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Ashvajit Mar 2012
I've never had trouble with blue;
Not the kind of trouble you'ld imagine, anyway.
Blue isn't sticky or hot,
It isn't painful, doesn't get in your way.
It might feel a bit weighty sometimes,
But no more than that.
I suppose if I was a criminal I'd be afraid of blue -
A big criminal, that is,
But being only a very small criminal, and friendly at that,
I find the blue a pretty friendly place.
And if ever I have to do an honest day's work,
Which isn't too often,
Then I find the blue
Is a good place to go afterwards to recover.
You might think that blue is difficult
To get hold of, difficult to see;
But I've never found that.
When I was very small, everything was blue,
Especially other people's eyes.
Where I lived as a boy,
The hills in springtime were covered with blue:
Millions of blue bells
Clothing the hills in glorious raiment,
Filling the woods with paeans of joy.
When I was six my mother took me
Over the hills surrounding our valley,
And suddenly, there, way down over the other side,
Very far below and a long way away,
Was the steel blue sea, vast, enormous, curved, beyond measure,
Echoing the enormity of the pale blue sky above.
There wasn't any lack
Of dark blue either in my childhood:
The night sky was pretty dark blue even though
There were a million stars.
I had no grey hairs when I discovered that blue
Lay in a kind of haze around grave stones;
It descended particularly thickly, like a kind of fog,
When my grandfather died.
Of course I assumed he'd just drifted off in it.
How I wanted to fly off into the blue myself;
But my body being much too heavy
I had to wait for dream-time,
And then there was no holding me back;
I was off into the blue like a shot.
At school, I met blue in the physics lab:
There were big fat blue sparks,
And incredible blues singing out of the spectroscope.
And when I looked through a telescope
There seemed to be an awful lot of dark blue
Between me and the moon,
Which is where I wanted to go.
We had a swimming pool at boarding school
And the water and the bottom and sides of that were blue.
I never had any problems diving into that blue pool,
Even into the end where the blue bottom
Seemed a long rippling way down.
When I got a bit older and began to notice girls,
Things got even bluer.
Especially when girls were around
But even the blue absence of girls was absorbing.
I soon found that all singers sing in blue,
And it all seemed too true.
Blue was the way things were,
The way things had to be.
What wasn't blue wasn't true.
The blue vanished for a while
When my first love showed up,
But I felt so strange without blue
That I brought her a big blue sapphire
Which dangled snugly where I had intended,
Reminding me and her
Where Truth sometimes lay
But not for long.
And when I first spent the night with a girl
I got yet another angle on blue.
When I got married, blue seemed to recede for a bit,
But after a while, blue came looking for me,
As if to say "Where have you been?"
Then I began to look at paintings,
And I noticed a lot of blue in them,
Especially in the Trés Riche Heures
Of the Duc de Berry.
The blue of those paintings
Seemed to be saying something -
Singing of freedom and joy;
This was a blue different
From the blue I'd been used to.
The blue I'd been used to was kind of blue blue;
It started somewhere in your guts
And shone right through you
And everything else, every other colour
Was kind of on top of that -
Less than blue, coming out of blue, returning to blue.
I painted in blue too.
I painted blue mountains, rank on rank,
Growing fainter and fainter into the distance
Until they disappeared into the distant blue sky
Out of which they materialized again.
It seemed to me perfectly obvious
That blue was the basic colour
Especially when one day I went up Mont Blanc
And saw that even rocks and ice and snow were blue.
One day, assisted by metal wings,
I took to the sky;
How wonderful to float in it -
To float in a vastness of pure blue
So vast that it dwarfed the broad earth;
So vast that it outstretched even the mountainous clouds
And the foam flecked blue-green sea.
I went to New Zealand to see
If the blue at the bottom of the world
Was the same as the blue at the top.
It was just the same,
But when they told me there
That I had a blue aura
I began to suspect
That I couldn't be objective about blue.
In any case, the Antipodean lasses
Made me feel as blue as I had ever felt.
Is blue really real, I thought to myself one day
As I ate a bowl full of Psilocybe mushrooms.
Half an hour later my eyes were fixed
On the blue door
And I knew it to be the doorway to Paradise.
I walked through it
And the sky outside was huge, grey-blue,
Crowded with dark blue elephants of heaven.
And standing proudly in the midst of space
Was the perfect arc of a rainbow,
And I knew that my old friend Akshobhya
Was not far away.
Even the car that we drove in was blue -
A rich, dark, velvety blue.
Years later I was in the Orient;
There the sky is a blue
Difficult to imagine
Until you have seen it.
On the island of Ceylon the blue is so blue
It seems to press down on and penetrate everything -
It's irresistible, adamantine blue.
But of course it's subtle too, that Ceylonese blue.
Sometimes it's pale, so pale that you wonder
Whether it's blue at all,
Or whether it's your own mind you're seeing.
But more often it's that rich, luminous, velvety blue
That baffles the eye and baffles the brain:
Where is the blue?
Is it near or far, inside or outside?
Now, in middle age, I have no real difficulty with blue.
My blue has become deeper and more pervasive.
It has filled my head, my lungs and my heart.
Turning towards a picture of the Buddha,
I feel the blue in and around me
Is continuous with the blue in and around Him.
julia Apr 2017
her favorite color is blue
her hair is blonde.
her lips are blue.
so are her fingers.
her nails are silver.
her heart is cold.
it’s winter here.
below freezing at this point.
blue.
the snow is a blue-white,
its untouchable.
cold, to the point where it hurts
she is blue.
she is dead.

