.
The magic words shall hold thee fast:
Thou shalt not heed the raving blast.
And, though the shadow of a sigh
May tremble through the story,
For “happy summer days” gone by,
And vanish’d summer glory--
It shall not touch with breath of bale,
The pleasance of our fairy-tale.
May 28, 2014
May 28, 2014 at 10:19 AM UTC
upon becoming a nestling sans nest,
i decided to make a half-baked plan of mandates,
stating how i ought to quest, trough to crest.
egesting the presently unpleasant facets,
i adopted a policy of empirical puerilism.
now a newly groovy pluvi-dendrophile philomath,
a counterbalanced feng shui caricature,
promptly finding rapture bereft of culture.
plundering the dysfunctional,
worshiping the digressive.
anything is adjustable,
everything can be lovable.
finding bravery in regret,
forever simply vincible.
basking in the ebullience,
bringing passion with my presence.
learning to rhapsodize my sentience,
projecting admittedly confusing ontologisms,
concerned with not much else than pleasance.
my means of conception have become my heaven,
and with no evidence of the clandestine,
i simply stepped in.
Jul 6, 2019
Jul 6, 2019 at 4:42 AM UTC
I don't want you, I say
as I stare longingly at my screen for
a message to appear with a certain name
that does things to me.
I don't want you, I say
as the tips of my fingers tingle
and my heart becomes a drum,
the soundtrack to your entrance,
to the live wire my body becomes.
I don't want you, I say
as I surpress a cry
when your watchable lips mutter a bye
and I feel empty without a presence
of something I can't get myself to say,
is a pleasance
I don't want you, no, not at all
Not only because I can't admit it
(Too proud and afraid to say another person makes me whole
That I become needy without control)
But because that it's not true
I don't want you -
I need you, and
Owning you is all I think
I'm able to do
May 1, 2016
May 1, 2016 at 8:39 AM UTC
Sometimes we need a place to be alone with God
When you feel walked over like a sad piece of sod
We need to find a secret place, the soul's retreat
Where the love between heaven and earth shall meet
I can disappear inside the shadow of his wings
And know the peace that true closeness brings
I can fly away and leave this world and its cares behind
It is in these times that the Lord will gently remind
Us He is our strength and our strong tower
And in his radiant glory, the darkness will cower
I will wash in the stream of eternal life
By grace, I will be made like new
I will bask in healing warmth of the light
Of love that can only come from You
I will join the angels in their unending son
And dance with every ounce of my being
I will sit at your feet the whole day long
I can scarce take in the splendor I'm seeing
I will spend an hour in your presence
But a second is an hour, an hour is a day
My soul finds a pure profound pleasance
And, once again, I know that I will be okay
Dec 10, 2024
Dec 10, 2024 at 10:08 PM UTC