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They asked, Why I was lost in my cerulean reveries?
I said, “perhaps reality aches.”
Ira Desmond Dec 2018
Last night,
I dreamt that the friend of a friend had died.

His body floated lifeless on the surface of the Pacific,
tossed about between the Bering Sea whitecaps

like an orca’s seal-pup plaything
while the Arctic wind whipped

and beat the freezing cold water
across his pallid face and through his chestnut hair.

Then his body
began to sink,

its silhouette appearing
against various monotone

canvases of blue
on its trip downward:

a vivid cornflower,
a pelagic cerulean,

a chasm of cold cobalt,
a starless twilight,

a forest of indigo,
a velvet curtain of navy.

Finally,
as it reached the deepest possible shade of midnight—

only a quantum away from black—
it stopped sinking.

There, in that void,
where daylight and color are considered but outlandish theories,

strange fish of all and shapes and sizes
began to surround the decomposing corpse:

Greenland sharks hailing from the frozen arctic,
mantis shrimp from the mangrove labyrinths,

eyeless electric eels from undersea caves near the Galápagos,
vampire squid rising cautiously up out of their World War One trenches,

scores of spindly ***** and pale worms that had ventured far beyond
the safe familiarity of their alien geothermal worlds.

At first, they approached the corpse gingerly,
nibbling only the tips of its hair and fingernails,

and then suddenly, voraciously,
they consumed it—until not even a skeleton remained.

Now, only a single point of light was left
there floating in the void.

And from this single point of light,
where just a moment before the corpse had floated,

a brilliant white lattice structure emerged,
unfurling as would a fern across a forest floor.

It fanned out onto the seabed
and then swept upward, upward

back toward those reaches of sea
where color is known

and fresh air gleefully permeates
that foamy outer membrane that skirts the base of the sky.

Scores of familiar fish began to lift up the crystalline structure—
schools of shimmering sardines,

stately, dignified manta rays,
skipjacks, bluefins, and white-tips,

brilliant cuttlefish, humble pufferfish,
shifty barracuda, gargantuan whale sharks,

all of them
beating their tails in concert

to carry this lattice away,
this measure of a life,

this husk of a soul
at last freed from its earthly bindings.

The fish were carrying it somewhere deeper,
somewhere darker,

to a place that I understood—
even from the inky depths

of my dreaming mind—
that I could not enter.

But then again,
I knew that someday

I would.
Greg Jones Jun 2018
Love, embrace the healing
Ignore the feelings welling up inside.
The world awaits before your jaded eyes.
Learn the lesson in your reflection
From the aquatic blue.
It’s hard for you not to reminisce how you

Spent your life
Trying to make sure you prevent
Your demise,
Guiding lights will help you realize.

Stare in the big blue yonder
You always wander off inside your mind.
Release the turmoil you hold so dear to you.
Let the cerulean absorb your worries,
Float in tranquility.
The truth you seek is in the twilight.

“I’m afraid to see what waits for me,
I don’t trust myself to believe”

Spend your life
Diving into your escapade.
Ocean night,
Thrive to find what makes you feel alive.
alexa Apr 2018
cerulean. like the crayon, or the Anguillan ocean, or the color of my favorite blue shirt, darker but with flecks of periwinkle too, and kind of a sparkle to them, without trying to be cliche here. 100% the most beautiful eyes i’ve ever seen, and that’s everyone included- it’s not just because i’m in love with him. they brighten when he’s happy, or when i’m happy and he’s looking at me because he knows it takes a lot for me to really truly be happy. and they’re framed by these long blonde lashes that are the sand to the ocean of his eyes and honestly i could go swimming for hours. once when we watched a sunset together the amber rays were reflected so they had a gold tint to them and i really don’t think i’ve ever spent so long explaining the color of someone’s eyes but the only reason i say “red” when people ask me my favorite color is because no one wants to hear me say that my favorite color is his eyes.
inspired by Luna7464, thank you love :)
Payden B Kell Mar 2017
I hate uncooked asparagus.
I hate the color yellow.
I hate reading romance novels and watching couples frolicking on the streets.
I hate clouds and how they hide such a beautiful blue sky.
I hate blonde haired blue eyed boys.
Yet I love you.
I love you, the boy that loves all I hate that is all I hate.
The boy with bleach blonde hair and cerulean blue eyes.
Who eats raw asparagus.
That loves the color yellow.
That loves reading romantic novels at the park just to see the couples frolic.
That loves how the clouds form as if foam over the sea.
That loves me.
Why is it I love someone that loves all I hate.
I hate love .
By Payden B Kell (me)
˝ ˝˝   ˝ ˝˝  ˝ ˝˝˝ ˝˝   ˝ ˝˝   ˝ ˝˝  ˝
˝ ˝˝   ˝ ˝˝   ˝ ˝˝  ˝ ˝˝˝ ˝˝   ˝ ˝˝   ˝ ˝˝  ˝ ˝˝˝

˝ ˝˝ s u m m e r   g r a s s   c a r e s s ˝˝ ˝
˝˝ ˝ ˝˝˝ ˝˝ ˝˝ ˝ ˝ ˝˝˝ ˝˝ ˝ ˝ ˝˝ ˝˝˝ ˝ ˝˝ ˝˝ ˝˝ ˝˝
˝˝ ˝o u r   f i g u r e s   u p   t o   h i g h   j o i n t s˝ ˝˝  

˝˝ ˝˝ ˝˝ ˝ ˝˝ ˝˝˝ ˝˝ ˝ ˝ ˝ ˝˝ ˝ ˝ ˝˝˝˝ ˝˝ ˝˝ ˝ ˝ ˝ ˝˝ ˝ ˝˝
˝ ˝˝˝ ˝˝ w i n d   r e v e a l s   d e e r   p l a c e____/˝ ˝˝ ˝

˝ ˝˝   ˝ ˝˝   ˝ ˝˝  ˝ ˝˝˝ ˝˝   ˝ ˝˝   ˝ ˝˝  ˝ ˝˝˝ ˝˝   ˝ ˝˝   ˝ ˝˝  ˝ ˝˝

˝ ˝˝   ˝ ˝˝   ˝ ˝˝  ˝ ˝˝˝ ˝˝   ˝ ˝˝   ˝ ˝˝  ˝ ˝˝ ˝ ˝˝   ˝ ˝˝   ˝ ˝˝  ˝ ˝˝
/  / / / //  / // / /// //  / // // /// / //  / // /
~
Imagined by
Impeccable Space
Poetic love
~
Wass Apr 2014
Blueberry bluebells
sing, imperceptibly
sighing
against a backdrop of
quiet cerulean.

You know
it is Spring when
their hazy grasses
sprout beautifully
thick in the blades
between the primrose,
and when the sun
infuses shafts
of bronze to the lilac
through the giant
ash's baby
leaves.

— The End —