Sade Olutola
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roma★
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noise dept.
Product Placement
Not today Justin
if i look back, i am lost
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hello vonnie
todays bird
macklin celebrini has autism
Interview Vampire Daily
#extradirty
YOU ARE THE REASON
cherry valley forever
ojovivo
taylor price
Keni
seen from Nepal
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@sanguis-et-anima
"We, half dust, half diety"
˚꩜｡⋆. 𐙚˚ Hi, I'm Sof. This is my poetry + art sideblog!
˚꩜｡⋆. 𐙚˚ I'm 15, based in the UK and bilingual (English + Chinese)
˚꩜｡⋆. 𐙚˚ My favourite poet is Alfred Lord Tennyson but I enjoy all sorts of poetry, especially from the Romantic era.
˚꩜｡⋆. 𐙚˚ My main blog is top secret shh
˚꩜｡⋆. 𐙚˚ Poetry tag: #Sof poems
˚꩜｡⋆. 𐙚˚ Art tag: #Sof art
˚꩜｡⋆. 𐙚˚ Random tag: #Sof talks
꩜｡⋆. 𐙚˚ Masterlist
p.s. url translates to "blood and soul"
i love writing about the people i love <3. its so warm and fuzzy and joyful
Soul Unison
Soul I. Psyche, her wings setting the sun. A purist of unreached perfection, Her soul a gift of her lover, Forever entwined with her beauty.
Oh Psyche, did you ever Cry for the damned? Those whose souls were never gifts, But rather god-given hate?
Unison II. The damned moving in perfection, The purest blood of sinners, Their souls faltering through horror. Down, through glorious suffering.
Oh poor souls, did you Hear the arrogance of beauty? Those who never tasted the thick, metallic wine? Those who are perfect?
-Sofia
Poetry moodboard
Soul Unison
Soul I. Psyche, her wings setting the sun. A purist of unreached perfection, Her soul a gift of her lover, Forever entwined with her beauty.
Oh Psyche, did you ever Cry for the damned? Those whose souls were never gifts, But rather god-given hate?
Unison II. The damned moving in perfection, The purest blood of sinners, Their souls faltering through horror. Down, through glorious suffering.
Oh poor souls, did you Hear the arrogance of beauty? Those who never tasted the thick, metallic wine? Those who are perfect?
-Sofia
Masterlist
˚꩜｡⋆. 𐙚˚ A Fawn and I
˚꩜｡⋆. 𐙚˚ Edgar Degas - A love letter to the budding dancer
˚꩜｡⋆. 𐙚˚ My Night Sky
˚꩜｡⋆. 𐙚˚ Grey
˚꩜｡⋆. 𐙚˚ Ode to a Pair
˚꩜｡⋆. 𐙚˚ Soul Unison
yell at me if this isn't updated
Ode to a Pair
How two rivers who ran parallel for aeons, They converge into a lake. How that lake produces the plumpest lilies, And attract the shiniest fishes.
How two stars who hung separated, They collide in a grand supernova. How that wedding of fire and colour, In turn inspires masterpieces.
How two trees who bear different fruits, They tangle their roots together, How the new fruit produced the next harvest, Was ever sweeter and more succulent.
How two souls who both mirror and contradict Found the other through a red string. How the bond created by you and I, Is ever so unforgettable.
-Sofia (Written for my dear friend @definitelyfrankiero - it's insane how fate brought us together.)
Poem moodboard
Ode to a Pair
How two rivers who ran parallel for aeons, They converge into a lake. How that lake produces the plumpest lilies, And attract the shiniest fishes.
How two stars who hung separated, They collide in a grand supernova. How that wedding of fire and colour, In turn inspires masterpieces.
How two trees who bear different fruits, They tangle their roots together, How the new fruit produced the next harvest, Was ever sweeter and more succulent.
How two souls who both mirror and contradict Found the other through a red string. How the bond created by you and I, Is ever so unforgettable.
-Sofia (Written for my dear friend @definitelyfrankiero - it's insane how fate brought us together.)
Grey
I. Greenery blurs past fogged windows, The carriage rattles in metronomic monotone. My head falls against the seat, As Thom Yorke laments some vague lost love.
II. The endless wandering of those souls, Not dead but not living, A line teetered on when eyelids flutter.
A grey waltz through limbo, As day passes day without punctuation, A fog that spans a once-clear horizon.
-Sofia
(I've been struggling with mental health for a bit and one of the weirdest part of it is this lingering sense of melancholy so i tried to capture it here.)
Poem moodboard
Grey
I. Greenery blurs past fogged windows, The carriage rattles in metronomic monotone. My head falls against the seat, As Thom Yorke laments some vague lost love.
II. The endless wandering of those souls, Not dead but not living, A line teetered on when eyelids flutter.
A grey waltz through limbo, As day passes day without punctuation, A fog that spans a once-clear horizon.
