"reappears" poems
same setting from a year ago...
i am not sure why, but
before the clock strikes twelve midnight,
my eyes would surely open
no matter what.
coffee in bed right now,
with a few cookies to munch....
my bifocals, where are they?
i need them now...i could vaguely see
something crawls on the carpet,
making rounds, circling my bed...
oh, no, it is hopping towards my comforter...
I stretch a leg beneath the pillows
something moves very near my toes.
i withdraw my leg, alarmed,
as it quickly disappears...
...then reappears! now stationary...
this is starting to annoy me...
I poke it with a pencil,
fear no longer present,
now, with my bifocals found.
but it hops.....and hops...
and hops into hiding
down.....down.....below,
somewhere inside my comforter.
In lieu of me, it is now the comforted.
it is taking too long to come out.
.....something i realized just now.....
could it be possible, could it remember...
i was kind enough not to use a swatter before....
why, i feel like i am being welcomed!
we are playing hide-and-seek,
a welcome dance it is!
here and now, just like before
from last autumn,
we are finally reunited,
my cricket friend and i....
S a l l y
Copyright 2013
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Nov 1, 2013
Nov 1, 2013 at 1:03 AM UTC
The moon illuminates the tears she sheds as the darkness shields her from this reality.
She opened the portal to her fantasy world and the memories she once hid, finally reappears.
His ability to make her chocolate frame quiver into the palm of his hand just by whispering those 3 words.
The way his alluring eyes would caress and soothe her soul to force her to disclose its hidden secrets.
"Do you mean it?" She quietly whispered into his ears as their essence finally merged into existence.
He was able to tear down her layers of pain, confusion, and hurt as he crossed the threshold into her mind.
As she gazes into his ravishing eyes, she becomes paralyzed as they undress her bare petite physique.
The gateway to her hidden domain steadily closes as the warmth rays rest upon her dried tears.
Her tear stricken face clenches onto the dwindling memories of his dominance over her.
If only he kept to his word, then he would have understood her tears of affection.
Apr 1, 2012
Apr 1, 2012 at 9:23 PM UTC
Breath of life, it is a wild ocean
always a tide coming and going
in this place, it does not linger long
never holding on, only drifts quietly into night
into stars, into fleeting sparks of fire flies
or in the night waters, a ghostly glow
of phosphorescence, a transient trail
of luminescence that soon
fades and reappears to light
the deepest depths
of sea
Jun 2, 2014
Jun 2, 2014 at 11:52 AM UTC
I've lost the key that opens the door to my heart,
It's like a painter painting without a brush to an incomplete piece of art.
Like a bird singing a song that cannot be heard
Like a poet writing poetry without a single word
It is the complexity that creates the confusion
Its Missing the flame that lights the spark to create a fusion.
The thief is known to come in the night time
But his not a thief but someone I used to call mine
I guess you could say he stole a piece of me
But he didn't I made the key and handed my heart for free
We danced to a song that only our souls could hear
Then he became out of rhythm and made me shed a tear
Since I knew his song had found a knew singer
So when he left I hoped he will return making me the jackpot winner
But he comes and then he go's
And now I feel his warm breeze that keeps me froze
So I light the candle in the darkness he created
I search through all the men I have previously dated
But there is no one I find but him
That can create fire inside when the match is dim
When he reappears he takes my heart to dance
We take two steps forward and I give him another chance
Then two step backwards while I'm
Lost in his dark eyes
And in them I see the missing key to my jackpot prize
Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 9:17 PM UTC
Why do poets and photographers love fleeting things?
Angled shafts of sunlight piercing a mass
of clouds. A rainbow flashing from dragonfly wings.
Water drops beading like shards of glass.
The fluttering shape of a sycamore’s shade.
The sun sinking into its reflection
In a purple bay. Smoke’s shadow. The rayed
Curve of a finger reaching for perfection.
Whatever churns, bursts, rocks, flies,
Foams, flickers, roils, evades
In pigments of impermanent dyes
We try to fix before it fades
Once I mourned the endless dying
Of here and now, the present always past
Elegized each moment, sighing
Beauty is loss and can never last.
But now I think I had it wrong. In fact
(I learned this from an artist’s eye)
Fleeting beauty reappears faster than we react,
At the speed of a daydream flashing by.
All around, light coalesces into form,
Form explodes into light,
And we live lavishly inside this storm
If we can learn to see it right.
Beauty multiplies, tapering, swelling:
Reshaping, reforming, now familiar, now strange.
This gaudy blur in which we’re dwelling
Is the permanence of change.
