Cynthia Buhain-baello Poems

Beyond the thunderclouds and raging storms
Of this finite life there still forms
A symbol of Hope that we call a rainbow
That unseen bridge we cross from each sorrow.
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Sometimes, praise like moonbeams
Shower our writer's paths with rays
That touch our many reached-for dreams
And refresh our rather routine days.
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I've reached this age when I can read
Through words, a speaker's portrait.
For words reveal the truth and lead
To what appearances negate.
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It takes more than titles
To make a man a father.
For all of us have foibles
But fathers try to do better.
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Sometimes, praise like moonbeams
Shower our writer's paths with rays
That touch our many reached-for dreams
And refresh our rather routine days.
...

Love is like a sought-for dream that sometimes
Turns into an unexpected nightmare,
An imagined bliss we kept in our prime
That breaks the naive heart with sorrow there.
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We're proud of things we're in control
Relaxed, at ease with daily cares.
We rule ourselves, no fear at all
As we juggle desires and money affairs.
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To stand
With courage here
One holds on to the truth,
Life values handed down to us
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I used to think being different was being unique,
Outstanding because of some quality that's an exception.
But now it seems to mean acting like a lunatic
Dressed up in such an outrageous pretension.
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Where are the brave, those men of courage?
Where are the pious people of God?
Where are the Good who stand and rage,
Where are their voices, the views they had?
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