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A good man is soon out of company.

The woman he lives with
believes he is a fool
and having seen no sign of his cure
she feels insecure.

He is weak and so acts good,
she rues in bitter mood.

Goodness buys him no good place anywhere.

People interpret his grace his kindness
as his meekness.

He leaves his seat for others
but is never offered a seat
with sellers he is nice
but parts paying the worst price
being never vocal with claim
favors seldom find his name.

Yet in goodness only
his heart loves to dwell
and on the humble bed
he sleeps well.
 Feb 2020
Lily
I was bleak
Dying upon the floor
I wished I had sought
The lost
The rare and radiant, the angels

Here
In the recent wake of Kobe Bryant's death, we should all be reminded that we shouldn't take people for granted.  Say what you feel while you still have the chance; you never know when those people will not be with you anymore.
 Feb 2020
Eloisa
We silently communicate
in the middle of chaos
Understanding one another
With true love between our souls
As we embrace each other in the solitude
 Feb 2020
Sally A Bayan
.......a parade of thoughts,
crowd its tip......sad...sweet,
scary...unpleasant...pleasant,
hopeful...or prohibited,thoughts
come.....one after the other,
like white circled smokes from a spectre,
smoking....hiding, behind the curtain,
triggered by a song, a verse, or somethin'
else.....like a photo, a voice...a memory...

when they come to haunt...and taunt
..... i just bow my head,
and let my  pen stand *****
or lean inside my palm,
allow it to make curves, loops and  
lines, to cross out untimely thoughts
on white blank pages...
pen struggles with me--whether or not, to share
my likes, dislikes, my disgust, fears, my despair...
my endless questions are frozen...wintered
within...i wonder, will they remain unuttered?
....the answers, as before, are uncertain...
.........my discontent, oh, so apparent...
::::
.....when i hold my pen...is when my soul
breathes and relaxes...it journeys...i forget all,
....hunger pangs do not enter my mind
..my troubled self....and the peaceful me
....join forces....their combined energy
flow freely, inside my inner streams...
...i sit tall when they bring out the best in me,
...wonder if i could bring back worst moments,
......and correct the wrong in them...but,
who's to say what is right? what is wrong?

when i hold my pen, i realize its might,
its omnipotent power....its written bold words,
exclamations, lines, commas, dots and dashes,
can incite, or douse strong actions and feelings
it softens the sharp edges of anger and pain
it can puncture deeper...better than a sword,
it can heal...soothe wounds and  slashes
.................inflicted by other pens


........when i hold my pen,
i let it speak for me...time and again...


Sally

© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
March 21, 2018
 Jan 2020
Sally A Bayan
Nothing...had enchanted me more,
than that big yellow rose...
bright, stunning at the tip of its tall stem,
soft petals.....yet to fully unfurl,
its inner part...a soothing light shaded swirl...
i sniffed a bit of its fragrance,
and felt its softness...but,
i got pricked by a hidden thorn,
---
just a tiny puncture...yet,
my finger bled so much...
---
i walked on through the garden,
...with my pricked finger inside my mouth,
i was amazed by other flowers, more colorful ones,
but, the yellow, pink, red roses outshone them all...
with care this time, i touched a  big pink,
slowly.........and, again, i didn't see,
another thorn was in the way
---
it was more painful
it bled even more...
---
i stood thinking, while bleeding...
its beauty, its silky feel...its
fragrance that lingers in the mind
would all be difficult to resist,
the pain from the thorns...harder to forget,
but, i'd still want to walk through this vast
garden....live this life...and seek those roses
feel them...be inspired...over and over
---
never mind the spikes!
never mind the pain!
---
love is beautiful like a rose
a rose is beautiful like genuine love,
there are thorns...hindrances and
hurdles, that come with its beauty....yet,
that wonderful feeling of loving,
and being loved, in return,
the wanting, the longing for it,
never dies...the fear of bleeding,
is ignored,
---
for, what is life without love?
and what is love without pain?
---
isn't love lovelier...more hopeful
the next time around?
---
a rose could never be a rose
without its many thorns...
---

Sally

©Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
April 11, 2018
HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY TO ALL MOTHERS!!!
 Jan 2020
Khoisan
Ghostly shadows on your mind
will make your brain go insane

angels cry as demons bluff
Your conscience ain't... satan's cuffs

Live
take your time
dumping demons ain't no crime

Love
just like the sun

high-above

fall on your knees
rise like a dove
Positive
 Jan 2020
Sally A Bayan
* * *
* *
*

Faces of friends, of people i met earlier
are  glittering stars on this late evening's
dark blue sky...their smiles are tattooed
in my mind...they're  hunched, going
lower by the days...slowed down by years.
it must be hard and painful...the arching,
the drooping of the neck, the curving spine,
they endure all, 'til each day's end...they rise
each new dawn...do what they still can do,
lest they stagnate in their aging ponds,
diminish to a state, where food, pills, or
forgotten information are forced on them,
......like drugs, injected into the veins

........................
these wee hours bring back the years...
they  have been good...never mind the
hard times...there were, there are good ones
life is a long, wide stream of changing hues,
flowing on and on....my water bears the
colors each new day brings...gray, at times
with sadness and gloom....other days,
blacked by despair...some summers, red,
roseate with glee, or green with life and
hope...blue, when trust is spilling, and
the tranquil sea and sky overwhelm,
with a promise of stability..........white,
when accepting......the unacceptable...
........................
the amber grains and i, are alike
ripened enough to be plucked
be pulled out from an existence...the
signs are known...shown...yet, i wait
for when it is due to happen...and while
waiting, the stalks sway, play and dance  
and enjoy the sun and wind...and i,
while i still can...walk, jump, climb hills
and valleys in this mammoth space
of land and water.............called life
...................
the sounds of my days, i still hear,
i am a lute, a harp, a cello...playing
off-key.....out of tune at times,
my strings are my graying hair,
i still can't stop dying the gray
i still want to highlight the dark,
but, one day, all these will cease...
............
one night, my face will be in one of those
many stars...glittering on a dark blue sky
sending a smile, to my loved ones.


...................
(there is no other way,
but forward
all are headed
towards an end.)


Sally



© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
      June 26, 2018
...ahhh, the rains...do make us reflect longer on life...
 Jan 2020
Lily
Christmas, Christmas, Christmas
Presents, presents, presents
Is that the definition of Christmas?
Cookies, cookies cookies
Is that the definition of Christmas?
What is the definition of Christmas?
Family, giving, love, and most of all
Christ.  This is what we should think
Of when we think of Christmas.
My 10 year old brother wrote this and wanted me to share it with you guys :)
 Jan 2020
Starving Artist
There's a cloud over my brain.
The haze keeps sadness from causing a storm.
But this fog blocks out my ability to feel happiness and to enjoy the sun.
The overcast makes it so I don't feel anything.
I wish the weatherman would say it'd storm one day so that maybe I could see the sun again.
 Jan 2020
Sally A Bayan
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
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