Biography of Cynthia BuhainBaello
Writing poetry is passion, like breathing. If my writing touches but one life and gives it hope, then I have done my purpose in writing. I like poems that rhyme, have rhythm, and meaning, or poems that tell a story. At present, I am into the study of Asian forms of poetry such as the Naani (Indian Telugu form) and the Japanese poetry forms Haiku and Tanka. I like writing the Ninette, Pleiades, Octelle, Kyrielle, and Cinquian, Couplet, and the Septolet.
I've loved reading poetry since I was a child and some kids thought I was weird but I enjoyed it. I tried to write poems as early as age 8, some were published by the nuns in our school paper. One thing I found out, I was happy writing poetry - that's the most important thing, I think.
My favorite poets are Dorothy Parker, Ogden Nash, Walt Whitman, Christina Rossetti, Edgar Allan Poe, Rudyard Kipling, Roald Dahl, Langston Hughes and Lord Alfred Tennyson.
My poems have been featured in inspirational sites, 'A Breath of Inspiration' including works such as 'He is In My Boat' 'Emilie'(Jewel Chest awardee - www.faithwriters.com) , 'The Greatest Gift', 'Apolutrosis', 'Reislience' (published in The Anguilian) and 'Robert'. I write personalized poetry, memorial poems, wedding poems, and poems for baby's christening.
The poem 'Wolf', 'An Eerie Tale', 'A True Ghost Story', 'Death Comes to Any Age' 'The Pastor's Letter' 'For My Lost Brother' 'Sister Elly Ann' 'Merienda' are all true stories.
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(Note: THERE IS NO POET NAMED CYNTHIA MARIE BUHAIN here on Poemhunter, an impostor used my email address to create this bogus poet account. Please be informed I have only one account here.)
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Cynthia BuhainBaello's Works:
My poem 'Resilience' was published in 'The Anguillan' (on line) March,2011.
Other poems publsihed in an anthology 'Permanent Travelers' Vol. i- III www.amazon.com
http: //www.amazon.com/gp/product/1491057041? ie=UTF8&force-full-site=1&ref_=aw_bottom_links
- Traveler (rictameter)
- This Ebullient Pen
- Woman (International Woman's Day 2015)
- Thoughts Are Like Trees (Naani- 25 syll...
- Writing Thoughts (Naani poem)
- I've Never Known Winter
- SOWING AND REAPING
- A Writer Is A Writer
- HEARTS (quatrains)
- We Did Not Choose to Be But We Are
- The First One
- Red Bucket Ship
- Here Today, Gone Tomorrow
- Our God, Alive!
Cynthia BuhainBaello Poems
The Eyes Are Windows
The eyes are windows of the heart Wherein transparency will show A myriad feelings to impart From where in sadness, tears do flow.
A Baby's Laughter
Each time I hear a baby's laughter I feel a tickle in my heart. I have to stop and listen better
Clay Story (10 Syllables Per Line Poem)
Strange how Life can be more than a story Plots and characters bring a pleasant thrill With laughter and tears, some sad and funny Tragedies and heartaches may bring Pain's chill.
A Father's Tears (Free Verse)
Consummate pain Like a cruel wrench Gripped his heart And crushed, it bled
The Hunter (Narrative Poetry)
His time and wealth all there For him, possessed just to enjoy But hunting was a pleasure where His shooting skills he could employ.
Woman (International Woman's Day 2015)
Light of the home, Hope of a nation- Woman you become An inspiration.
My heart's forever grateful For in my life I found A love so true and faithful Intense and without bounds.
A Lonely Man
Unfounded were his concerns About the need for ample finances Marriage to the woman for whom he yearns To share his life's remaining pages.
A Heart That Worships
A heart that worships is so emptied Of fears, of doubts and worrying It speaks in joy for what God did In praise and thanks it always sings.
Yes I Am A Christian, Does That Bother Y...
My words they come As I want them to They may cut some Does that bother you?
A Father's Legacy
My Father's words are my legacy He gave the pen of ardent writing. The love for books and careful study, And wealth of knowledge gained by reading.
Words Like Pebbles
Words like pebbles Thrown down a pond Will cause some ripples That go around.
Midnights breathe an eerie silence Such a distinct hush that even crickets hear In subdued chirping they intently hearken Each muffled sound says the twelfth hour's near.
I tell the life story Of the lines in your face, I have a good memory Of the years with each gaze.
As precious as the golden sands
That fleeting winds blow freely,
Once in flight, he never lands
And with no leave, departs quickly.
He does not stop for any master,
Nor does he wait for any king.
For those who love, he will not falter,
For the dying, he is everything.