Holly N Baglio

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    • Home
    • My Book
    • D&V I
    • D&V II
    • D&V III
    • D&V IV
    • D&V V
    • Interviews
    • Vlog
    • Poetry
    • Transhumanism

Holly N Baglio

Holly N BaglioHolly N BaglioHolly N Baglio
  • Home
  • My Book
  • D&V I
  • D&V II
  • D&V III
  • D&V IV
  • D&V V
  • Interviews
  • Vlog
  • Poetry
  • Transhumanism

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@~}~~~, written 2000 {the symbol of this poem is a rose}

So how did you think I would respond?

Did you think I’d float around?

I keep switching the feet I use

All in a day and as everyone’s muse.


Gripping wouldn’t be for me

Blast it out of the water and float to sea.

Could it be smooth and blue and warm?

And take away all the bad and all the harm?


So did you know the pedestal you sat

Was from me, where I placed your lap?

Breath of fresh air, it goes right through me.

This feeling stays and never seems to leave….


Even if you turn it around,

I’m still here and I taste your soul.

It’s intertwined with mine,

Just like the colors that crack in sunshine.


{{Published in Journey to the Stars, and read by a professional reader with an Orchestra playing in the background.}}
{{Copyrighted}}


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After All is Said and Done, 10/22/2011

Turn down the sheets, leave a light on

Lock the sills, lower the heat, everyone is gone

I lie in bed and think until a dream takes over

A success, powerhouse and passion, intelligent, clever

All the things I am made of was swallowed by pain

After All is Said and Done, I’m alone, no family, just rain


Hobbies and friends, the world in my hands

Money grew on trees and I owned our bloodlines’ land

It’s much different now, more dark and cold

No sentiments, only doctors and clouds, no diamonds and gold

All the things now I’m made of are gone

After All is Said and Done


Somewhere in the words, something happened on A day

Life grabbed hold, change is coming and without delay

I rose from that bed, Thanked GOD the dream ended

Looked deep inside and know there’s nothing time can’t mend

I will and I do, Not to become like you, To have a clue

My heart pounded out of my chest and the ground moved

I know what I am made of, I know who I am

I felt like I was dead, walking among the damned

Life is now in my grasp, everyone is not gone

It changed, time heals, After All is Said and Done.

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Almost Poetic, 4-21-2010

Almost poetic on a Saturday night

all quiet except buzzing from a street light

streams of heat rise from the pavement

as winds blow a cold rainy front in.


Could ever I write so true and proud

Could the winds blow writers’ block out

away from my sliding glass door

before my ideas are crumpled on the floor.


Once I had a heart that loved

a world of romance I wrote of

Now I fear a cynical storm coming over me

same as writers’ block that won’t leave.


Roaring thunder is the sound of my soul

Crashing against my body wanting peace alone

It hurts so much to love, I would know

Ironically it’s the one thing I don’t own.


Almost poetic how a storm rolls away

the heat comes back, the cold breezes into decay

it hits me again, that YOU; what do I do?

with YOU I could love hopelessly and true.

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I SO PRAY FOR THIS, 8/7/2014

Don’t you know, can you not see?
Can you feel me, can you try?
I have come such a long far way
Through Sun and through the Fray
There was a Prayer with Your Name on it
LOVE has sent me Hol, and you can have it!
 

Don’t you know, you asked for me,

With You is Where I’m supposed to Be
Cannot you tell, do not you remember?
You prayed for a perfect man, even to raise hell over!
Sweet little Hol, rest your weary head

I am here and I got you,
….And in your dreams, we became free
….which lead to an awesome reality.


{YESHUA Ha Mashiach is the man I write of in this poem.}

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blue, 2001

Missing the touch, do I so ever!

Forgetting how to be with another

Is this what time will keep me in

Or will it lift again to let me live?


Longer, how much, dear lord?

The past has much recorded

In the future will it continue,

Or leave me always this blue?


Comes around, if it does,

Will I remember how it goes?

Will I mess it up, can you tell me!

I pray that love will shine upon me!


How long, how short, just tell me when

Please tell me that it is something I can

I beg and wait, deny and block out

Every night is alone and that’s all I’m about


{{Published in Walking in the Shadows}}

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Cliche, 1990's

All the words within my head, cannot make the mountains crumble,

Or make music of my mumble,

Or give the seas more flare,

Or planets more glare.

I can only make a cliché,

And repeat what the others say.

All the feelings I feel, can’t give this earth a quake,

Or have the flowers bloom and wake,

Or make the nights more soft,

Or slow the minutes to last.

I can only make a cliché,

And repeat what the others say.

All I can do is wonder and cry,

Fighting for something new for you.

All I can do is give you a light,

And make a wish for me and you,

But all I can give is this cliché,

And hope it’s better than what the others say!


{{Published in Best Poems of the 90s}}

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No title, 2014

Could it be the movies I watch?

It looked all gross, like an egg in hatch.

