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sol Jan 2017
bright yellow suns
make up his soul.
a sense of wonder
that could never fade.

a small yellow flower
with petals so fragile,
but the seed remains.
he will grow again.

a sense of wonder
he does contain
that speaks to him.
question everything.

a sense of hope
he does contain
that speaks to him.
the sun will rise again.
innocence
sol Jan 2017
the moon stood in the sky
with tools upon his back.
so he’d work through day
and through the night.

he forged the weapons of
warriors throughout his land,
and for one it was quite special
to hold a blade made from his hand.

the sun gleamed in the day,
but the moon was far away.
a star catcher he did make
to pull the sun into his wake.

eclipses aren’t made to last.
but their energy stays
a never forgotten past.
the moon enjoyed the sun’s rays.

so should he stand in shadows,
he was content with his fate.
at least the sun lived day to day.

the moon hid his pain, day to day,
for he hurt in way that mortals
could not know, could not speak.
his sorrow made gods fall to their knees

and so the moon toiled, day to day,
while the sun lived away
but he could not weep.
the sun was never his to keep.
rough piece. the bluebird and the moon's love story - experience (part two)
sol Jan 2017
the bluebird had queries and questions
and thought he should ask the moon,
but the moon was dark that night.
its hood was pulled tight.

the bluebird sighed, and so did the sun.
the sea greeted him with a waving hand.
“bluebird, bluebird up there!
the moon does not speak easy.
having its skin broken too many times.”

the bluebird whistled a sad tune.
“whatever shall i do, when i need the moon?
he will not speak, and i am too weak
to fly to him up there.”

the sea crashed against the rocky shore,
and its response was, “you need not wings,
bluebird, when the moon will come to you.
for when your light falls the moon will rise,
in the darkness it lights the skies.”

the bluebird huffed once again.
“i am not the sun, silly sea.
you mistake my feathers for blue skies,
i am not the stars in the night.”

but the bluebird could not see,
how bright he was to be.
and as he flew away,
the moon began to say,
“your wings are bigger than they seem.
bluebird, do not fret.
our time is to come together yet.

so the bluebird whistled a tune
as his wings expanded and grew,
and lifted him high into the sky,
and to the moon he drew nigh.
he landed among the stars.
bluebird, you will indeed go far.
the love story of the bluebird and the moon - innocence (part one)
  Dec 2016 sol
hellopoet
these words flow
fluid as cheap wine
crisply coloured as
any branded vintage

easy on worn pockets
dulls minds equally;
after several goblets
it all tastes the same

easy as **** to access
so go roses and petals
though they vary in look
are always same in smell
  Dec 2016 sol
chris
ll
No one cares unless you're rich or dying
sol Dec 2016
as they stand
there is paint on the walls
dripping

political statements scrawled
angry and upset
on old buildings
stenciled or not
caught or not
they are there

they wonder what they mean
the font is hard to read but
there is meaning
they can feel it in their chest
in their heart and mind
there is fear here
or there is triumph
regardless, there is meaning

there is meaning in spray cans
climbing over fences just so they can
make a statement
that passengers in cars will see
that trains will carry with their cargo

they carry this meaning
as they walk home
afraid of the flashing lights
because here they have the right
to say what they will fight for

there is no judgement here
so this is where they leave
their meaning on the world.
for the future
  Nov 2016 sol
riwa
i think i’ve fallen in love with being in love
so when i say i’m happy to see him
maybe i’m not
maybe i just mean i’m happy to see the figment of my imagination being realized

a figment of my imagination that has kept me company for so long
maybe i feel the butterflies in my stomach when he looks at me
not because my love for him has consumed me
but because it is what i believe i am supposed to feel in a situation like this

a situation like this is not something i’m used to
unrequited love is something i’ve grown far too familiar with
i’ve gotten so accustomed to seeing ghosts come and go
it is hard to believe that one will stay and materialize in front of me

in front of me is a boy
with the kindest heart
and so much love it could rain down and flood whole cities
and intentions so pure

as pure as the first snow fall of the season
his love reminds me of that;
you never know how much you're going to get
until the sun shines through
i guess i am the sun
and i guess now what i am trying to say is
i think i’ve fallen in love with him
11.22.16
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