"vouched" poems
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There is power over what's in front,
what's behind, cannot be vouched for.
any one, anything that accost me, are
all taken at face value....just as they are,
disregarding love, or dislike,
or, what dwells deep within.
when not shrouded, i am most useful
some say i'm cruel
others think, i'm kindest
but, i am just being honest.
with the least of light, i try my best,
i earn praises...they come back, they need me
sometimes i am bathed with hatred
i end up in the attic...or given away,
just because the truth is unacceptable.
the area across is most times regular,
a man on his table...what hungs on his wall.
occasionally, it becomes spectacular,
countenances, joyful, or sorrowful
come to and fro...all sorts of accolades
a mix of emotions...each day, an array
of lively colors and moods......a parade
of varied appearances feed my view
it's not what i want...it's what i am given
any time of any day...any season.
whatever the reason
someone or something
stands to face me.
when night is late, and in complete silence
that man by the table....ever writes on paper
and gets them all wet...with his falling tears,
he writes of volcanoes spewing fire, of rain pouring,
speaks to himself, then to me, of betrayal, promises
lost, of broken vows, and shattered expectations.
i am speechless, yet filled with his pain ....he is restive
til the wee hours of the morning....then i see light in
this visage, his face...giving an end to the dark
giving way to another day's noise,
......a facade.....
Sally
Copyright Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
October 11, 2018
Oct 11, 2018
Oct 11, 2018 at 4:36 PM UTC
*"So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee."*
Shall I compare thee...
...to the Iguazú Falls River, where legend serves that a serpent; Boi, demanded a sacrifice each year of a young female, and the day two lovers; Tarobá and his beautiful maid Naipí, took to escape, and in revenge of such an act, Boi exuded such anger that he parted the river, thus forming the Iguazú Falls, splitting the river and condemning to two lovers to the falls.
or
...to Cristo Redentor; Christ the Redeemer, the Art Deco statue, protecting and looking over the city of Rio de Janeiro, to whom in all its glory cannot escape the force of nature, struck by lightning, causing damage irreplaceable.
or
…to The Hanging Gardens of Babylon, hundreds of metres into the sky, a place that to this day is unknown, myth being that King Nebuchadnezzar recreated the homeland of his precious wife Amyitis, who was deeply depressed and homesick, allowing her to find comfort and happiness.
or
…the Taj Mahal, of Pradesh, constructed using marble by the emperor Shah Jahan, in loving memory of his third wife; Mumtaz Mahal, the jewel of Muslim art, a calligraphy written Great Gate reading; "O Soul, thou art at rest. Return to the Lord at peace with Him, and He at peace with you.
or
…the Temple of Artemis; Istambul, on sacred land in honour of the Greek goddess Artemis, the most apotheosized of Greek deities, the supposed daughter of Zeus and Leto, the temple also known as Diana, one of the goddesses who vouched never to marry; alongside Minerva and Vesta.
or
… the Mausoleum at Halicarnassus, of the Persian Empire, whereby Mausolus ornamented four sculptures created in relief for his wife (and also his sister); Artemisia II of Caria, generating an above ground tomb that would become to be listed as one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World.
But of all,
I compare thee to the Goddess of Love, Beauty and Sexuality; Aphrodite
arising from the sea, floating ashore on a shell;
Venus rising from the sea,
a lover of many,
later depicted as a painting of the Birth of Venus,
by the sufferer of unrequited love; Botticelli,
using his muse Simonetta Vespucci as a model.
© Sia Jane
Jan 19, 2014
Jan 19, 2014 at 2:42 PM UTC
**All Hours of the Night
you get it by now...
I'm no ordinary dude
I'm the Guardian
I vouched for you
and if I don't make you accountable for this mess;
you were quick to stick the puppies face in it
because she's gotta learn right "you know how ******* get"
a moment of weakness you've called it
crawling back now on the same bended knee
you take to to pray about it...