blue
blue
blue
blue.
she was pale.
like a ghost.
maybe she was one.
pale.
blue.
she was smiling at me.
her lips were blue.
dark
blue.
her silver fingers
tapped along the
desk.
she had a blue pen.
uncapped, poised to write.
blue ink flowed out;
the pen broke,
ink spilling on her hands.
she didn't mind.
she told me she liked
blue.
she is dead.

she didn’t clean it up.
blue everywhere.
i went over to help her
she didn't know me.
she smiled, her lips blue.
dark
blue.
i smiled back.
i handed her a towel;
she cleaned.
the teacher wasn’t looking.
her hair was long,
cascading.
the ends of it,
blue.
her silver nails touch my
hands in thanks.
i went back to
my seat.
my friend looked at me.
i looked back.
he looked at the blue girl,
towel still in her hands.
he raised an eyebrow at me;
i shake my head.
blue girl stares at her pen,
broken in half,
the insides spilling out,
slowly then all of it gone,
wiped away like
it
wasn’t
there in the first place.
blue still on her mind.

we kissed.
it was after school.
i was standing outside,
and she came up to me.
to say thank you.
for helping her.
she was pretty.
her hair was pretty.
she was pretty.
she smiled,
i smiled back,
she stepped closer,
her blue dress blowing in the
wind.
it was spring
she was
alive.
and breathing.
blue.
i saw lots of blue.
her lips were blue.
dark blue,
and touched mine.
blue on pink,
silver on clear.
she pulled away
first.
smiled at me.
walked away.
blue lipstick on my lips
still.

i liked her.
her blue lips and
silver fingers.
they were part of her.
she was pretty.
my friend slapped me on the back
for getting
a kiss from her.
like it was a competition.
but it wasn’t.
he wouldn’t have been able to
handle her anyways.
she’s her own person,
an enigma of her own.
a didn’t understand
her myself.
she was beautiful.
she was alive.
i didn’t see her again
until the weekend.
she was covered in blue paint
in the paint store.
i needed to repaint
my room.
she offered to help.
she’s in my house,
in my room,
we’re alone
together.
i wonder if
she’ll
kiss me again.

she did kiss me.
when i touched her silver fingers,
she looked at me
and kissed me
again.
i didn’t pull away.
she pressed me
against my
wall,
blue paint on my
back,
on her hands,
in my hair.
i looked at her,
she looked at me.
we kissed again.
her hands on my shoulders,
she was a pretty
blue girl,
in my room.
she was warm.
she liked my name.
i liked hers.
i liked her.
a lot.

