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  Feb 2023 Sally A Bayan
Carlo C Gomez
~
I know your glow
it moves on tracks
of never-ending light

illumine, my dear glimmer

an ornament of love
spiraling along
flightpaths to each other

one maybe a failure in flickers

yet another a successful sparkle
drifted down gently as snow
about the tactile lanterns
of your hands and face

~
Sally A Bayan Jan 2023
----------------------

Sous le plafond blanc
de notre maison,

je suis la voix
je fixe des règles
je suis reine… pourtant,

Sous un plafond de
ciel bleu clair sans limites,

Je suis
infinitésimal...

::::::::::::

sally b
©Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan



>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

(English Version)


Under the white ceiling
of our house,

I am the voice
i set rules
i am queen…yet,

Under a ceiling of
limitless light blue skies,

I am
infinitesimal...
:::::::::::

sally b

©Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
  Jan 2023 Sally A Bayan
Nat Lipstadt
when does the poem end?


creation is never ending,
the earth is endlessly morphing

but you lean back and say
enough
not because the poem
is finished,
for it is never finished,
because an exhalation feels
satisfying, releasing

but the poem never ends,
nor does the need to

exhale

not with the final .


the next poem is

but a

continuation

of the previous poem;

a continuation

of you~poem,

inhaling

and

exhaling

& morphing.

Sat Jan 7
7:57am
Go into the arts. I'm not kidding. The arts are not a way to make a living. They are a very human way of making life more bearable. Practicing an art, no matter how well or badly, is a way to make your soul grow, for heaven's sake. Sing in the shower. Dance to the radio. Tell stories. Write a poem to a friend, even a lousy poem. Do it as well as you possibly can. You will get an enormous reward. You will have created something. ~Kurt Vonnegut
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