Jul 26, 2015
Jul 26, 2015 at 8:32 AM UTC
Phoenix
The phoenix flies throughout my life;
Fire wings send it flying so high.
As it rises up into the sky,
It disappears and reappears, back at my side.
From my hands it goes out to search the land;
The ashes of love are the only traces I have.
Once it was here, but now my phoenix has gone;
I know one day it will return and I will be reborn.
Letting go of holding it tight;
I let my phoenix fly off into the night.
In summer it died, burnt to a crisp by the golden sun,
But the phoenix’s life returns with another one.
Immortality is just a fantasy,
But the phoenix flies eternally.
The flames of love burn endlessly.
My phoenix exists inside of me.
(C)2017 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Apr 22, 2018
Apr 22, 2018 at 5:36 PM UTC
Apeneck Sweeney spreads his knees
Letting his arms hang down to laugh,
The zebra stripes along his jaw
Swelling to maculate giraffe.
The circles of the stormy moon
Slide westward toward the River Plate,
Death and the Raven drift above
And Sweeney guards the hornèd gate.
Gloomy Orion and the Dog
Are veiled; and hushed the shrunken seas;
The person in the Spanish cape
Tries to sit on Sweeney’s knees
Slips and pulls the table cloth
Overturns a coffee-cup,
Reorganised upon the floor
She yawns and draws a stocking up;
The silent man in mocha brown
Sprawls at the window-sill and gapes;
The waiter brings in oranges
Bananas figs and hothouse grapes;
The silent vertebrate in brown
Contracts and concentrates, withdraws;
Rachel née Rabinovitch
Tears at the grapes with murderous paws;
She and the lady in the cape
Are suspect, thought to be in league;
Therefore the man with heavy eyes
Declines the gambit, shows fatigue,
Leaves the room and reappears
Outside the window, leaning in,
Branches of wistaria
Circumscribe a golden grin;
The host with someone indistinct
Converses at the door apart,
The nightingales are singing near
The Convent of the Sacred Heart,
And sang within the ****** wood
When Agamemnon cried aloud,
And let their liquid siftings fall
To stain the stiff dishonoured shroud.
3k
Disillusionment encompasses the night.
Your warm breath tickles my ear,
Firm hands caress my skin
leaving no part of my body untouched.
All other distractions, extraneous characters,
everything else is irrelevant.
It is just you, with your smooth dark skin,
comforting embrace,
and those entrancing brown eyes,
and me, with my silky pale skin,
soft curves,
and sad but hopeful eyes.
It is just us and our apprehension in this room,
isolated from reality.
You indulge in my coquettish laugh,
and I take solace in the warmth of your touch.
The contours of my body complement yours
as we both try to savor this feeling of ecstasy.
But the hourglass runs out,
and this moment is fleeting.
The illusion is shattered
when the protagonist reappears,
and I am demoted to understudy.
I am left to replay this scene
in my disillusioned mind
hoping to one day again feel
the softness of your lips
pressed against my bare skin,
but until then, I will replay these events,
ignoring this void in my soul
and embracing the momentary nirvana.
Oct 31, 2010
Oct 31, 2010 at 7:07 PM UTC
It's in the morning, at the rise of the sun, when memories float back to you and the remnants of your smile from last night reappears in the soreness of your cheeks and the tightening of your jaw where beauty manifests itself throughout nature.
From the distant tolling of church bells, tolling away in their perfect habitual melody, to the sounds of lovers silently waking one another and relishing at the sounds of their respected voices.
Its in this moment that the dream and reality mesh with one another. Never truly revealing which is which leaving you in a blissful ignorance peppered with false hopes and beautiful truths.
Its through the fog of your alcohol addled mind that a light appears and guides you to wonders untold, leading to a discovery of discoveries revealing a magic long lost to this universe.
Down the neck of a dark blue bottle lined with platinum flows my intuition and aspiration. Its now that i drink and discover a new reality.
Namaste.
Dec 30, 2013
Dec 30, 2013 at 5:28 AM UTC
A moment cuffs you in the face
like Newton's overstated apple,
and the evening dissolves
into sharp, steady resolve...
You think about the extra drink you should have drunk,
the song you should have sung
and the man whose touch y so missed...
The Muse had disappeared.
**** Muse.
Every time you try to find news you want to *****
not just a little, but expel the very core of emptiness out of you,
and you picked a fine time to stop swearing
because there is a man whose feel you have so **** missed...
The stars continue to twinkle across the Northern Sky,
oblivious to the bouncing of our big Blue Ball,
un-answering dreamful wishes;
though, there are other stars lying closer to your heart,
a fresh start and the barbells below...
And you realize
life is found in the letting go...
