Posts Tagged ‘blue’

8

Posted: November 17, 2014 in Poetry
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An Eye of Blue is like a Dream-

a Sea is that One’s Soul!

A Field Aflame in Eye of Green,

and Brown will calm or enthrall.

 

My eyes are Amalgamations,

a collision of two Souls;

three Colors combat and Glow-

My mind, it always reels.

 

written 22 October, 2014

edited 16 November, 2014

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Ah,

so you’ve entered my dreams again,

not quite uninvited,

but you are not still-

yet- you are not vibrant.

You nod twinkling blue eyes toward me

and I feel my stomach squirm,

and am reduced to a pale worm

under those bright cauldrons.

You are a ghost

of the most high caliber

to invade such a space

where I would normally be well rested.

But when I wake, you’ll be gone,

light that filters red through my curtains

will reveal that. But of course

I’ll revel in you, because

that’s what you’d like me to do,

isn’t it?

You devil.

Wheat Fields Under Cloudy Skies

painting by Vincent van Gogh

Sky with its blue scales
does not daunt
pastoral fields- great pools
of emeralds, celadon-
the flowers at their fringes-
white stars, blood spots-
arcing under the wind.

The land is made of curves.
Clouds wheel in and out
of their own whiteness.
The wind is blurring
the world’s colors.
They are all within one another.

“Each morning when the sun is shining, I look out the window and see how perfectly shaped the clouds are and how bright blue and inviting the sky is, and I fall in love with that morning. But the next day, I wake up and see that the sky is gray, and my heart is broken.
I think that’s why people become so wrapped up within themselves. We’re afraid to fall in love with things we know will break our hearts.”- Original

A letter

that shouldn’t have had

those things

written on it,

those venomous worms

of ink,

wriggling around: friend or

enemy, friend, enemy,

friendenemyfriendenemyfriendenemy.

Of course she had to stick her nose into this.

I can’t complain,

you can’t get away from her…

not yet. She is your mother after all.

A letter that shouldn’t have been sent.

Not with those words…

The song playing in my head

as I write this is

not yours:

“You always hurt

the ones you love,

the ones

you shouldn’t hurt at all…”

I wish you luck from afar.

Not with those words.

I’m not sure we’ll ever speak again…

not with those words.

Not with those words.

My midnight is not black.

It is dark blue–

darkest blue, heart of the ocean.

It enfolds me.

I am robed in this shadowless

cover. We have made a covenant.

This moonless dark blue

holds me like a mother holds her child.

My nostrils prickle with scent of earth.

This is

what only I can perceive.

This sheath of dark water,

solid as air,

I move through it like cloth.

It wraps me,

claims me.

I cannot tell if my eyes are open.

It whispers they’re not.

It doesn’t matter.

Night has taken over me.

Evening Drive

Posted: November 15, 2013 in Poetry
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Out of mind,

God, tell me what it means!

This bullet is speeding me

down a silver path

to a land of neon streams.

Bright, shining reds

perforate my vision

and streak by as burning rivers.

This path stretches and narrows,

it doubles back and widens;

it continues, seemingly infinite,

in either direction.

I sit sweating,

hearing crackles and bumps

and the engine’s monotone catharsis

riddling me to a point

where I lose myself in the lights

that flare and feather quickly

before being replaced.

All as the harrowed sun drops.