Blue* is cold,
Like beauty which falls,  
Called rain.
Like the warm blanket I sleep with,
While they starve.
Blue is the colour writers write about,
When they speak of heartbreaks.
And the colour of the monsters,
Under your bed.
Blue is the red and white of the Americans,
And the Ashoka Chakra of the Indians,
The colour of the eyes of the Germans who lived,
And the colour of the tears of the Jews who lost.
Blue is the skin of the dark hued god you pray to,
And the sky he looks at,
And the sky I look at,
Blue is the fading Sun,
And the sleeping Moon,
The stars in the sky,
Which we wish upon,
Which are already dead,
Like all our dreams.
Blue is the vast ocean we can not cross,
But we have,
With our metal birds......those aren't blue.
Blue is the blood the women bleed,
And the Palestinians in Israel.
And the sleepless children fighting wars.
Blue is free health care,
And overpopulation.
Blue is religion,
And it is death.
Blue is the glazing over your eyes as you read this.
Because *blue...isnt a colour.

Doctor and Mrs Granger
took Mrs Thrift to the zoo
she was captivated by the antics
of the Zambian gnu

Doctor Granger took a photo of her
outside the lion's cage
he instructed Mrs Thrift not to upset
the lion as he'd go into a rampage

Mrs Granger was going to make a cup of tea
for all of them on their return
but she couldn't boil the water
as there was no water for the urn

the electrical pump on the water storage tank
had blown up
so there was no water at the Granger compound
to fill the tea cups

as soon as I heard about the water pump
at the Granger compound
I phoned Major Rogers
to bring his electrical repair kit around

he took a little over an hour and a half
to fix the ailing pump
so we'd be able to have a cup tea
whilst sitting on the tree stumps

next week there will be a recess
from the Granger tale
as the writer is going to take care
of her mountain load of mail

she appreciates the many good reviews
of the Granger series
and thinks that the fans of the said series
are a lovely lot of old dearies

there's code breakers
and there are code breakers
some can read
the code well
whilst others
can't work out
the code's ring of bells

to decipher
the dots and dashes
an expert in the field
has not an ounce of trouble
the sequence reads
to him/her
as clearly as a line
on a graph
yet to the untrained
code breaker
the sequence can be
perplexing
and so confounding
a code takes time
to grasp
and hours
of study

the code of love
is the most difficult
one to read
the telegraph of dots and dashes
have a definite sequence
to how they read
love's code
has baffled
since the dawning
of time
ciphering it doth vex the mind