And the Muse reappears, smiles an aching, wondrous, Hello.
Aug 16, 2017
Aug 16, 2017 at 7:28 PM UTC
Through the looking glass I peered, hoping,
Hoping to see another world.
Alice, oh Alice, how envy I you,
Dreaming, still dreaming,
But your dreams come true.
No one moved, not a single spoke, silence,
All around the world grew, or shrink it did.
It was you, Alice, you,
You were the one who grew.
Eat of that mushroom you did.
The caterpillar, smoking its pipe, wheezes,
In the garden, the flowers did sing.
You fell down the rabbit’s hole,
Not too long ago,
A new world you discovered.
The Cat, what was it called? Cheshire.
It’s wide grin, plump body.
Here, there, nowhere, it vanishes and reappears,
A cat without a grin, you’ve seen,
Not a grin, without the cat.
The Mad Hatter, the March Hare, seated,
Dormouse still sleeping.
Table long, tea cups and pots,
All set and ready,
Truly a Mad Tea-Party.
The Queen, oh, Her Majesty, Red hearts,
Loyal subjects pay their respects.
Golf, was it? No – croquet, you played.
Flamingos and hedgehogs,
Certainly a difficult game.
Painting the roses red, they were,
Red, red roses. The gardener,
He grew them all wrong: White roses from the trees,
Card soldiers, hard work.
Roused, awakened, your sister came, running,
A dream you thought.
It must have been, maybe,
The mushroom in your pocket, the white rabbit’s glove,
You know where you’ve been.
Jun 18, 2012
Jun 18, 2012 at 10:39 AM UTC
How horrible and happy life is all together
How privileged you are to remember both together
A little bit of patience, barely spanning a meter
To sustain a tiny candle light in the heart of winter
Be still little heart
The summer is almost here
Then the reaping will start
Just as the dew reappears...
Jan 23, 2023
Jan 23, 2023 at 3:31 AM UTC
Aliens
No more birds, no more trees,
no more begging on the knees.
No more sun, no more moon,
it all happened on the sixth of June.
Aliens decide to attack,
they ate people like a Big Mac.
All buildings turn to rubble,
aliens hit the daily double.
No more animals, no more people,
not even a cockroach or a beetle.
Only darkness lingers over,
aliens became Earths new owner.
It only took a hundred years,
the sun suddenly reappears.
One man rose from the darkness,
no more did he have blindness.
Killed all aliens one by one,
lucky for him, he found a machine gun.
Now this man stands alone,
his whereabouts are now unknown.
Took a spaceship and is now missing,
looking for a new planet, to go fishing.
When ever there is injustice on a planet,
evil alien killer, is his talent.
This new movie,
comes out the sixth of June,
the first starting time,
will be at high noon.
Mar 19, 2014
Mar 19, 2014 at 12:51 PM UTC
Here we are again standing on the precipice of war
Paralysed by the past and the greed of our forefathers
While the inside battle has raged since birth
Good enough? I think not.
History only repeats its worst parts
They saw a green orb signalling GO GO GO
Faith in illusion the yellow-blue glow
Look but don’t touch! You’ll break it child!
But, they silly foolish daisies flitter flutter in the breeze
What nature? What love? What future? Roars the uncanny double
As it reappears, so much better now at creating disposable monstrous insects
Death? Very well, I guess we accept. We’re ***** for pain
But why walk into the river with rocks in your coat?
You’ve never been to war they gloat
As the wax drips steadily sealing our fate
And so those monstrous insects march by one by one
Hurrah! hurrah! here we go again old sport!
Jul 8, 2024
Jul 8, 2024 at 1:33 AM UTC
The unstable mind of the infinite girl slowly starts to crumble as he ascends from hell into her forsaken kingdom.
The mirror tells him that his impish looks gives him an undeniable handsome.
She knows that the insanity hidden behind her blood stained eyes is what drives his incurable lust for her.
His insatiable need to be one of two is how he causes hurt.
What is she getting herself into by playing in his hidden eden of ecstasy?
He latches on to the first thing he sees in the vicinity.
The scars of their intimate charade reappears in the moonlight as he devours what's left of her mistaken innocence.
In the attempt to mold her into something like him she seems to have lost her very essence.
She screams into the night hoping that his deaf ears will finally hear the cries of his once infinite girl.
The faint sound of the night breezes past his ears as ponders his next assault on this world.
She'll drift through the seamless passages of time and space to regain what's little left of her impure soul.
His next mission will not fail, he will meet his goal.
She clings onto the memories of their past lives as he holds her meaningless death in the palm of his demon claws.
To create something perfect like him, and rid the world of things like her and all her flaws.
