"solivagant" poems
I appreciate simplicity.
The mediocrity
Of being absorbed in my thoughts.
The life of a solivagant.
It's who I am.
It's all I know.
Do not deem me ill because
You have never sat down and
Explored the dynamics and complexities
Of your being because we are clearly not On the same mental or spiritual calibre.
May 23, 2014
May 23, 2014 at 4:06 PM UTC
adj. wandering alone
She felt the wind rustle her hair
As the falling leaves caught her eye
*He allowed the drizzle to graze his skin
As umbrellas popped up on his sides*
The grass was soft between her toes
As the pebbles were firm beneath his heel
She absorbed the vastness of the land
And he wandered around his city of steel
Leaning back into the tree’s embrace
Her gaze landed on a flower of white and gold
*He listened to the drone of an airplane above them
As he stopped for a while on the side of the road*
She closed her eyes
And allowed the quiet calm her
*Basking in the rush of the metro
His nerves bubbled with adventure*
While she inhaled, she thought of a boy
Whose eyes lit up like street lamps
With a smile that would make it through
The rain that had his clothes soaked and his hair damp
And she wondered if he would
Think of a girl
With flowers in her hair
If he’d take her hand
Look her in the eye and say
Let’s go someplace, anywhere
They’d hike up a mountain
Or weave through the subway
*Maybe visit a museum
Or huddle under a tree on a windy day*
But today she was here and was comfortable
In her field by herself
*And he was calm and content
On the sidewalk with everyone else*
A companion would come one day or another
Right now she was happy to be alone
*As he was thrilled to be among hundreds
Yet still be on his own.*
Oct 1, 2014
Oct 1, 2014 at 9:30 AM UTC
solivagant (adj.) (english) wandering alone
Solivagant Traveler
Lost in a desert where affection is the water
I can't decide if its's been months, or maybe longer,
Since I laid my eyes upon you,
Or the mirage I perceived you to be.
As if you were a cactus who's affection is guarded,
by skin too sharp, and thick to bleed.
Sitting in this plateau surrounded by drier things,
dead plants and dusty bones.
A solivagant traveler is what I'll be.
Nov 17, 2013
Nov 17, 2013 at 6:30 PM UTC
I was convinced that boys- all loose shoes and leather palms- don't care for fragile girls.
The kind that etched lotuses onto weedy waists, lost in the tangle of fine bones and became a brush fire of flowing sentences.
Boys want to drive themselves into flesh and wide hips that swing in circles like a pendulum.
-
See, us fragile girls, we grew thick skin before permanent teeth.
Our skin bubbles with the mind-numbing cocktail of anger and sadness and guilt.
-
Sep 20, 2013
Sep 20, 2013 at 12:02 AM UTC
Just like burnt toast on a Saturday morning,
I am disgusted with myself.
There is no eating,
No thinking,
No breathing,
Without wanting the one thing I can't have.
I no longer want to write--
You can see right through my words,
The passion,
The spirit,
Makes those cowards shy away.
I am the coward.
Do I kick too hard when they can't move,
Or am I being beaten when I'm down?
This see-saw
Takes away my part
Before I can play the role.
You ask me--
"Why do you hate yourself?"
I can never be everything I hoped to be.
Aug 18, 2014
Aug 18, 2014 at 12:26 AM UTC
If I were a solivagant star in space,
I'd link arms with the universe
and have her tell me that
all this pain was worth it,
that something golden would
blossom from it,
maybe then I'd be more focused
on planting seeds instead of
always drowning in the weeds
of my blackened psyche.
I'd burn, explode,
spontaneously combust,
and no one would tell me
that to confirm was all I
had to aspire to,
no one would be around
to make me feel like
too much of a burden,
as if I feel too much too quickly,
too warm, too much, too fiercely.
If I were truly solivagant,
I'd have no reason to cry
when asked "How are you?"
I would not avoid the
ever familiar question
"How was your day?"
Wanderlust would consume me
and I'd search for hidden gold,
space would not cheat me,
would not let me crumble and fold.
My tears would be of use,
they'd fall on clouds as messengers
to rain upon the seeds on earth,
to give life to the breathing dead.
I think I'd love to be
a solivagant star in space,
no magic tricks would be needed,
no quizzes to tell me
that I belong in this place.
