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Blue is spirit and bright
The color and light
Of a wisp
Seeking through the night

Green is life and Joy
The color
Of summer time trees
The smile when you play with a toy

Yellow is the light of the night
Caring and pure
Helps anyone without a fight
They will be be your light

Black is dark but strong
More fragile then portrayed
but do not think them wrong
They still know love
But with the help of another
To light their way

Red is the sweetness of cherries
They will stay by your side
Their heart as pretty as daises
They love more pure then any other color
Just the sight of theirs or another pain
can make their eyes rain

Orange has the spirit of fire
Much like black and yellow
They will light you through the darkness
Until their fire burns out
Then they need a friend
To help them be free
And be the light they used to be

White i think the most confusing
Their hard to see
But When you see them
Their as special as anyone can be
Their quiet but always outspoken

Purple the color of a cats eyes
So watchful and careful
Ever so wise
Dont under estimate this beautiful soul
For it can go out of control
Emotions so strong but held by a string
They might need a friend
To help them find their wings
These are the colors of the souls
Whats the color of your soul?
I was once on the ground
Flying only a few meters
Now I spread out my wings
Piercing through the sky
Deniz Eilmore Oct 31
Life is painful
But what can we do?
There wouldn't be good
If there wasn’t bad too

Sure, it hurts
But from it you grow
You learn to spread your wings
And let it all go
Leo Janowick Oct 31
I have seen an angel, wearing one of its broken wings, crying, holding the pen to write but had nowhere to translate his writing. In the other hand, he held his wounded soul, as if the heart vanished in silence, I wanted to know if it was pain or the fact of not being able to fly or write sad, I went to see him and I saw with stupor, that I looked like.
The angel is not sad, just lay as a spring inside because he is not allowed to fall from heaven.
An angel cries, when the light of the soul has gone out when a wing has broken and we are condemned to walk among mortals when it changes its brightness to embrace and surrender its life.
An angel weeps when love has gone and the fast-flowing river has dried up of innocence, of beauty, of the subtlety of the enamored soul, seeing the legs of the mired souls who have lost the gift of walking, between stanzas of poetry, that they have lost the gift of opening their hearts, to the love that lives hidden among stories, between stories and prophecies, they have lost their amazement and surprise, they have lost the gift of love.
An angel cries, when love has gone to oblivion when the hooting of the wind cannot overcome the deep silence of a love that has departed or a friendship disguised as deception.
An angel cries knowing that someone has left, walking after other steps on a lost path, dressed in mourning because his mission and reason for existence are over.
Losing a wing, only means, becoming human and not being able to love, forgetting how to dream, what love is like and how it is to truly love, from the depths of the soul, without letting ourselves be embraced.
Therefore, in a distant path, where dream and reality come together, where dreams of past lives become future realities, there, where the name awaits perennial, where the light baggage becomes, where the word floats and the letters spill beyond the dream of dreams itself, on the threshold of the crow that perches on the lintel, beyond the mortal body and soul, where beings and ghosts are one, forgetful of journeys and captive souls, in the secluded corner, hidden obscurity that seizes, where the wind and the mist listen silences and the crowd in lost dawns, in your memory that lathe, smoke of molten ash, in the desperate cry, oppression of vague prejudices, in the muddied mind, poisons of tormented blood, beyond name and disorder, in normal sanity of madness, on the other side of this masquerade, hiding unbridled passions.
There, distant lands of blessed insolence, in wind and fire, air and smoke, in the dream of dreams.
There and only there, I will find the name of an Angel with broken wings.
erin Oct 24
i don't love you.
i simply love everything about you
i love the simple aggression of the way you write and speak, your mind which says volumes in almost no words at all.
i love the glint of determination always present into your deep dark eyes, which tell me that the strong woman inside is being trapped, trapped by the hollow cage of a girl she's been burdened with all these years.
i love the wings, the scales which shiver with every step and cast brilliant beams of light off of their sharp red wherever you go.
i love the rhythm which with your poetry echoes in me, making me feel the pain of the man, the woman, the child and the lonely girl who you talk about.
i love your friends
your interests
your love for coffee and bookstores and the rain

but i don't love you.
it's true
someguy Oct 21
Oh, fallen angel, why do you weep, why do you cry?
Have you lost your way, have you lost your eyes
Defined by others, you can never get back into skies
Now, being torn down you must forget how to fly
And learn how to walk among these rats in the hellish fires

And if they see you trying to take off the ground,
They’ll tear your wings off and gnaw you to death in an instant count
dedicated to my favourite poet - Charles Baudelaire
someguy Oct 21
O angel’s bliss, fall down from the skies
Slowly swaying down, with a falling leaf like manner of demise,
You will sanctify all that’s left of me to rise,
Grow my wings back to fly and leave behind all my dice
erin Oct 19
she sat by the stake
scorched feathers fell to the ground
and her talons fell
about school.
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