Cynthia Buhain-baello Poems

Dead poets live
With words left behind
To linger in life's pages
Read again by others
...

At break of day
I turned
To touch
Your side of bed
...

Distress is the catalyst of Change
Provoking a nagging unease
To seek out resolving range,
As it births metamorphosis
...

Petals graced with dew
demure in simplicity,
sprightly fiery hues
catching one's sight perfectly,
...

Met a little priest
He kneels in constant duty
Never goes amiss
With petitions, ceaselessly
...

'What is it you want to say? '
The old man curtly asked.
'Don't color Verses gray,
With Darkness there unmasked.
...

I'll tell you a little secret
Girls don't usually tell
Childhood days I can't forget
When I was eight, oh well.
...

Protesting words denied
Her love and deep affection
He gently kissed her hand
And... looked into her eyes.
...

Imagination
is boundless, a gift blessing
the creative mind, freedom
to soar horizons
...

Today, this pen has the chance,
Its moment of eternal worth -
To weave some words of Substance,
Perhaps in Wisdom, carried forth.
...