Oct 5, 2016
Oct 5, 2016 at 11:09 AM UTC
The chasm is open and I'm drawn to it by burning curiosity. As I enter all breath is taken away and locked inside tight. Like cement filling my chest. Searching for nothing, the paranoia is plain nauseous. Time to accept you are the brick wall blocking paths. Forgotten and fading like I’ve been erased from time. Feeling invisible with the a solivagant state of mind.
Jan 23, 2014
Jan 23, 2014 at 6:11 AM UTC
Is life a story, is life magick dreaming to love?
I gazed up. “Standing below the elephantine magnolia,
the ground still bore Tuscany ochre from autumns last kiss.”
My eyes solivagant orbs fed on spring’s dews in mourning
──jewellery clinging opulently to her naked form.
Dawn chilled the breeze caressing her body as abscission
demanded she undressed her emerald gown of leaves.
Magenta and cream blooms sprang “loudly” seducing
─ blushing mauve crowned centres,
a population of endless figurines perched motionless on aching
naked branches.
Solomon’s seal burned white within me drunk impending suns arrows, opulent words of silver Verbus diablio kissed in a cauldron
of Magnolia words, a banquet for mortals that seek loves gold.
A lone spider echoed silence bearing the sigil of Jupiter’s
vermillion and white spun striations luffing on the breeze
warming. “Magnolia dressed the day ardent in perfumed
── glorious plumes that each set sail across waking skies.”
Ablaze I am luscious dreams wrapped in sweet nectar,
travelling limbic memories breathing deeply, held captive,
wanton within her labyrinths of silk caresses, petals whispering,
sweet love as she engulfs my last resolve.
In raptures white velvet gown my hem sweeps over gold russet
and brittle autumns words forged in winters need for warmth──mind leaves crunching beneath life’s changing seasons,
stitched I cling enamoured to mortal honeymoon summered fields.
I am the female of sapphire tears twisting, glittering melting ice shards, bequeathed of pained black stars travelled on passionate magick fires, breathed on melodious Roma nights.
Rested among the branches a mantel crucified- drunk once more,
a bloom held silent in time weeping, exploding fragrant in a coloured soul, a luffing flower creature to life──crowned
──to sun hope thorns.
©ASPAR (A Sol Poet Arnay Rumens)
Dec 9, 2018
Dec 9, 2018 at 6:17 AM UTC
My wanderlust is for now sustained;
I have a tendency for vagary,
A solivagant nature in my blood.
I hope my last departure is final,
But I have much more adventure in me.
For now, tacenda is my hearts' content.
Aug 31, 2014
Aug 31, 2014 at 1:15 PM UTC
Never trust anyone,
best advice I've ever been given.
But do I listen?
I know I can't trust a soul
but yet around I go,
letting people break down my walls
when they have no intention of helping me
build it back up
if it ever comes crashing down.
I can feel the bricks I let you pick
away from my shield
tumble down
around me now.
It takes my breath away,
with each stone that hits me
bruising my already battered heart.
Now, I am under rubble
stuck under my own broken walls
I built to protect myself
from men like you.
And here I know,
I have to start over.
Am I able to build my wall high enough
to keep out the next one who tries to steal my heart
& heal myself from all the wounds
I've caused myself from letting the wrong ones in?
Aug 21, 2018
Aug 21, 2018 at 2:35 PM UTC
He wears his solivagant demeanor like armor; your battle of love will never scratch his silver plated chest, your swords will never pierce the walls inside his ribcage called, "home" Home is where the heart is and he flatlined a long time ago; broken heart syndrome only has only 11 documented cases of death, but something snapped inside that boy that day and I think about how they never mention that you can die on the inside, too.
He says cigarettes are a way to manipulate time, that sand is just sand if you don't know how much you have left in your hourglass, and I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
You could've called us time travelers, we were making best friends with the moon and the stars as we breathed in the promise of calm, an ashen beach lay beneath us. Sand is just sand, after all.
The confessions of an insomniac, the stream of unfiltered emotion laying open, so vulnerable- how terribly sad it looks in the light.
Dec 14, 2016
Dec 14, 2016 at 10:41 PM UTC
I was a piece more or less,
Unfit in the puzzle of society,
Framed and judged,
Broken and scraped,
Torn to the base.
I stood to be the thinker,
With thoughts as the mate,
As the wife is too a husband,
I kept courting with anxiety,
Maybe sometimes with fear,
Or with shame that world-acclaimed,
As the flaws of being me.
I stood there many times,
Neither to be oriented,
Nor to be included,
Just to be accepted with love,
As a poison is to nectar,
I was the toxin to them
I was discarded and treated,
To purify the viciousness,
An be a part of the deprived fellowship.