it was summer.
she was still
alive,
even prettier.
her hair was still blonde,
still silver.
she got a tan.
she knows me.
i know her.
i love her.
she doesn’t know.
i met her mom,
she’s also blue.
she met my family,
she loves them.
its fall,
her tan is gone,
back to
blue,
dark blue.
she said she loves me
i say i love her,
it’s winter and she is
dead.

i visit her grave,
buy her while flowers and
paint them
blue-dark-blue so
she’ll like
them.
i tell her i love
her,
that I’ll see
her soon.
i buy pink and
white flowers,
paint the white
blue.
pink for me,
blue for her.
she is dead, but
she is still
alive.
and blue.
Claire Walters Jul 2015
Blue is the taste of fresh blueberries
Blue is the sound of an old lady telling a story
Blue is the feeling you get when sad
Blue is the smell of rain
Blue is the sight of a fire
Blue is the feeling of catching a firefly on your finger
Blue is the sight of an old tattoo
Blue is the feeling of water
Blue is the sight of lighting
Blue is the sound of thunder
Blue is the feeling you get when relaxed
Blue is the first sip of alcohol
Blue is the awkward silence between me and you
Blue is the feeling you get when you crash from a long day of work
Blue is the sound of a camera clicking
Blue is the touch of silk clothing
Blue is the color of the sea
Blue is the sight of an eye
Blue is the realization of life
Blue is the remembrance of a dream
Blue is the touch of sand
Blue is the sound of a roar
Blue is the feeling you get when sad
Blue is the calming sensation when relaxed
Blue is the color you get when you close your eyes and look in the sun
Blue is the look of an aged face
Blue is the taste of a sour lemon
Blue is the color of Cookie Monster
Blue is the sound of knuckles cracking
Blue is the feeling of writing
Blue is the sound of relief
Blue is the taste of really good food
Blue is the sound of marbles rolling on a wood floor
Blue is the smell of eraser shavings
Blue is the sight of home when you went away for awhile and
Blue is the time of day when I get to see you
The Good Pussy Nov 2014
.
                                  Blue
                             Collar B lue
                          Collar Bl ue Co
                         Blue  Co l  lar Blu
                          e Collar Bl ue Co
                         Blue  Col lar Bl ue
                         Collar Blue Collar
                         Blue Collar   Blue
                         Collar Blue Collar
                         Blue Collar   Blue
                         Collar Blue Collar
                         Blue Collar   Blue
                         Collar Blue Collar
                         Blue   Collar  Blue
                         Collar Blue Collar
                         Blue  Collar  Blue
                         Collar Blue Collar
                         Blue  Collar  Blue
                         Collar Blue Collar
                         Blue  Collar  Blue
                         Collar Blue Collar
               Blue Collar           Blue Collar
         Blue Collar Blue  Collar Blue Collar
           Blue Collar Blu    e  Collar   Blue
               Blue Collar          Blue Collar
Annika J Jan 2019
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Marshmallow factories
Are covered in goo

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Not all of these
Are going to rhyme

Roses are red
Violets are purple
Whoever wrote that
Was an idiot

Roses are red
Violets are blue
My favorite is Discord
Who used to be Q

Roses are red
Violets are blue
If you count in binary
You'll never have 2

Roses are red
Violets are blue
MEEP

Roses are red
Violets are blue, da ba dee da ba daa...

