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I'm coming from afar
I tell the woman
the last time I came
I could walk straight to the river
now monsoon mud has made a mess
can only glimpse the river's face
is there still a way on dry feet?

She raises her eyes
no way she says
it's all shrub and slush
but you can have a look at my garden
pomelo and papaya,
gourd and green banana,

I haggle over price
wouldn't settle for less than a bargain

she smiles all the way
succumbs with ease
for the take a bag too she gives.

As I leave her on the falling day
I feel no loss
not finding the river's way.
 Nov 2015
Sjr1000
I've returned from the cyclone
Not quite intact
These images are haunting me
Every time I close my eyes.

No patience for people
Their ways take me under
I erupt in fury far too often.

My arms are a Jackson Pollack
My face in the mirror a Salvador Dali
I'm trying the best I can.

The doctors throw cocktails of drugs
my way,
I don't remember who I am
or care to even try
Your either against me or on my side.

I've been hurt too many times
My eyes are likely to swim to the side
I'm dizzy
I'm dumped

My days are too long
My nights are too strong

You think you've got it rough
A little empathy, please
Think of what it's like
to be me.
Not autobiographical, dedicated to all those who suffer from past trauma and Post Traumatic Stress, healing is possible.
 Nov 2015
mark john junor
silence slowly settles around me like a warm blanket
buckets of sunlight spill thru the torn clouds
my september mind wanders its backwoods dream
masters each slow footfall imprinted on the soft textured ground
my path clearly carved into my minds fading yesterday thoughts
never quiet except in the soft kiss of warm humid breeze

we stood there
in the darkness
holding hands
your fingers moved ever so gently in my stiff grip
you knew the track and taste of my world
your words echo there without the
image reminding me of childhoods sails of a stormy sea

now you look into my eyes
without a word
you see me
 Oct 2015
Sally A Bayan
There is not much luxury  
within the four walls of my territory
but, this is where steel arrows,
and sharp shiny daggers invisibly fly
i feel the winds blow...strong and gentle
though the drapes and blinds do not move at all
there's a lot to hear outside  
-------far and deep...into the night-------

from a not so distant place
i hear the cries of a newborn baby,
waiting...maybe, to be breastfed by her mother,
or be coaxed by the ****** of the feeding bottle...

there goes those softened footfalls on the street,
or maybe, just outside the house, could be next door;
a swish of air usually signals the onset
of the suicidal activities of the bats;
the eager voices of a family with their television on
waiting for the father to arrive from work,
brings a smile...

there's a mother, her daughter and son
discussing family issues over late dinner...
i hear the crying and lamentations of a widowed wife,
of a sick mother who was abandoned by her family,
i fight the urge to go out in the dark
upon hearing the soft whimpering.of a sick dog,
the muffled sobs of a lady neighbor, brokenhearted,
****** my heart without end
i would've sobbed with her...comforted her...
the silent weeping of an orphaned child
is hard to fathom...hard to ignore
........i even hear my own unspoken woes,
their wailings and mine, side by side
all heard...by the spirits of the night...

sounds seem the loudest
during these late, late hours, when
the rest are asleep, and quietude reigns
curiosity is so stirred, for
i don't...i can't see the source
of these nightly sounds

in the dark silence of the night
i hear...
...and
i write...


Sally



Copyright May 25, 2015---4:51 PM
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan



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 Oct 2015
Natalia mushara
Have no time fo nonsense
I don playe wit fooles
Im queene, not yo thing
Not sum chika yuo kan rule.
 Oct 2015
Traveler
Life can be
Such a mess
So get out there
And do your best

You fell down
Well, get back up
I never meant
To be so rough

The world is fast
And it ain't fair
Love is hard
And it's cold out there

Life can be such a mess
It's up to you
To do your best...
 Oct 2015
g clair
o'er the air from bachelor pad
without a doubt, some magic passed
reminding me of all I've had
the sweet familiar spell was cast

never to be and never it was
though I allowed that thing to form
a snug cocoon of fizzy fuzz
and I within, kept safe and warm

from that which dwells at closer range
the butterflies, the nervous twitch
the scary stuff, the dreaded mange
the things which make my eyeballs itch.