-Sofia
(I've been struggling with mental health for a bit and one of the weirdest part of it is this lingering sense of melancholy so i tried to capture it here.)
settling in my bed with my music ready to read and write poetry for as long as my mind allows
Wind
i. The wind whispers its secrets to us. It screams them out in the howling of a storm, begging and pleading like poor tortured souls, like unpardoned sinners searching for forgiveness, searching and never fining- always just out of their grasp, flying through the tips of their fingers. It’s screaming as it reaches, all the time, it’s screaming out a truth- a harsh, violent truth that we try and ignore, but it won’t let us, uprooting trees and sending its wreck flying through the air- weightless. Free. Empty.
ii. The wind is waht makes us complete. Its power resides in all unruly hearts, in all the restless youth with big feelings and big eyes and dreams of a better tomorrow. It rests in every roar of uproarious laughter , in every sob and in every wail, in all dreams and all our stories. Wind is what fuels the artists. It plucks at strings in its melodies of melancholy and it kisses the hand of every poet and every painter who leaves a stroke of their love behind on paper. It dances above them as the work, passionate and proud as they try to be.
iii. The wind is dangerous. It’s a warning sign to turn back, to reside in the four walls of our homes where the truth can’t reach us and the cold can’t yet freeze our bones and chill our souls. It’s distressing. It tells a story of nothing short of utter tragedy, soaked in pain and in agony. It surrounds us like a blanket in the coldest of nights- it’s suffocating and yet it’s safe. There’s comfort in its hostility. There’s peace within the violence of the sinners cries, screaming out to us, begging for forgiveness. Peace within the haunting sobs of ‘I beseech you, set me free,’, the words that echo through the minds of the restless artists with a pen and idea, and a longing that they can’t place- a longing to be within the wind and become a part of the message of the sinners that is left behind in its howls and wails of warning. A desire to be something more. A yearning to be heard and to be listened to.
when me and twin both write poems based on our conversation 🥹 (although yours is so so pretty) everyone say Alex this is so awesome and cool
My Night Sky
I. Whispers curling through an inky abyss, Enlightening my soul in all its iterations. To Homer they told tantalising tales, To Augustus they imbued prowling power, To Wilde they caressed his sorrowful soul, To me they promise wild wisdom.
Humanity’s souls suspended in an inky abyss, Each burning with forlorn knowledge. They have seen the rise and recess of empires, They have seen the brutal barbarism of men, They have seen the tender touches of love, They have seen the jubilant joy of youth.
II. O you dear constellations, Hung by archaic hands. My mother, companion, and lover at once, Ancient beings, all-seeing, With words only heard in silent solitude.
O my radiant stars, My glittering goddesses. I yearn for your serene faces, Graced with the gentle hands of time, In my years I shall be tapestried alongside you.
-Sofia (Inspired by stars and how they speak to me.)
Poem moodboard
My Night Sky
I. Whispers curling through an inky abyss, Enlightening my soul in all its iterations. To Homer they told tantalising tales, To Augustus they imbued prowling power, To Wilde they caressed his sorrowful soul, To me they promise wild wisdom.
Humanity’s souls suspended in an inky abyss, Each burning with forlorn knowledge. They have seen the rise and recess of empires, They have seen the brutal barbarism of men, They have seen the tender touches of love, They have seen the jubilant joy of youth.
II. O you dear constellations, Hung by archaic hands. My mother, companion, and lover at once, Ancient beings, all-seeing, With words only heard in silent solitude.
O my radiant stars, My glittering goddesses. I yearn for your serene faces, Graced with the gentle hands of time, In my years I shall be tapestried alongside you.
-Sofia (Inspired by stars and how they speak to me.)
Edgar Degas - A love letter to the budding dancer
A tightened muscle gives way, To rigidness giving way to instinct. Wisps of spider-hair crawl over her neck, Whispering sweet praises into her ear.
A stuttering pirouette lands on an elephant’s foot, Boisterous leaps folding into puerile giggling. “Imperfection” loses its unsightly mask, Revealing rosy-cheeked Hebe.
An overturned-out foot, Pointing faultily towards her graceful innocence. Acute elbows lacking the tenderness of her idol, Yet harbouring grace in their unseemly angles.
A plastered smile slipping into a focused grimace, Melting into dogged determination, The string tugging at an extended leg snaps, The fire of beauty burning uncontained.
-Sofia
(I have been a fan of Edgar Degas’ paintings since childhood. I am also a ballet dancer, and I found myself in awe of the simplistic beauty while watching my classmates.)
Poem moodboard
creds: degas paintings + pinterest
should i make a taglist? :)
Edgar Degas - A love letter to the budding dancer
A tightened muscle gives way, To rigidness giving way to instinct. Wisps of spider-hair crawl over her neck, Whispering sweet praises into her ear.
A stuttering pirouette lands on an elephant’s foot, Boisterous leaps folding into puerile giggling. “Imperfection” loses its unsightly mask, Revealing rosy-cheeked Hebe.
An overturned-out foot, Pointing faultily towards her graceful innocence. Acute elbows lacking the tenderness of her idol, Yet harbouring grace in their unseemly angles.
A plastered smile slipping into a focused grimace, Melting into dogged determination, The string tugging at an extended leg snaps, The fire of beauty burning uncontained.
-Sofia
(I have been a fan of Edgar Degas’ paintings since childhood. I am also a ballet dancer, and I found myself in awe of the simplistic beauty while watching my classmates.)
A Fawn and I
A budding fawn raises its head, Fur dotted with innocence just as Our faces are specked with blemishes.
Precarious first steps, Breaking into rhythmic crunches of leaves under-hoof, Hooves like pristine black Oxfords creased with vivacity.
Snout nudging another with wide eyes, Gleaming with the whole universe within, and Speaking of whispered promises and tender proclamations.
Lithe legs fold under its body as fatigue sets in, Curling up next to their warm bodies, Heart full and mind safe within their arms.
Soft, puerile bleating melting Into giggles, laughs, guffaws. -Sofia
(Written for my friends and the joy they bring me. I love you guys. Also recording a particularly sweet aspect of my adolescent experience.)
the energy i was inspired by btw