Roses are black
Violets are black
Everything is black
I'm Batman

Roses are blue
Violets are red
Something is wrong
With my head

The Math section is red
Social Studies is blue
I have too much homework
I want to cry

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Please don't get stuck
In the spilled glue

Roses are purple
Violets are green
I'm just here revving
My limousine

Roses are red
They have thorns
Don't touch them

Roses are red
Violets are blue
I want to turn this
Into a haiku

Roses are crimson
Violets are the fairest blue
And so fair are you

Roses are red
Violets are blue
That was pretty good
For being written on the fly

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Ridiculous Inflatable
Swan Thing

Roses are red
Violets are blue
I need to sleep
No

you are so And
sweet is Sugar
blue are Violets
red are Roses

Roses are red
Violets are blue
There is no try
Do not or do

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Dab on those haters

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Think I'll paint them
On my shoe

Roses are red, dilly dilly
Violets are blue
Is this copyrighted, dilly dilly
I have no clue

Lavender's blue
Lavender's green
I store my sanity
In a canteen

Roses are red
Violets are blue
I'm too cynical
And yet too cheesy

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Spellcheck doesn't know meep?!?

Roses are rosy
Violets are violet
I want to be
A submarine pilot

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Something something
Pikachu

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Illuminati
They're watching you

Gryffindor's red
Ravenclaw's blue
WHY IS IT AN EAGLE
NOT A RAVEN

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Be mine
I'm desperate

Roses are red
Violets are blue
I don't want romance
Stop asking

Roses are red
Violets are blue
I'm running low on ideas
We're almost through

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Sugar is sweet
Don't eat too much

Roses are red
Never mind
Life's too short
Eat all the sugar you can find

Roses are red
Violets are blue
You're still here?
Good job you

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Happy Valentines Day
Bye
Co-written by some of my family members.
Mike Essig Apr 2015
Blue Monday**
BY DIANE WAKOSKI
Blue of the heaps of beads poured into her *******  
and clacking together in her elbows;
blue of the silk
that covers lily-town at night;
blue of her teeth
that bite cold toast
and shatter on the streets;
blue of the dyed flower petals with gold stamens  
hanging like tongues
over the fence of her dress
at the opera/opals clasped under her lips
and the moon breaking over her head a
gush of blood-red lizards.

Blue Monday. Monday at 3:00 and
Monday at 5. Monday at 7:30 and
Monday at 10:00. Monday passed under the rippling  
California fountain. Monday alone
a shark in the cold blue waters.

                     You are dead: wound round like a paisley shawl.  
                     I cannot shake you out of the sheets. Your name  
                     is still wedged in every corner of the sofa.

                     Monday is the first of the week,  
                     and I think of you all week.  
                     I beg Monday not to come  
                     so that I will not think of you  
                     all week.

You paint my body blue. On the balcony
in the softy muddy night, you paint me
with bat wings and the crystal
the crystal  
the crystal
the crystal in your arm cuts away
the night, folds back ebony whale skin  
and my face, the blue of new rifles,  
and my neck, the blue of Egypt,  
and my *******, the blue of sand,  
and my arms, bass-blue,
and my stomach, arsenic;

there is electricity dripping from me like cream;
there is love dripping from me I cannot use—like acacia or  
jacaranda—fallen blue and gold flowers, crushed into the street.

                         Love passed me in a blue business suit
                         and fedora.
                         His glass cane, hollow and filled with
                         sharks and whales ...  
                         He wore black
                         patent leather shoes
                         and had a mustache. His hair was so black
                         it was almost blue.

                         “Love,” I said.
                         “I beg your pardon,” he said.  
                         “Mr. Love,” I said.
                         “I beg your pardon,” he said.

                         So I saw there was no use bothering him on the street

                         Love passed me on the street in a blue  
                         business suit. He was a banker  
                         I could tell.

So blue trains rush by in my sleep.  
Blue herons fly overhead.
Blue paint cracks in my
arteries and sends titanium
floating into my bones.  
Blue liquid pours down
my poisoned throat and blue veins
rip open my breast. Blue daggers tip
and are juggled on my palms.
Blue death lives in my fingernails.