on the same bended knee you take to to take him
and you kiss your kids with that mouth
how irresponsible it would be of me
to not post your offenses
tough love
or tough talk
which one are you
I'ma go with my gut
because you said to... I'm paraphrasing
"always take a ***** at her word"
we set better examples here
so I'ma put your nose in the wet spot
and as for your performance;
I gotta give it up
kudos
standing o
but I can't wait around for the encore
and I can't wait to write your review
and now when it's aching
and everything smells like me
clenching won't do;
fistfuls of your bed spreads
feel like your back is breaking
but no more O's for you
miss it
All Hours of the Night
you're supposed to
do you miss him like that too
oscar - nominee
my crown is your crown now
that's how we felt we were supposed to get down
for the rest of
however long the rest of
turns out to be
there's never been a language ever spoken
or scripture ever inked on how we move
because it's a given here
where we quietly defend the dynasty
inside these gates
outside ourselves
and between me and the walls
haven't you been nervous for no good reason
haven't you missed the butterflies
because you still can't wait to see me
we came in undersized
but your crown was my crown now
because you know good and well
that's my breath
when a breeze leaves just a tease of warm air
under there
and because you love butterflies
wasn't *** better than ***
fascinating **** huh… me
like you didn't know before now
and now that yearn
can't be made well by any earthborn figure
outside these gates
or inside you
and only between me and the walls
there's been no language assigned
we still can't pronounce it
but it's called love no matter your accent
or if you speak in tongue
fight it
All Hours of the Night
it's tiring
and you're weak
I give it a week
before you come crawling back
on the same bended knee
you take to pray about it
and to take him
you kiss your kids with that mouth
I am no ordinary dude
I'm the Guardian
I vouched for you
codefendants
love is war
I thought you understood our plight
I have to make you accountable for this mess;
you gotta learn "you know how ******* get."
how irresponsible it would be of me
to not post your offenses
tough love
or tough talk
which one are you
it's okay to miss me
you're supposed to
do you miss him like that too...**
May 14, 2014
May 14, 2014 at 5:47 PM UTC
Spring dawned after the biting chill,
Beams of sunlight filtered down,
Flakes of snow melted away,
The Earth bathed in brilliant glow
He came,
The dainty Darling of our dreams!
With promises full and hopes in store,
To fill the void,
within our souls.
To burst the silence,
with the clatter of sounds
To dispel the gloom,
that hovered on
He came,
High from Heaven,
like a cherubim sent,
with the glow of umpteen candles lit,
He came,
To gladden our doleful hearts,
To deliver us of our blighted state
He came,
Like the first rain on parched ground,
To drench the arid lands in profuse shower,
To ease the ***** of sweltering heat,
To put out the fire of growing drought
Marveling over the seizure of treasure,
long hidden within the crevices dark,
We stood, so pleasantly taken aback,
over the gift, ere vouched, but long delayed.
Like an eagle in its aerial route,
flew my spirits in ecstatic rounds
Like the Swallow, soaring high above,
my fancy took wings and set to fly.
He lay close to me, the bundle of joy!
His dark little eyes poised on my face,
full with words on silent lips,
and innocence on his glistening visage
I peered into that cute little face,
the face I had long fondled in my dreams,
I whirled in the feel of prime feed,
and swam in the current of maternal bliss!
Nov 18, 2016
Nov 18, 2016 at 6:47 AM UTC
Let the self seeding crocus mia beguile,
burying our heads in Sunday papers
taking the coloured supplements
to heart,
whilst in the shade forgetting others suffering,
again we turn inwards,
dreaming of strawberries and clotted cream
and strolling to the local ligne roset,
these middle class values
ostensibly vouched by the world
yet no longer made in our image.
Oct 31, 2013
Oct 31, 2013 at 6:51 PM UTC
The Curtain of Time
Suspended between earth and heaven this thick dark smokiness has the beginning of time at one end and the other for now is in flux
A song of this same name says he gave me beauty for ashes let’s take a look at the ashes from earths side everything is disintegrating
All material matter is in a metamorphic state of decay new today gone tomorrow even people wear out always in the mind a true crux
Forever their beginning is rehearsed and their end never has an ending discussion we fret about what is missed by each side the loss
Look at what they missed in this year alone independence day the remembering the celebration the retelling of former glory
Peer through the curtain in front men of giant stature the founders are speaking of their exploits our loved ones give rapt attention
The father of our country gives a simple discourse of those crowning achievements there isn’t a dry eye after the telling story
This side books old and worn tell us what happened there it is breathed vouched by those it happened to the thrill reverberates
Earths snail pace lost just insignificant fractions compared to the speed of light travel beyond the curtain by thought you are there
The smoky curtain side families constrict the currents ever wider race and fills ancestral logs overwhelmed you set among your own
People that it would be hard to trace and show relation come up and give you hugs their peaceful nature leaves you a joyful air
Playing among angels and no worries will do that to you make you carefree seasoned by trailing what ifs then they turn to what is
The smoky side is brighter when facts are figured the sum of man is not told and then ended by the sod and marble stone
You touch the world with limited understanding you go to the place rich discoveries fold out of one another continuously
Amazement the norm you once plodded now you are the measureless wind free held only to heavens keel the stars out shone
In the kinetic flow all you need to know is enter designs that glory alone defines these unending lines eternal the curtain no more
Jan 1, 2012
Jan 1, 2012 at 8:39 PM UTC
*it's a dead, obviously, working from per se, i only used prae to be near per, i could have used foris, or even ante, but given the dictionary and the necrosis of the Latin tongue per se as in: per - by rather than in - and se - himself rather than itself, you can imagine the complications of coining a phrase for the antidote of in-itself, i.e. outside-itself.*
revision of Enya: **** away **** away,
against the wind against the wind;
mash up... brrrrapt big up big up east end
Loud Don... bonkers bunch...