She waited for the sweet nectar that death will bring only to realize that her heaven lays with God's fallen angel.
To be the world's savior, to be the world's angel.
Jan 16, 2013
Jan 16, 2013 at 11:51 PM UTC
*Self-similarity
quietly speaks
in fractal visions..
A special sameness
with difference spices
appears and reappears
in spreading iteration..
If we then
become a pattern of
sacred Sameness
observing out there
the dance of
Sameness and spice
we uncover
for our moment
a most hidden
Sacrament...*
Feb 21, 2014
Feb 21, 2014 at 1:50 PM UTC
Giving my word that this time I will change
Promise kept for once indeed is something strange
Read lips when I say to you "Help me stay strong"
Painting your flaws red will always feel wrong
The way to reach goals is to grow to rely
On each other til the storm passes us by
It's learning to trust without question or concern
In rain until this painful period is adjurned
Waiting for strength to flood limbs
Clear each cloud away that dims
To dance on fingertips so near
Keep looking but it never reappears
Aug 14, 2023
Aug 14, 2023 at 3:19 AM UTC
Shadow coat, buttoned up to the neck,
disappears and reappears under the
sky and lamplight hanging up high, loose,
hurrying around with nothing to do; it does
not notice the suspicion walking around beneath it,
lost but going home, reaching that destination
before limbs give up, fail on the floor, found the next day
twisted in a combination no locksmith
can undo.
Sep 24, 2013
Sep 24, 2013 at 1:39 PM UTC
finally awake after a dreamless sleep
looking to the end of your bed
you see a wrinkled cadavers arm (hand and all)
reaching out to grab you
you can barely move out of fear
every time you call for you dad
your voice is barely a whisper
finally your able to call out "daddy"
he replies "be there in a minute"
the arm is still reaching to grab you
your shaking with fear
scared out of your mind
finally grabbing the strength while it lasts
eyes still locked on the arm
you jump out of the bed and run to the door
opening it you race out
your at the door on the inside of your room again
opening it again you race out
this process is then repeated three more time out of fear
it clicks
your trapped in your room
a wrinkled cadaver arm is trying to get you
your father has not come
after being screamed for over and over again
you blink
your back in bed
you think that its over
that it was just a dream
then the nightmare relives itself
again and again and again
the cadaver arm reappears
over and over again
you relive the terror, frustration, horror, and desperation
your dad still has not arrived to save you
one finally scream leaps from your throat
DADDY!!!!!
you wake up
and hoping against hope
you jump out of bed
race out your door and out the back
you made it
welcome back to reality
overjoyed to be awake you burst into tears
and look for your dad
he isnt there.....
Sep 28, 2012
Sep 28, 2012 at 12:16 AM UTC
~
Beneath this dark…soft, silent sky (awaiting your smile)
Beneath this dark…soft silent sky
where starlight teardrops weep
in moon glow feathered sonnets…
my heart seeks
~
Clinging to every hope,
laced of tiny woven dreams
now filtered through weary eyes
and worried sighs
~
Collecting each moment shared
within my weathered hands…mixed
with essence of posy and
butterfly song
~
Woven together in melodic patterns,
colorful arcs on golden horizons
bidding me a good evening while
riding in on the sweetest of mystic zephyrs…
~
as another tear paints my cheek
in transparent worry
and desperate longing for that day
when your smile reappears
~
For here sits my whispered wishes,
behind tufted clouds of life,
touching me with poetic joy,
allowing me to breathe freely
~
Beneath this dark…soft silent sky
where starlight teardrops weep
in moon glow feathered sonnets…
I shall wait…for your smile
Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 6:37 PM UTC
Take me with you.
I've had too much of here.
And this small shrub's not enough anymore.
It delivered as promised,
But the pain reappears,
And once I've run out I'm just left feeling sore.
Open the doors,
For the walls are too close,
And I must have my space,
And you're standing too near.
It used to be nice,
But now that drum in my head,
Beats only a rhythm of fear and of dread.
I can't get away,
For where would i go?
It's hard to find a place that yourself wouldn't know.
And the drum hits hard.
You don't know; I don't say.
I won't show; you won't stay.
The drum hits hard.
Sep 20, 2011
Sep 20, 2011 at 5:15 AM UTC
Is it true that the Bard spirit Never Dies yes, yes, yes, Lord yes! The Bard cries other people's tears. The Bard wears other people's fears. The Bard gives abundant cheers. The bard masters the Lyre and plays the music of the Spheres. The Bard writes heavenly and perseveres knowing when they die they're soul reappears.
Apr 30, 2016
Apr 30, 2016 at 4:50 AM UTC