Bengal Lancers.
Bengal Tigers.
Bengali in a sombrero?
Bengal Pradip:
Priceless.

LEAVE HATRED OUTSIDE MY DOOR
WHEN YOU COME IN*

this Notice boarded on my door
seems to have done little to impress.

the ones that come in
still read from the hate book.

speak ill of others behind their back
curse those they don't agree with
spew vitriol against all not their own
criticize food habits and dresses
castigate the new generation
find fault with the old
generalize on the basis of race religion
trifle faith belief sentiment
envy for what they don't have
intensely dislike assumed disabilities
even a squint a stammer a mole a limp

more passionate in degrading than appreciating
systems, processes, relations, actions, attitudes.

people won't mend, behind them i think,

they're so ****** disgusting.

Poetry like a raging river
Dividing and reuniting
Around rocks as if
Nothing.

Some sentences make me want
To touch each word, feeling  
The braille soul-matter
Beneath each pixel.

Norwegian sun on rooftopped
Reader; beads of sweat fall on
My touch screen
That I

Wipe off carefully in order
To read
Just one
More.

May the same sun warm the
Core of your poet's soul.
May none of the stars
On your night sky of

Creativity
Ever
Even
Fade.

The deepest feelings
Don’t extend through time:
Chapters of the heart,
Come in little breaths.

(We Must!)
                                    
  
C-reate our own paradise...a cool refuge from the outside

H-ell....an indomitable wall, to fight bitter winds...storms that
    
A-gitate our placid waters...here, we seek God...Angels...to

O-vercome fear and negative energy within...here, we bathe, and                      

S-hine through their light....and rise from our own CHAOS...


                                We must!
                          
                              (a­crostic-10w x 5)
                                

Sally

Copyright June 16, 2015
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

You try to not look
Into their eyes
And get lost in their desperate kisses

Cause all that they are
Is a phantom of
What could've been.

My wife, Karen, looked out onto the patio, "why do they always come to us?", speaking of mama and her kits, newcomers they were, but apparently enjoying the food and shelter of this "safe house". Just some, of the many, that had blessed us over the years  with their magic , showing up unannounced, cats, dogs, raccoons, possum, to name a few. Some stayed, some left.

You see, it is our firm belief, that God's closed fist, with index finger extended and pointing downward, looming over our rooftop, wherever we happened to be, is a "guiding star"for them, and only the animals are capable of seeing it, telling them to "go here, for your safety, shelter, and food".

God has many such fingers, in every city, town, state, province, and country on this earth. Why, I would bet that right now, he has a cat(s) asleep on his lap, their way of saying, "thank you, Lord, for helping all of us."

(Make a visit to your local ASPCA Shelter-Adopt an "Angel!)
copyright May 18-2014 richard riddle

i haven't been able to write lately
haven't been able to place my finger on a single, fleeting emotion
before it is whisked away into nothingness
the vocabulary within me is surely going to waste
as i grasp at straws in attempts to make them grow into beanstalks
these days, i'm not sure if i'm happy or sad,
but the uncertainty is enough to keep me busy for now
i'd rather not know one side more than the other,
but what i do want to be sure of is how you feel about me
i can be the goddess of the sun of your tantalizing universe
or i can be but a speck of dust leftover in a dark recess of your mind
and you can be either of those to me,
but in the end, i'll always prefer warmth over isolation