If I could sing one last song
with water bubbling through my lips
I would sing with my throat torn open,
the blue jugular spouting that black shadow pulse,  
and on my lips
I would balance volcanic rock
emptied out of my veins. At last
my children strained out
of my body. At last my blood
solidified and tumbling into the ocean.
It is blue.  
It is blue.  
It is blue.
Maria Mitea Aug 18
I

Once upon a time, on a Monday morning sun,
There was a blue wind in the west Rootabaga Country,
Blowing on a forest road, where the White Horse Girl
And the Blue Wind Boy met, holding space for unfurling
Mysteries, everything happening as it has to happen,

The White Horse Girl and the Blue Wind Boy lived
In the same neighborhood, he told her all about the wind
Of all winds and how to listen to it when parallel roads meet,
And postal mailboxes wait for the time of delivery,
The early morning wind remembered,

It was a cold day, and mud road,
With the blue morning wind being the king of the forest,
Running on lovers hearts like on white horses,
Each holding a song, afraid of turning it on
And listening to it laud, dancing and singing it laud,
So afraid,
Instead, the blue greedy wind took over their feelings,
Wearing winter gloves in September,
Blowing away shoulder stiffness,
Ready to fight with the invisible enemy,
It gave him airs of mystery in disguise,
He loved the early morning wind, and
The White Horse Girl loved him,

II

Morning came, he arrived with his song written and music saved on notes
ready to be shared. I was afraid, and my weak heart send
him back home to drop it off, and I prayed;

“Please, God, please, help him change his mind and not come back.
Look how windy’s outside. This is not a nice day for a romantic walk.
This strong wind has no mercy, It will break my heart.”
That was my first voice, while the second voice took the lead;
“ Oh, God give him the strength not change his mind,
Take everything and everyone out of his way,
Make his steps fast and light, like feathers on the sky,
Bring him back on the white horse,
He is my Blue Wind Boy.
It can be windy, and it can rain hard,  
There won’t be another day.”

The dog barked without thinking,
I opened the back door and walked through the blue wind,
And saw him returning, with a heroic look on his face,
Light steps. “ He is very brave. He is your hero “
My friendly voice whispering, while the scolding one;
“There isn’t any place left for thinking.
You are weak and lost if you let his eyes meet yours.
No one can save you. Don’t rely on your dog. ”

I feel how waves of warmth traveled across my body
Imploring me, ”lift up your gaze from the ground,”
When cold waves shrink my head pushing down
The fighting in my heart, I feel leaning into someone, a wall or a tree,
Forest trees kept looking at me, and moving their branches;
Come, darling, come, come ...

III

It was cold, and wet, on that forest road.
We walked side by side searching carefully
For words that haven’t been invented,
The wind was the king playing with my skirt,
Me, holding it tight, both hands wrapped on my legs,
Urging to stay steel and not listen to what I feel;
Love in disguise luring my heart.
I wished that I had another two pairs of arms,
Holding the blouse when the dramatic king
Pulled out the button. I kept him busy with talking,
About how beautiful it was living in the forest.

Spirits were getting high from walking side by side
Up elephant hill, waiting to swallow our desire.
I showed him my sacred space, where the sun touched my face
When I prayed every day. Lovers were coming in secret at night,
Up elephant hill, and burned the fire of love.
He looked at the remnant ashes “ some lovers met here last night ...”
While I too looked at the aches and answered, “ anything could be possible.”

On the right side wild ducks starting to gossip,
In the little pond frogs quaking, letting us know
They were watching every step and listening to every sound,
“ It is a windy day today, and cold.”
My voice softened while moving deeper inside, hiding behind a somber look.
I invited my dark memories of human pain; help me take down the elation.
Despite all my prayers,

IV

The morning was magic in many ways.
I never felt surrendered by so mush readiness,
The singing of the birds was sharper than the blue wind,
The dances of the leaves cheerleading in the air,
Nature was ready for the spectacle to begin,
It was intimidating; leaves had eyes,
Flowers started talking with each other,
My feelings were greedy like squirrels eating now
And storing for later, for the winter, and any bad weather;
My heart was hungry like a wolf, wishful devouring the prey.