now that is random,
i wanted to make a serious point,
and i will (insert snigger)... eventually.
what i wanted to communicate was the revenge of
von Kleist against Kant...
Kant is the enemy of poetry we're led to believe,
i can imagine, only Heidegger took Holderlin seriously
and lectured on his poetry,
von Kleist committed suicide out of despair
having read Kant's critique...
but what i want to do:
to take each poetic technique out of poetry, and
then use each technique to describe it's origin...
so for example metaphor... given that poetry is
ensō (one smooth stroke) - ever watched the t.v.
series Wolf Hall? it's about the dealings of Thomas
Cromwell, all matters of intrigue, Henry the VIII,
and Anne Boleyn... so the metaphor describing
poetry... at the end of Wolf Hall
Anne Boleyn is about to be decapitated, because
she ****** like Catherine the Great (although i'm
sure the myth about the horse by polish / lithuanian
conspirators isn't true... or applicable to Anne)
and that offended the king...
so on the scaffold, there's the swordsman (using a sword
was a clean affair, axes were brutal, imagine hacking
at stump of wood, or like Longinus Podbipięta,
who with a Teutonic sword cut three Turk
heads in one go, so Longinus Podbipięta vouched
to a lady his chastity that he'd bed her if he also
cut three Ottoman heads in one go ref. Sienkiewicz
with fire and sword - the sword
that cut ****** Mary's head was, blunt)...
so there's this scene in Wolf Hall, ah man, the swordsman
is classy, Thomas Cromwell asks him, 'will it be a clean
death?', 'only if she doesn't move',
so on the scaffold, he takes his shoes off, speaks into her right
ear as if she's expecting the swing to come from there
and then with great stealth moves in the other
direction and cuts her head off from the left...
so i guess poetry is a metaphor of that, an ensō,
an evolution from haiku: one smooth stroke and you're done:
nothing airy fairy, like you need to sigh...
no... you need to drop the anchor:
poetry prae se, as described by metaphor.
May 8, 2016
May 8, 2016 at 9:24 AM UTC
I was young and naughty,
Like all other kids I was.
Of the school Matador,
The minibus,
I was a commuter.
Nirmal Public School,
Was all but a
Normal Public School.
For it was a strung off
From the highway
And was my first school.
In the Matador,
The last window was
Ajar.
It was already dangling,
My friend joked,
"You can't break it."
His comment,
Me it motivated,
I sought to prove I can.
I pushed it intentionally,
And the last nuts,
They became undone.
The window went thrashing down,
And the driver-conductor duo,
Me they punished.
It was overcast that afternoon,
And they made me crouch akin to a ****
It started raining down.
Then the math teacher came,
And she vouched for my innocence,
"It was already dangling."
The bus crew,
They argued,
"But it was still there."
I was young,
Just 7 years,
And cute too.
The bus crew,
They softened up,
And let me go.
Ma'am, do you now remember me?
You travelled by the same bus,
For you lived in the same campus.
The National Dairy Research Institute,
Its residential campus we both called home,
I miss those days when I was young.
Sep 22, 2024
Sep 22, 2024 at 8:54 PM UTC
We said our love things
Under light of the moon,
New faces sparked, shimmered, tied
In the blinks of heavens, O true eyes,
Among a grand Milky Way of stars
An so hot were the froths of cold air,
Steaming in swirls of daze
Round our faces into blaze.