the older men are lonely now
you look at me with eyes renewed
you had your day, yet when somehow
you glance my way, I come unglued.

for where were you when I was young
and less afraid and less undone?
and where was I when you were young
and most of all far less undone?

for those divorced, I'll say again
are hitched to freedom, n'er to stray
those my age, the married men
and never marrieds, keep away!

so here am I, he was so good
the only one my eyes could see
the only one who understood
and not an itch but pleasantry.

i guess he heard too much one day
and knew the thing which held my hope
he'd heard my heart and ran away
no diamond ring  nor to elope

and so, the ugly facts remain
I know them well, it makes me sad
not into me, his loss, my gain
and all my life, that's all I've had.
 Oct 2015
Chalsey Wilder
What's the hold up?
Why are we on pause?
I'd suggest you start warming up
If you want an early surprise from Mrs. Clause
I have red ruby lips for you to kiss on
I want you to kiss me till I'm fully breathless
I really want a large ******* to sit upon
**** me till my screaming is all helpless
First, **** me like you love me,
Then **** me like you hate me
Eat my ***** like a savage, it's all warm and tasty
Baby, if I squeeze too hard, don't quit licking
It'll be all worth it for this cherry picking
I gots bars!!! Jk. But writing this was really fun.
 Oct 2015
Tea
Everything is changing
But it all stays the same
I am broken and I am lonely
There's no one else to blame
The skies above our city are gray
And I don't want to stay
I dream to pack our bags
And grab your hand
Get in a car (a bus)(a train)
So we can see the land
But we can't
We just sit and wait
For a better day
For a better year
For more heart
And no fear
For our mothers to stop
Making our choices for us
Pushing their cowardice
and judgments
But I promise
One day that will change
One day we'll climb the mountaintop
And feel the grass beneath our feet
No one to tell us to stop
Or that we're in too deep
One day we'll fly above the clouds
And dream with our eyes open
Speak of those dreams aloud
Know that they will happen
One day we'll run with the waves
And sing with the wind
Because our hearts are the braves
They face life with a grin
This trap that we're in
The world where we live
It's not for us
But you put your arms around me
And everything slows
The clock is ticking
But time has stopped
No matter how much passes
It's not enough
When you're by my side
So I guess I can stay
I can keep fighting
For one more day.
This time it's taking too long, and I fear it's slipping away from me
But I believe in you even when they tell me not to
Maybe I'm wrong and maybe they're right
But my soul doesn't believe that
 Oct 2015
Elisa Maria Argiro
First-born to you,
into a world of light and music,
myriad words, and all their possibilities.

Birth of another kind for you now.

The sphere of light that is your heart
attenuating beyond all fear,
merging into your limitless beginnings.

The secret love you have for the universe
has taught us,
will always teach us.
On September 11th, 2001, Patricia Regan Argiro, my beloved mother- poet, journalist, artist and dancer - was in the final weeks of her life. The first version of this poem was my last Mother's Day present to her. Now she lives in the Light.
©Elisa Maria Argiro
 Sep 2015
Traveler
In staggered stages voices pass
So many faces I have known
Into the abyss memories wane
Falling through the flashbacks
Of our souls...
 Sep 2015
niamh
Breathe it in.
The smell of change
Is in the air.
Seasons and lives,
Deaths and births.
A kaleidoscope of colours rich
Upon the ground.
Branches stripped
Of youth.
Old withered arms
Seeking answers from the heavens.
Smoke pouring from chimneys
Where families gather
While the child
From a broken home
Watches from a distance,
Wrapped in scarves
And sadness.
The changing seasons
Making a mockery
Of that which
Stays the same.
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