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Jose Solis Poem
So close to me there's you, like empty planet
Inviting me, as life to take its place.
My soul is bare and hot like melting granite
Invading you while hard'ning in your space.
Like waves I rise, like rivers I run deep.
Engulfing me like ocean storm you rise.
(May I say this?) I quake that fault you keep
Enslaved to virtue, now it's stable vice.
Taboo? No more. Your orbit's changed, you're free!
Around me you revolve, but it's your choice,
Perhaps because my world by your decree
Hovers only powered by your voice.
Orig'nal's not this sin we gladly share.
Repel two equals should, but join we dare.
Copyright © Jose Solis | Year Posted 2005
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Jose Solis Poem
My son, my son! He will one day put up his arms And shout out, “Play!”
He’ll scribble walls, my young aesthete, bang pots and pans to his own beat.
We’ll hide and seek in show’rs of May, and learn what clouds and stars might say.
He’ll run while stumbling with his feet and singing out his laughter sweet.
I know he’ll grow with every turn. My teachings round his mind he’ll churn.
I pray the good that I’ll instill enhance his power of free will,
And when he leaves he might secern what saves his world or makes it burn.
I hope his life shall then distill some greatness, making life a thrill.
I hope my days will still allow to reach these dreams I hold somehow,
‘Cause now’s the summer of my life and I’ve no child, and lost my wife.
If Fate my dreams does disavow, my art I heighten starting now.
I’ll also try by virtue rife to win my place in afterlife.
Remembered I might never be, most humans try this commonly.
Astounding this we try, agree? To endure like minor deity.
Copyright © Jose Solis | Year Posted 2005
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Jose Solis Poem
Two cats are singing midst the rain,
"Meow, mara, meow!" at the side of the train.
"Shut UP, now!" shouts a man in vain.
"Meow, but it's cold, and I'm wetting my mane!"
"If you are quiet, or restrain
I will fetch you some string; in fact, make it a skein."
"Is not for game that we're now fain."
"Then I'll warm you some cream, if your cries will just wane."
Those words then make the silence reign,
So he leaves and comes back with a dish made in Spain.
He puts the dish on their terrain,
And the cats lap the cream... Then start meowing again!
"What's this, you promised to abstain!"
"We promised to wane not to stop our campaign."
"That was a bad, dirty chicane!"
"Don't you see that it's water that's causing our bane?
Try off'ring something less inane."
"Please, all that noise that is pounding my brain
Will make me soon go quite insane.
Should I turn against you and make use of my cane?"
"Are you threat'ning us with some pain?"
"Unless both at this time of your racket refrain..."
Both cats think that it is quite plain;
They must shush, or then risk ending up with a sprain.
Cats and men will often complain
That they're told to do things that they just can't attain;
But once they're forced, all ascertain
They can do a lot more than they could entertain.
Copyright © Jose Solis | Year Posted 2005
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Jose Solis Poem
The demon entered late one night and boasted he got me.
In bed I cowered filled with fright and hoping he would leave.
"You'll never write again," he said, with dirty awful glee,
"Your course is through, your muse is dead. No fame you shall achieve."
A thousand prayers came to mind but none could I assert.
"Your pleas can't help, for you're assigned, from High, for me to pester."
But why? thought I. The fiend's reply will haunt my days on earth:
"You let your gift too long to dry, it now will reek and fester."
I woke and quaked, my nightmare gone, I thanked it wasn't true,
And running to this desk I've done three days of naught but writing.
One work is good, one sentence bad. I give each word its due,
To keep the beast away I'm glad; I'll give it no inciting.
All gifts are not our own alone. We owe the world our part.
Like Adam back and bone, we hone and sow our grief for art.
Copyright © Jose Solis | Year Posted 2005
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