We said our love things
With swim of hands locked,
Rowing out to sea like little wan skiffs,
Dreamy and drunk in the ocean shifts
And muffled hearts broke skin drums,
Fell the waves rushing into dark some,
O how lovely and dire the airs
How ocean sighed with us fair,
Yet, loss grew unmeasured,
By love things so treasured,
Our little boat was cast out, away too far,
We lost dear knowledge, the guiding stars,
Confounding joys split the night so clear,
Meek, spindrift promises, offered up wares,
Vouched keen love things
Under fates, flighty moon.
Mar 9, 2016
Mar 9, 2016 at 2:38 AM UTC
They all said they had seen none
The owner vouched he had it on bed
But in the morning the mobile phone was gone
Who could steal it troubled the four heads.
The four mates in the house had their alibis
They slept sound after late night chore
One can’t expect them to be up by sunrise
The question is who opened the door.
Only one boy said he was out for a walk
But he locked from outside before exit
He affirmed he found untampered the lock
Everything was as it was when he left it.
Another boy’s story gave a vague impression
Earl morn he sensed someone was there
But before soon he vanished in thin air
He wasn’t sure if it was an apparition.
The remaining one he needed no alibi at all
They knew he would sleep without cessation
In his state of slumber would be nothing to recall
One could safely keep him out of suspicion.
The last one left was the owner of the phone
Of course he wouldn’t steal from himself
But fact was in his room he lay alone
Could remove it without any help!
He didn't appear much let down by the theft
Said somebody might have sneaked in
After the first boy for a walk had left
The apparition the other had seen.
To this day the case has not been solved
Among the suspects can count all the three
Each one had alibi but none could be absolved
The missing mobile remained a mystery.
The three still talk about the fourth guy
The owner of the missing mobile
For that same afternoon he went to buy
A new phone to close the case file.
Dec 10, 2013
Dec 10, 2013 at 10:04 AM UTC
I was fired from [sandwich shop X] for
"insubordination" and "attitude".
******* cowards, the whole lot.
What hurts the most is that I tried,
because someone vouched for me,
but they still stepped all over me
and then threw me away.
**** jobs.
Checked my horoscope for *****
"If it's true that you reap what you sow, Libra, you're in for a great harvest in the coming months. Your hard work and focus will start to pay off handsomely with promotions and raises just when you may have given up on being acknowledged for all you do. Hang on to your great energy, passion, and enthusiasm. Doors are about to open for you. Get ready to walk through them."
Found a stone in the graveyard with my name
and told it how much I wanted to **** myself
and how much I hate everything.
From here, hell looks reasonable;
like at least there'd be a reason for everyone
to be so ******* useless and miserable,
but heaven?
Heaven looks like a ******* insult.
But what the **** do you know?
I got no job, no home, a mother in a women's shelter,
failed applications for food stamps, college debt,
no old friends, what?
What the **** have I got?
Why the **** does everyone treat suicide
like it's so ******* morally reprehensible?
I never win.
NEVER.
Even my victories are
offshoot chances to lose more
than I had before.
I'm tired, and I hate all of you.
Sep 24, 2014
Sep 24, 2014 at 1:30 PM UTC
Rhythmically reducing time
for you
for I.
Coagulation increasingly lessens the beat.
Off-written and wrecked,
We can’t turn home as
Junkies and
Dealers.
This home,
Washed out in familial gossip of relapse and resurge
After our firefights
Against venomous appetites.
Yet here we light this pipe, you and I,
With a reprise of shell-shocked war stories
Reanimating the grind
Of addiction’s battle.
Promise by the world,
A mind’s conviction and a 12-step program
Would naturally manifest in abstinent purity
And after,
Serenity.
Through the itch
Still
We are lumbering on, yet raging.
Violently insisting that these dreams are vouched for and
Stances held
Should leave our slicked soles immobile.
Smooth winds crinkling past twigs
And I with you, my dealer,
Am a lubricated branch on smooth-weathered granite grade.
In descent I tear at the throat with embarrassed tears.
Cries that only slicken the stone.
So of it, I swallow what will fill,
And beg you to do the same.
As fingernails rip from flesh
In grip of a still frame I can hear the 12-step program bid out again.
“Let there be sweat till the clouds run red.
Let trailing beads glisten while
I the blossom
Begin budding in the fall.”
