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Sometimes the Moon is just
the Moon
Stars simply stars
They're just reliable objects
They just are
And birds are just birds
They're pretty
They fly
Often words are just words
They're witty
They lie
And colors are just granted
Sort of like you and I
Until each pretty petal
just withers and dies
The steeple penetrates
the puffy pink
clouds, and the
horizon squirts
sweet rain.
My face gets
sticky.
Guess the theme.
Young spark

Slipping on the shoes
Of a thespian,

A walk about
Wonderland,

Yet, in a fog
You lost your father
On final approach,

The twinkle
Of your light went out,

In quiet step,
Tenderfoot,

Turned
One degree
Too far,

And lost you were
Upon a London flat.

Birthday girl,

It's not your fault.
For Katherine Walsh (1947 -1970)

        /          
         *       \
|         \      *      
       *             \             *


Fresh snowflakes continue to fall,
in case there'd be no squalls at all,

Let's make slow soundless paces,
and with our well wrapped limbs
we'll tread on vast white spaces
while humming joyful hymns.

Our eyes, we'll let them wander
through sun and serene blue skies.
our feet definitely will go yonder
on grounds soft, immaculate white,

like freezing fields of white cotton.
our shrieks and laughter won't be loud,
we'll go forward with much caution,
as a stillness gobbles up the sounds.

We calculate our steps...we reflect,
overwhelmed by a calming presence,
a break from life's noise...we accept
the peace of a reigning white silence.


sally b

©Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
December 26, 2021

#peace #snow #reflection #whitesilence #sallyb
 Jan 2022 Tanisha Jackland
Sarah
if it were up to me
we would meet at the edge
of the earth and the sea
in the space between
dreams and reality
and that's where we'd stay
for eternity
-


Momma died two decades ago,
she would have turned
seventy-eight to—day

i woke up and spoke with her
this morning, imagining her
with a long red Irish mane

about Daddy being laid up in a
nursing home, my brother and
i hoping to fix him before he
finally gives up

she said—  "nothing"

i think maybe this is because
she long ago saw the lights
up ahead, in a place where
human conversation would
be considered archaic

and birthdays rendered
as undefined

she is illuminated within it now,
there to later show the way for
the rest of us who continue
marking our calendars

as we persist here on Earth—
still enumerating yesterday,
to–day, and tomorrow...



s jones
30 Dec 2021


.
Happy Birthday Momma...
Then at noon
where I am one
equinoxed
my sun found me
a Icarus.
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