I wonder, love, if you see
these stars that hang over me
or if you, so far away,
forget to look up?

The horizon was pure Magic:
Pink blue white softness ~ Light born
At the sunset ~ full Moon in bloom. . .
Saw you on wheels  ~ son!

India women dip white
linen cloths into vats of
the most beautiful colors,
Yogis meditate.


*Dodoitsu 7,7,7,5  Japanese style of poetry. Circa 1600s. Often concerning love or work, and usually comical.  In my case I was trying to show an analogy between dipping into meditation and the dipping of cloth in a vat of dye. But I also found it humorous that the men meditated, while the women worked.

the rock face had altered
after years of weathering
it had gone from rough to smooth
this is erosion

(a second time posting)


T'was a short poem I was reading...
I had started writing
My comments,
When...
Along came a very strange feeling,
With very strange thoughts:

"This... has exactly happened before...
This poem...I have read before...
Written these very same thoughts before!"

Over and over, I blinked... had to make sure...
But, all at once... one brief moment...
I found myself seated beside a grand piano,
By a wide ostentatious stairway,
In a bright, candle-lit mansion...
But, stranger still, while I was writing,
My eyes strayed to my right,
To a mirror by the wall...
I saw a handsome young man,
With slightly long curly hair,
Wearing a long-sleeved, white ruffled shirt
And a pair of dark pants,
Holding paper and quill,
Looking back at me.

I was staring at myself!!!

I was holding the paper,
Where I had written my thoughts,
About a poem titled,
"....WILT...."



Sally

Copyright November 5, 2013
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

::::::

             Below is Timothy's poem,
             the reason for my "Deja Vu."


WILT

The wilting of the flowers;
Ephemeral bubble bursts;
The last grains of sand run out;—
I wilt just like flow'rs.


~Timothy~
Dodoitsu.
© Timothy 30 July, 2013.

the scent of sweet lavender
which floated through the pretty field
reminded him of a girlfriend
in his college days

a lambent sphere of sunlight
doth grace our patch of landscape
the gullies and hillsides
glimmer in its rays