I could feel he was looking at me,
I could hear his long face saying,
“I dream of playing with your hair.”
The wind was getting mad, and fearless.
Like a forest fighter, he was ready to protect the garden
And destroy the misbehaving wind caressing my hair.
He pulled harder those gloves in,  

V

Shortly the rain came putting on us a calm shy breeze,
I was prepared for a rainy day, he was ready for the winter snow,
I feel a boothole, on the left side,
“Boothole” was the word I learned from him,
I was happy when he asked, “ is your foot wet.” So naive,
With every careful step, we take time, holding on every breath
Soon the sun smiled again at the end of the road,
No trees standing on our way, me and he,
Without words waiting on the lips,
With sudden humility soft grass flattened on the ground,
When the earth was running high, and hearts flew into the clouds, he Implored; “Look into my eyes?!” the thunderlight starting
A warm rain walking us back at the house.

VI

Faster steps take us, down the hill daffodils open eyes,
When passing by the little pond, the ducks quacked in disappointment,
“What a waste of time.”
“Come I’ll show you where ducks live, swim,
Make love, and quack all day long”
We entered the bright forest meadow, little pond waiting for us,
Naive delight, he like a thief, wrapped his arms around me,
Stealing a kiss, I run away, he comes, tears come,
The blue wind grows furious and strong,
He pulled out his gloves, we hold hands, tears come
In our eyes, tears fall on his burned hand when a child,
We touch our hands, our hands kissed in the rain,
Our hands kissed in the rain, and the rain kissed back our hands;

He can’t burn twice,
I didn't want to burn,
I knew it's my turn,
I did not want to burn,

“I am cold, Let's go inside the house, I’ll make a tea”
I felt for mundane noise and no more mystery,

We walked quite, and soon entered the house that was waiting
for the two lost kids returning from “where the white horses come from
and where the blue winds begin.” The home was friendly and warm,
embracing the blue morning wind, the song, and the kiss of the two lost kids …

“You have a beautifully clean house, Yes, I do”,
Me holding tight on stainless steel ***,
He leaned his back on the kitchen wood, crossing arms
Ready for an adult conversation,
I busy around as if I can’t find the sugar,
I think, if I poured too much water, I found the honey,
It felt as if boiling took forever,

We sat at the table,
Two cups of tea and the white table cloth looking at me,
Looking at him, taking turns listening to words coming slow,
Carefully not disturbing the shinning floor, me crossing my feet
Under my seat, sitting together, and talking to each other he said;

“That's where the blue winds begin,
It would take years and years to ride them on the blue waters”
She listened and said; “ I See! The white horses also come from far away. So far away, farther than the blue waters and the blue sky.”

VII

Everything happened as it had to happen,
The early morning wind believed and remembered,
Where the White Horse Girl and the Blue Wind Boy met
and lived as neighbors, he told her all about the early morning wind,
and the night sky wind, and the wind of the dusk between,
the wind that asked him questions and told him to wait.

The house walls interrupted the conversation;
“ It is late, he has to go home”
He looked into my eyes and asked, "run away with me."
“It is late, you have to go” our heavy bodies stand up
Slow from the table and the cups implored me to go,  
I opened the back door, the strong wind was taking him,
The door closed fast, I burst into crying squeezing my knees
in tears of despair. I know this morning has no return.
I see it all,

VIII

I received so many messages the day before
The night before, and the morning before,
Even more, signs of delusion appearing at every corner;
The spirits were hiding into the forest,
Sunshine dance and every smiling flower,
Witnessing our first meeting on the blue loonies lake,
Where loons perpetuate their offsprings every new spring.
We were not the only one darling,
Was this nature’s complot or spirits desire
For loons to meet and dance in the blue wind fire
And sing their song of calling love on the blue waters,
Sun shining so bright fooling us into delude,
Despair running on white horses,

I run outside on the forest road, seeing his back and heavy walk slowing
down the blue wind, “I want to go with him where the blue winds begin,
and where the white horses come from.”
The mailbox moves and gives me the letter, I read;

“ To My sweetheart,
You have to wait now for the night sky blue wind, and the blue wind in the dusk, when it is neither night nor day. They will understand. Keep your heart for us while I am gone.With love the Blue Wind Boy”

It's been a while since the White Horse Girl has been waiting for the Night Sky Blue Wind and the blue wind in the dusk to come, ... It came last night
...

