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Sally A Bayan Sep 2021
Awake still...sipping coffee this
unholy hour...i wonder how buried
moments can easily gatecrash into
my sober flow of thoughts, flipping
like pages of a book, blown by a
strong wind...i could smell dried rose
petals pressed between the pages.

i could also smell mottled pages
holding mottled memories...they
should have crumbled, be forgot,
but, bravely, they flash back, clear
as the rustling of bamboo leaves
right outside my window.....ahh,
the devil never sleeps...he creates
a stir at the unholiest of hours,
drops it like a bomb, disturbing
my calm universe;

suddenly, it's 4:00 am
i blink a few times to dismiss what
should be forgot.....then, suddenly,
it's 5:00 am.....more coffee.

the eyes watching bubbles from
curling, crisping bacon, strayed,
far from the skillet, but, focused
back, before the pieces got burned.

6:00 am now...breakfast time
for online class attendees.

in my universe, mornings are a
mix of sniffs...of coffee, fried eggs,
fried bacon, sausages, fragrant
gardenia blooms...not to forget
whiffs of good and bad memories.
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Good morning everyone!

sally b

© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
July 13, 2021
K Balachandran Mar 2016
A girl sitting at the table next
restless, was slyly eyeing his pie,
kind of cute, like in childhood
it sure was, yet seemed a ploy
to gatecrash in to his privacy,
and give company, as it pleased her.
"The pie is blackberry if you fancy it ,
I''ll be glad, you can have it all,
I know there is no other left"
He played Mr.Nice guy,solicitous,
but behind that face of his,
was the arrows of light, hitting him,
from those  sparkling eyes,
vying with each other, to build up
a halo chamber,  almost visible  around him!

Blackberry pie is no big deal, of course
he knows a whole hillside with
bushes full of ripe, succulent ones,
any day he could have his fill, raw
or as a flaky crusted pie backed by his mom.

But those sparkling eyes that in a moment
made him build castles in the air
had an electric appeal, he can't ignore.
The offer she said, was irresistible,
not a type she is who snatches,
dainty stuff from someone just bumped in to
"But the way your eyes did glint,
when you looked makes me ask
:haven't we met somewhere before?"

"There is a fickleness in this,love at first sight,
do you need to fall head over heels?"
a little voice within, that has a problem
in such things, kept raising a doubt.
"But without a first sight,there can't be love
may it be fickle, we'll tackle it the way it goes"
replies another,who seems to care for love.
The bracelet curled around your wrist
skin embracingly ornamental....representing
eternity.  I remember when we shopped
windows lit up to enhance the jewelled effect

Wore bright smiles, coats that salvaged
hid the chill from our bones. The cold air paid
a high price to gatecrash our sentiments,
it did not succeed and skulked off to bite

into the heart of one whose flesh was delicate
who wore woes, like parrots clinging to
Shoulders of pirates at sea...all at sea...for dear life
Clearly slipping in and out at sea level
I saw them pegged out, unaware of those tagged
Expressions, labelled on the outside
And me, fingers grasping the secret of our love
Affair, bought and paid for in gold
Not about me
...Sunrise and a new day
indebted life of
a scapegoat
Dancing into the tune
with a rattlesnake
behind the black curtains
Shotgun to the head
and a barrel to drink
Dazed
under a worn out tuxedo
there's no room to share
the Truth
Gatecrash before the night
seals the gate
Blame is
under the torn wings
upon my shoulder
Funny they're not of my own
but I wonder
why the burden brings
a haunted
slumber...
Mek
08.12.09
Donall Dempsey Mar 2018
THE TALK OF THE TUDOR WORLD

It is the talk of
the Tudor World.

But  - the Hello Magazine
Time Machine

has managed to gatecrash
the "Princelye Pleasures

of the Queens
Majesty

and her Sommery
Progress."

It is the July
of 1575.

Trump wanted to go
but we said: "NO!"

He's messed up our Future
don't want him to mess up this Past.

Took a hairy Irish
poet instead.

So here we be
at Killing Worth Castle

Warwick Sheer, where
"All loves meet...

...to create one soul!"
as Mr. Decker has it.

Leicester and Eliza
dance the Volta

with lewd look
in eye.

The paparazzi
wet themselves!

The Queen deports
her self "in full sight!"

The famous fountain
spurting with "such vehemency!"

as to "moysten"
we time travellers

"...from top to toe!"

Already our passions
enflamed by carved erotica.

Such "rich and hard
white Marbl."