Could it be the music I gyrate to?

most times the lyrics, I haven’t a clue

or maybe its vibrations,

and all those other sensations.

It sounded all choppy, and awkward

like a record played backward

Is that what they choose

to hypnotize you to?

Maybe it’s in the food or news,

or someone else’s point of view…

maybe it’s in your soul 

or wrapped in a jar, somewhere in a hole. 

Did you think to listen quietly?

in a forest amongst the wind and trees

down in a cave, or hanging off a mountain,

or when you sleep a top a cloud’s hand

I’m crashing and burning, figuring it out again

it’s vivid, subtle, my head is spinning

it ALL feels so brand new,

even I am out of the blue!

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Could You Live?, 8/13/1993

Landed on rocks

and on it man has built up blocks

There’s an ideal dominion

With people together under one opinion.


An idealistic roam

Letting thought be plenty shown

With history, crafts, and science

a beauty without defiance.


With a wheel and a whim

And a man learning the wind

Material is done without

and coins are not their clout.


Could you live in an ideal age

and have the meaning on just one page

Where realizing you know nothing

Is the highest of knowledge to be?


and this was their wisest analogy.

Could you live in an ideal age

and have the slaves

treated humane

and never maimed


With all the families protecting in dark

in only one home and only one spark?

On one side is Aristocracy

and on the other is Democracy


loyalty is how they kept so free

with trading and making needs

No chaos or hurting of people

with intent to keep from evil.


A court of jurors six thousand in all

with right in mind, deciding their law

No murder or wrongdoing

No excuses of not-knowing


No loopholes

or judges bending the laws.

Could you live in an ideal age

where the answer’s just one page


with a thought of beauty

indulged in philosophy

with intelligence and moral

held within the hearts of people?


Could you live in an ideal age

where all in beauty is your engage

knowledge and flowers to cherish and find

buildings of rock that tower the sky


made by a person in a BC time

idealistically inclined.

We could not live in an ideal age

for money and power is all we rage


no beautiful world we have created

no way to change, it’s all too late

People today stay so unkind

Never us, never our time! 


{{Published in 1990s}}

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Golden Girl, 1/2014

What a good hearted Golden Girl I used to be
I did things right and people listened to me
Now I meet everything with the back of my hand
the pavement steams where their broken hearts land.
 

Please don't toss me aside
I'll behave, I promise not to collide
with everyone in this place...
I promise not to rearrange their face
I promise forgiveness and all my grace.
 

I don't want to hold on, I just can’t hold on
Why is there a problem with everyone
What a good hearted Golden Girl I used to be
before this world determined what became of me!
 

I'm letting go, Please help me before I go

it’s no longer up to me, I let the wheel go
While the war is lost these battles keep rolling in
Will I, the Golden Girl become good hearted again?

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SYM, 1994

From out his window I saw you climb

What has happened, what to do?

I sought to tell you not to go

Love I can but not for you,

For it is he who has no clue.

Months flew by with second minutes.

Need not I the same as you

My heart I’ll open to a point,

Then a time will come to shut.

I want to know the all of you,

From a distance to not fordo.

The night that carried your losing shadow,

I felt the rain upon his window.

That very moment, did not I see,

Myself, the middle, I came to be.

Have I a sill upon which to place,

a 14 Karat golden face?

Have I a flower reflecting your beauty,

with delicate fragrance to which I seek?

Have I a charm to sparkle twining,

for you to see my many feelings.

How must I keep away the bees,

and all the harm from threatening thee?

Have I a way protecting panes,

not to let the paint from chipping?

If when the moon is shining out,

Do I sit beside your sill,

or do I call and yell about,

a word that burns and holds you still?

Where must I spend my time,

alone with you or by myself?

Can I toss a dime,

and hope it lands down on your shelf?

This is all I am right now,

what else is there I may allow.

Not the same of you I am.

Emotions have not I compromise,

and more to give I maybe can.

When I saw his shattered window.

I told him things I’d never say.

Where you go his darkened shadow,

Do we fit another day? 

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Untitled, July 17, 1993

I may only have this poem

where my heart can fill a line

but when you leave and I’m alone

I feel good I held you tight


I may not have a beautiful voice

to sing this poem for you

I cannot compose a masterpiece

about the wonderfulness you do,


I may not be a diary

wanting my past to later be seen

I cannot erase my wrongful deeds

so left would be the best of me.


I may only make you laugh

and maybe only make you smile

One thing though I’d love to have

Is you within my life to love.

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Your Poem, April 16, 1991

If I were a painter

I’d paint your face

until the color got fainter

for change takes that pace.


If I were a sculptor

the molds of you

would make my thoughts grow fonder

and give my heart a grove


If I were a millionaire

since you’re beyond money’s value

I’d give the money away to share 

and I’d give all my soul to you


If I were a poet

I’d write everyday for you

Hopefully you’d finally know it

Hopefully then, you’d know I Love You….

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