Sol Y Luna
My soul
is second helpings
of homemade apple pie,
double crust,
dust with sugar in the raw.
It’s cotton-white clouds
in a hurricane’s eye;
chaos,
sipping peace
through paper straws.
It’s
the summer sun sinking,
grieving loss
of golden hours;
reflections of the day
like moon in eve’ —
soaking up the light,
in darkness,
soular power;
dusky dreams
drawing the warmth
with stardust seas.
Soul Stirrings
Stir my soul and mix me up
I’m made of many things
writing on sidewalks
hidden beliefs in my eye
cups of life to savor
Stir my soul and mix me up
made of endings, closed to others
heartbeats lined up in a row
fire without need of matches
sensual breath on naked skin
Stir my soul and mix me up
parts of scars that don’t heal
twigs cut free from my beginning
fragrance of earth, molded into clay
frayed strings of multi-colored thoughts
Stir my soul and mix me up
composed of music inside my spine
slamming doors and exits from life
flashing lights warning keep away
reflections that lie, bent masks of truth
Stir my soul and mix me up
unused time waiting to be filled
blank slate waiting for emotion
patched pieces and worn thread
exposing life holding me together
Stir my soul and mix me up
fill my thirsty soul and rampant dreams
for I’m made in the shape of a bowl
waiting to be filled with uplifting words
soaking my skin, setting past free.
Sparks
My soul is not bitter sweet
It is as rich as they come
Thick and always overwhelmed
Too much for all, not some
My soul is a treasure to behold
It shines light throughout the dark
Wielding my own outstanding affection
Demanding me to abide by my heart
My soul is beautiful in all its ways
Staying steady amongst turbulent seas
So pure despite all scars inflicted
It is the greatest part of me
Compressed Light
In my hands,
I hold a ball of compressed light.
My soul.
It's filled with dried flowers,
potpourri, wafting out.
Delicatly burning embers,
glittery, glistening stars.
It contains my world,
my heart.
blood surging around the outskirts,
keeping me alive,
keeping me warm.
It radiates light,
sunbeams dancing through the gaps in my fingers,
escaping with sudden burst as I try to contain it.
I can't.
My soul leaks out in everything I do.
Everything I am.
Raining down on this world,
like a well-needed storm,
but I am anything but gray.
I'm filled with the colours of the rainbow.
My soul covered in a sun-catcher,
love pouring out in waves,
I ebb and I flow,
sometimes I don't even know,
the powers I hold
inside.
And then I let go.
Letting my soul breathe,
letting it bathe in the universe ,
the universe that is me,
oh-so-wild and free
No I Do Not Die
My soul is made of colors
though some say it shines too bright
others are envious,
to be honest i’m not sure why.
My soul is made of seas
that no sailor did tame
though many did try,
they all drowned beneath the waves.
My soul is made of magic
that keeps me flying high
For I soar on wings like dragons
over all my fearful nights.
My soul is made of many things
though my favorite of all is light
For I may not be strong like iron
but that doesn’t mean that for me
you won’t die.
While I will stay forever
embedded in other minds
Rock Hard
Wurtzite Boron Nitride-This metal is harder than a diamond. This is what my soul is made of. God knew my life would be tough. So, he gave me a soul harder than diamonds that can withstand the harsh circumstances of life. "Shine bright like a Diamond" but I'm hard like Wurtzite Boron Nitride.
Heart of a Pit Bull
She knew it was time. Six months earlier, Emma’s well loved but aged greyhound had withered and eventually died after a long illness. They had been best friends for more than a decade, and Batman’s rheumatic hips and clouded eyes hadn’t taken away his playful spirit. When the vet told Emma that the unusually sluggish behavior was due to advanced cancer, she had cried with her face buried in the dog’s neck until the last breath. Her house had been so lonely without the beautiful dog, and Emma had lovingly packed the bowls and leash in a box in the attic. “I’ll never love another dog,” she told herself. “It hurts too much to lose them.”
The days were lonely without her best friend, and her co-workers had eventually hinted that she might be ready to think about adopting another dog. Emma had demurred. She wasn’t ready. It hurt too much. But now, she knew it was time. As she walked past the shelter on her way home from work, she spied a volunteer walking a grey pitbull who was pulling enthusiastically. She was big - probably 65 pounds, and had a big white spot around her eyes like a mask. The minute she spotted Emma, she locked eyes with her and wagged her tail like they were lost friends, pulling at the leash to say hello. Her ears were big and her face looked like she was laughing. “Slow down,” the young ponytailed volunteer grunted, but she kept pulling, her tongue hanging out and his eyes sparkling with the fun of chasing a new scent.
When Emma approached, she sat, wagging her tail and waiting for her eagerly. “Hi, girl,” she crooned, looking at the volunteer. “Can I pet her?” she asked.
The volunteer shrugged. “Sure,” he said, scrolling on his phone.
Emma let the dog sniff her hand which she enthusiastically did and then licked it. The dog's eyes were huge and brown and when she looked at Emma,it was with complete recognition. “Aren’t you beautiful?” Emma sang to the dog, rubbing first her chin and then giving her a good pat on the head. The dog wriggled with delight, grinning at Emma, her tail batting furiously against the sidewalk. Emma knelt on the ground and the dog licked her face with zeal. “What’s her name?” she asked the volunteer.
“Robin,” he told her. "She seems to like you."
Emma nodded. "I like her, too."
"She's been here a while," the volunteer said. "'Bout six months."