You want to be manipulated,
you like it this way, to be robbed from your agency, to be imprisoned deliberately. And in the sandbox play as you will, With known constraints And known space to fill. You want it altered just so enough As to tell things apart, But to be told where they belong, Hinted at what’s right or wrong. And in the new stuff find exhilaration , But newness is old news; Just give them the passion.
Written in May 2020.
— Copyright © M. Solav —
This work may not be used in entirety or in part without the prior approval of its author. Please contact
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I'd like to be buried in sand
so when an archeologist, an excavationist, or a child walks into the sandbox, they might believe my body is a hidden treasure, and for once, I would be remembered.
More sand? We're surrounded by sand!
Even as the golden embers of the Sun
sweep the rough surfaces of wood, the rays command the light to twist, to show the perfectly imperfect portrait of life. Even as nature's breath let the crisp autumn leaves sway with the air, you don't cease your own little dance within the children's sandbox. Even as your eyes crinkle along the edges with your nose crunching like a flower bud, you seem as if you were Touch-Me-Nots that found its way to become a Sunflower. Even as we align like a seesaw with weights that drift us apart to a distance, but bring us closer to the equilibrium, we would always be close but never quite there. Even as I see you the way that I do, even if my words won't reach you, I write all these to let other seedlings know of a special flower called *you.
happy birthday to *yoo. :")
A good set of knives in the kitchen
A pillow that cradles my head A total absence of religion A cat that is not overfed Some positives to look forward to Some leeway when I get things wrong Some purpose in the stuff I Have to do Some justice in the Bads I've undergone The idea I can sing Frank Sinatra The confidence to dance a good Jive The not hiding behind all my armour The knack of always being there on time I want the days in my Sandbox to be perfect I want my Castles to shine in the Sun I want the Wars outside to be sound effects Inside I want only Love
I'm a kid in a sandbox,
as if each sand molecule is a word. and every pile built becomes a poem. I am a kid in the sandbox building a castle of visionary verses, as inner child comes out and time stops. I am a kid in the sandbox, constructing inside grace, Inside the moment that holds endless creative poetry. I am a kid in the sandbox , putting on a writers hat who will never grow up.
beautiful thing about poetry, is it's anything you want.
Society is just a bunch of little kids
Playing in the dirt, Grubby fingers digging in the mud, Wide eyes and buck toothed grins Awestruck by shiny pebbles. All we will ever know or will ever see Is contained in this 10 by 10 square Of ants and stray blades of grass, Hands sticky with fruit juice.
Idea credit to my friend Allie :)
— The End —