Oh that naughty Ovid
and his wicked tales.

The great fireworks
reflected in Eliza's eye.

Her Majesty skips
and dances high.

Leicester's hand
beneath her bust

takes her and turns her
with the lifting ******

of his mighty thigh
against the ******'s Royal backside.

Well...we never!

"Oh!" and ". . .ooooh!"
the Queen cries.

Sweet sweat trickles
through her make-up.

Three weeks of wooing
a Queen's hand

although it is rumoured he has
had  much more than that!

The wondrous artificial lake
mirrors the falling sky.

Scotland and Ireland
are in uproar.

Eliza's  "pirates"
attacking Spanish silver convoys.

Her procrastinating over Mary's fate
her famous "answerless answers."

Screams from the Tower.
Another turn of the rack.

Time to be gone
methinks!

Set the controls
for 2001.
Dancing, sayeth Philip Stubbes in 1583, is altogether a “horrible vice”. In his infamous work THE ANATOMIE OF ABUSES.

Stubbes ranted.... “what clipping, what culling, what kissing and bussing, what smouching and slabbering of one another: what filthy groping and unclean handling is not practised everywhere in these dancings... provoketh lust, and the fires of lust and once conceived…burst forth into the open action of whoredom and fornication.”

So dancing allowed certain libertien to be taken with the opposite *** but the dance that scandalised the then known world was the one and only ***** Volta  -which of course made it a hit with the Elizabethan court. It had the inbuilt indecency of highly intimate contact between man and woman.

A guide to the dance advised that “if you wish to dance the volta…you must place your right hand on the damsel’s back, and the left below her bust, and, by pushing her with your right thigh beneath her buttocks, turn her”.

Slow and stately movements  ruled the roost before the volta made its entrance.

Totally condemned throughout Europe among certain circles. In his 1592 work,‘A Godly Treatise on the Ungodly Dance’, Johann von Münster fumed that even kings were promoting the wicked dance:

“In this dance the dancer with a leap takes the young lady – who also comes to him with a high jump to the measures of the music – and grasps her in an unseemly place…With horror I have often seen this dance at the Royal Court of King Henry III in the year 1582, and together with other honest persons have frequently been amazed that such a lewd and unchaste dance, in which the King in person was first and foremost, should be officially permitted and publicly practiced.”

A century later, Johannes Praetorius, condemned the volta in his book on the practices of witchcraft, Blockes-Berges Verrichtung. He wrote:

“A new galliard, the volta ...a foreign dance in which they seize each other in lewd places and which was brought to France by conjurors from Italy… a whirling dance full of scandalous, beastly gestures and immodest movements…responsible for the misfortune that innumerable murders and miscarriages are brought about by it”.

In 1575, poor old Dudley still had hopes of winning Elizabeth and he staged an elaborate three week festival that was pretty much his last ditch do or die effort to impress her.

Her time was completely filled up with all of her favorite passions, elaborately choreographed.;There was dancing, riding, and hunting; as well as more public festivals and pageants

The cost was staggering – well over £1000/day, and was on a scale never before seen in England

There was one where a mechanical dolphin rose out from the water and concealed within were musicians and a singer

.A huge fireworks display lit up one night, there were new gardens with fountains built, and Elizabeth stayed in the new state apartments that Leicester built.

Even though Dudley was unsuccessful in his quest to win Elizabeth, the festival he created was the talk of the Tudor world for some time.

Now all we needed was a time machine and Hello magazine. Oh and one hairy Irish poet!
You see I was looking for beautiful woman to snuggle up with but nobody wanted to be with me, no matter how hard I tried I could never get the perfect woman, so I decided to
Make up a whole woman out of my mind, and everything turned out well until it became time for the woman to meet the parents
And this was the hard bit
Because I didn't want to bring a new woman in forcing her to pretend to be by lover because
Things could get ****** weird
And at that moment in time I was too shy to find the perfect woman and one guy told me
If you want a woman to keep for your very own join an internet group, you won't be hassled or anything because most of them
Just want companions and they can't find companions in anyone they see around them
And I said how am I going to do that because nobody wanted to be my companion
I am a regular guy
I like having fun
And I like sports
And partying to cool music
It's just that I like my own style
Of partying
I don't want people to gatecrash it
I also like doing art
And I know there is a woman out there for me
But I find it hard because I don't
Want any hassles
So I find my made up woman is better even if I could appear a tad shy to try something that
You heard could  be dangerous
At least the made up woman doesn't judge you
And doesn't make fun of you

— The End —