Jan 23, 2017
Jan 23, 2017 at 12:00 AM UTC
Do you ever stop to think,
To think about the things you have done,
Do you ever stop to remember,
To remember my face, my eyes, my teeth, and my laughter,
Do you ever stop to realize,
To realize that whenever you look at her that way a thorn is planted into my heart,
Do you ever stop to care,
To care about the person who you once vouched for,
Do you ever just stop and remember how it all used to be,
Do you?
Mar 3, 2014
Mar 3, 2014 at 11:35 PM UTC
Behind me, I hear
The receding roar of years
It sends chills down my spine
Beads of sweat pop up on my brow
What did I do all these years?
Did I sleep through half my life?
Hibernating in my burrow
Did I keep the promises vouched?
Live up to the resolutions made?
Could I light a fire in gloom?
Did I wipe a tear?
Could I bring a smile to anyone dear?
For me, no more sprinting steps
Feeling awkward and unsure
With a fast withering torso
I look on to the track ahead
As the race winds down
And the final turn in sight
Once my life has been a round of cheer
But no more can I cling onto those days so dear
‘Much have I seen and known’
Yet how little!
To what all places I have been!
How much joy and pain shared!
How many dreams I dreamt!
Now in this paling light, I stay
Brooding over joys missed
Conjuring unfulfilled longings
Coiling back all the way to the start
I am an autumn leaf
Now turned red,
And about to shed
As the world goes wheeling through
Somehow I am pushing ahead
Waiting for that tightening grip
Of an unknown caller’s powerful fist!
How am I going to respond to it?
With regret or delight
I am not sure
Do the journey that lies ahead
Take me to a sunlit abode
Oh, don’t ask me
I am not quite sure!
May 19, 2021
May 19, 2021 at 11:57 AM UTC
The love is lost when demanded
The respect is lost when commanded
The time is lost if waited for
The life is expended if searched for
The wisdom is lost if proclaimed
The peace is killed when acclaimed
The happiness is lost when not valued
The good karma is lost if vouched for
Sep 22, 2017
Sep 22, 2017 at 5:46 AM UTC
High school
I was new to this love thing
Crushes were a usual thing
I never really acted on it
I was never one for relationships
Things change though
I remember when our conversations started
Not too long after, it felt like something was missing when I hadn’t heard from you
You were one to stay after school
I was one to go home
I never believed in extra mural activities but then I fell in love with someone who did
For some reason, her cellphone battery span was only enough for the school day but nothing after that
I got used to it
It became routine to get home from school knowing it would still be a few hours till I heard from you
Oh man
When you finally got home, you’d have to juggle between giving me attention, taking a shower and doing schoolwork
Our phone calls would be brief
My broke *** never had airtime like that
Those short calls were almost predicting the future of our relationship. Short but somehow, meaningful.
You were the first person to introduce me to red flags
You were my first real relationship
I’d like to believe I loved you
I guess I dived in a little too quickly, too soon
You did everything right
I had no standards
No expectations
I was along for the ride - no matter how short it turned out to be
I didn’t even know myself back then
Almost 10 years later and I still have memories of how dishonesty was a comfortable place for you
I made excuses for you
The worst part was that I made excuses to myself, for you
I betrayed myself
On multiple occasions
I vouched for you
To myself
I held you at a higher esteem than I held myself
I remember this all too well
We were in different schools
You were one of the popular girls
I was the one with the jokes
We were never meant to be
Somehow, you caught my attention
You spoke words that eased my uncertainty
I believe you loved me at some point
I just wasn’t what you were looking for
I was in the slow lane and you were in the fast lane
No matter how many gears I switched, you were always way ahead of me
You broke my heart when dishonesty became normal
You broke my heart when lies were just a part of your conversations
You broke my heart when I had no business giving it to you
It’s ironic
I had no business loving you but I never made that any of your business
Instead, I gave you the best of me and you gave me enough to keep me at bay
Moments later, you flipped your switch to a red light and I stopped. Time taught you that you had lost a gem while getting rocked to sleep at night.
When your light turned to green i was already in a different lane
It doesn’t take me long to get over you
It takes me a while to get over what you did to me
I wish we did better
I wish we never met in the capacity of a relationship
Sincerely, a now broken church kid.
Jul 30, 2020
Jul 30, 2020 at 7:42 PM UTC