is the sun lonely?
jealous of the moon?
the moon has all the stars
everywhere there are hundreds of stars around it

the sun has only the sky
however it wants more
the sun chases the moon
and it's never fast enough
the moon moves away

then there are the clouds
even if they move
they always come back
but still sometimes,
the clouds aren't what the sun craves for

and maybe that's us
I'm the moon you're the sun
I'm the sun you're the moon
we're too different
to exist side by side

On a late afternoon stroll,
the blue sky slowly dims,
as billowing clouds of gray
and white, move farther and
farther away...like wavelets
on a stream.....always going
forward, never flowing back.

among a stream of faces, i wish
to be a shy spark, barely bright
like those tiny bearers of light
on starry or moon-glowed nights.

ah, to be like a child, with eyes
aglow, beaming with a smile,
when these dots of light
emerge on dark hours,
high and low...i forget life's
nagging murmurs of unfairness.

i err, as i am human, but when
i see the clouds, i see God's face.
He sees me without fail, as i rise
from the grass...or from a fall.

i join those low-keyed glowers at night,
with them, i'm just, a bigger firefly,
seeking truth in their short-lived light.
:::::::::::::
::::::::::

sally b

© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
July 15, 2021

DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, new poem:)

not the best lens emitted such light
delicate weathers upon previous sights
in a dived listening exile
the carry of the Earth in a swift's mile
in the blink
the week's blur and the paint's sink
raging on red sunsets
raging on yellow's pale sulfur the dreams let
the twirl of winds
on the worlds of the flipped
like in every sky
the one of the days that the one of the nights
fogs in a hurry
what's grey is the face of worry
never know if you don't see for yourself
that the clouds above this roof are the same above that shelf
not always a purple fairytale
August slipped away a coat in the cruelest detail
haven't even begun them storms
the already seen is a scare out of the norm
peace to heart
yet my mind awoke in fear from each start
these bugging times
are the times of memory loss in a hellish crime
the one sun the one full moon
how stars shine mystically reaching future's soon
and me in here as shown
tracing a map of the intuition's unknown
delusion
maybe a disguised mood before the ultimate confusion
the one month of picking up pieces
the dark is long so sleepless to the hope decreases
yet I do know that the same will return in ease and flow
been recalling that for the last two years in a row
the outer skies
now a reason to fly


                                                           ­              -------ravenfeels

I'm by the window on the 5th floor
the view can only be described
as average
the clouds were in my head before
now they glide above the
hard stone bridge
observed from the window floor
alongside a placebo pill
and a bevarage.

It was a blurry reflection I saw in the clouds,
it was clear in the sky and as if I was facing my own body —
my legs can barely walk, my hands were trembling
and I can only open my mouth to breathe.

Though there are birds who prey on me, my wings have kept me on guard
and I stood still, alone, with my legs broken
and of little faith.

The world bestowed upon me was ruthless for someone as dreamy and a little in love as me —
I wish that sometimes I can be as hard as a rock,
so the world can see how cruel I am to her
and give me something that I can call a spark of joy.

I have beheaded myself from having to only daydream about falling in love, I have disconnected the veins flowing around my heart —
so it won't feel anything, but even the day sets down and night comes up,
I would still be in love and be of little faith, that I, part of a million particles living in on this earth — can still be held by a man whom I hold on so dearly.

Maybe if I would be less cruel to myself and nice to hard rocks, he will find me and I can walk again.
Maybe my heart that was made of soft cotton easy to be pulled by can be colorful like the blue sky,
and my face can mirror back the clouds' reflection —
and my hands can touch the end fur of the trees dancing when they see me in love wholly and less ruthless.

Maybe if I say maybe now, I can be held like I am a precious gem in his eyes and the birds won't be my enemies anymore,
they will sing wedding bells' songs and I'd smile in regards,
I will strum my harp and the only thing I can get by at the end of the day was his smile,
and that will build my little faith, and I will feel the love again, the once daydreamer, has now fulfilled her reality.

And I am back again in writing these, for myself while I continue to work and I sit here — in front of my desktop waiting for my reveries to come to life.

Watching the clouds
float across the sky.
But I know a hidden sun’s
still there watching.
The sweet scent of the morning air
in the midst of this dreary gloom,
Someday I’ll meet my fate up there,
up there among those feathery clouds.
And though I’d get rained on sometimes,
there was never any storm
I couldn’t handle.