I can't stand anymore there,
With the crime of resistance,
To not oblige with the rules,
As a cage is to the bird,
Statutes were the prison,
To my solivagant soul .
Shredded with the conclusions
I was qualified as an outcast,
Neither a human,
Nor a living being
All it was a prolonged-term
As a slave is to the master,
I was chained to the phrase.
To be always smashed,
Under the debts of acceptance.
Jan 15, 2021
Jan 15, 2021 at 3:43 AM UTC
It is not unusual for stars
to love, cosmic attraction
pulling one to another.
In the beginning when the
earth exploded into being
the sun and moon were
born to govern it.
As natural opposites they
avoided one another
sparing no thought whilst
following their own
cosmic paths, solivagant.
Occasionally the moon would
watch the earth and saw how the sun
nourished and brought
joy to its people.
And in turn the sun noted
the moons protective
shade and pitch night
wherein many lovers
stole forbidden kisses.
As the stars courted they
saw each other wholly
for the sun while
nourishing can also be
scorching and deadly, and the moon though many took comfort in its
glow others took it as an
advantage for carrying
out cruel misgivings.
Finally they decided to
meet, a day was chosen
and for a moment they
were as one.
This did not last.
The people below
panicked at this sight
fearing for their lives their
fervent prayers reached
the heavens and so once
more they parted and took
their immortal stations, everlonging.
Jan 13, 2025
Jan 13, 2025 at 8:37 AM UTC
I'm still alive
Just to fly , above the skies.
Don't wanna trapped in this truth and lies .
This world is chained by chains of hate .
Which can e broken by only hope and faith .
I want to wander under this thunder.
In this world of outlandish.
Cause I'm a solivagant
Trap me in this second.
I wanna live this moment
forever.
This beautiful butterfly
Flying under the sky
Give a hope that i can fly .
This magical angelic rain.
Pures the blood in my veins
I can't live in this world smithereened.
Where memories are congeries.
A bus or a train
Take a tour if this world once again.
Cause I'm a solivagant.
Trap me in this second.
I wanna live this moment .
Forever.
Sep 14, 2020
Sep 14, 2020 at 10:38 PM UTC
My heart beats for its last time,
My body breathes its last breath,
My senses perceive what they can for the last time,
And finally,
My soul escapes my body like a prisoner in captivity does.
Now I am free,
Free to be more than just a human trapped within a frail body
But who am I now?
I could be anything,
I could be impossibility in a world of immense possibilities.
I could be the wind beneath the wings of bird,
About to take its first flight,
I could be the first ray of sunlight that hits the Earth,
As dusk breaks into dawn.
I could be anything,
Anything,
As big as the universe itself,
Or as small as the single grain of sand,
On the beach of an undiscovered island.
I could be the brightest star,
On a dark December night,
Or I could be the full moon
That lights the path of the solivagant
I could be the first raindrop
That falls from the sky as monsoon approaches
Or I could be the first snowflake that falls on the peak of a mountain,
Depicting a rough winter ahead.
I am a free soul,
Free to be anything
Free to follow the path,
Contrary to the one paved for me.
Free to take the road that leads,
To immense possibilities.
Jan 11, 2019
Jan 11, 2019 at 6:59 AM UTC
The Universe will not break you
It rubs sweven pain to wake you
For I'm a solivagant in my latibule
Hugging my demons in irenic rule
Humans flash in multi-phosphenes
Supernovas blending into scenes
Fighting until they are consumed
The end is stardust as assumed
Dividing the Ge Earth into stakes
And all is only you that it takes
Strangling their orenda in dismay
Then departing in the Milky Way
∴ Lyna Salman
Jan 6, 2021
Jan 6, 2021 at 6:23 PM UTC
'Cause you ain't here for me
I'll find ways to feel you
In every sunset, and sunrise
In every breath
and smile.
Oct 20, 2020
Oct 20, 2020 at 9:11 AM UTC
....
She always wondered
how it'd be Free
to wander alone
.....
someplace
beckons
far afield
Life;
....
Liberation calls.
gotta go places,
solivagant
Free
without curfew
day or night.
....
Metropolis
Sidewalks
Cafés ....
Cinema
fleeting vistas skyline
through blurred
windshields
Cosmopolitan
dream
Jul 6, 2020
Jul 6, 2020 at 3:56 AM UTC