(Va Continue)
Inspired from real life and Rootabaga Stories By
Carl Sandburg
The White Horse Girl. and
The Blue Wind Boy.
Saki Wang May 2018
My blue pencil wants me to be blue,
So do my blue folder and blue sweater,
The blue plate that I leave at the kitchen corner,
The blue sky above my blue ceiling.

When I become blue,
The ocean would embrace me,
To be part of the water, one of the blue whales,
A soldier in the raging waves, all reflecting
Blue.

My little goldfish must be happy.
No more boundaries between home
And home: When she sees me,
She sees where she comes from.
She blows little bubbles to make her way,
Out of the blue.

Will you be happy too?
The ink of your blue pen,
The azure of our pillowcases,
The Blue in the Blue Margarita you made for me,
In me.

Will I be happy too,
Wondering why our blueprint is blue,
and why there is blue in the blues I listen to;
Yet blueberries are not the blue I want,
Bluebells never bell blue,
I see blue in your eyes.

Then blue me.
Blue me bluer than the starry night,
Or the Statue of Liberty then you would never
Forget me; Warmer than the blue blood flowing in your weary
Chameleon; Softer than the little blue cheese resting on the corner of
Your mouth; Or gently into lines between the blanks of
A notebook.

Blue me.
VD Lee Feb 2017
Fly high in a blue sky
Fly high in a blue sky

Find light in a beautiful cage,
I fake-smile wide
Staring through the bars,
I stare at a giant blue sky.

I find I'm shackled here
By champagne and ivory lines.
But I wish to fly,
Fly high in a blue sky.

I know that I'll be there
Someday
In some way.

Heaven glows there just for me
I see that it's my destiny!

So take flight,
Tonight,
Into the night.
When the sun comes up,
I'll be in high in a blue sky.

Through the air,
Where it's clear,
And no one's there,
When the sun comes up,
I'll be high in a blue sky.

Stars point in the way I go,
As I steer on a dark drive
Through the window I find
The darkness's almost a blue sky

I find I'm shackled here
By gravity and human life
But I wish to fly,
Fly high in a blue sky.

I know that I'll be there
Someday
I see that it's my destiny!

So take flight,
Tonight,
Into the night.
When the sun comes up,
I'll be in high in a blue sky.

Through the air,
Where it's clear,
And no one's there,
When the sun comes up,
I'll be high in a blue sky.

High in a blue sky,
High in a blue sky,
High up in a blue sky.

So take flight,
Tonight,
Into the night.
When the sun comes up,
I'll be in high in a blue sky.

Through the air,
Where it's clear,
And no one's there,
When the sun comes up,
I'll be high in a blue sky.

High in a blue sky
High in a blue sky
High in a blue sky
Oh yeah

High in a blue sky
High up in a blue sky
High in a blue sky
High up in a blue sky
Zuzu Petal Apr 2014
Blue is for detachment, the lateral, the second thought
The dragonfly’s wing, that blue, the company of a shadow;
The curtain of dusk, the blue of solitude;
The blue of people, their blue hair;
The abandoned blue of loss;
Astute blue, foreseeing who wakes and who sleeps;
The blue of blue jays, one tear of a fallen angel;
The blue of what is forgotten;
Blue of juniper, blue of sky;
The blue of rivers, the blue of fingertips;
The blue of feathers, their glossed barbs;
Poppy seed blue, recently harvested;
The blue of argon, the arm, the path to refuge;
Blue is for hope, a sanctuary, the final word;
The turtle’s back, that blue, the pulse of veins;
Wind chill, the blue of absence;
The blue of trees, their blue branches;
The paralyzing blue of fear.
G Rog Rogers Sep 2017
-Lyrix (BluJazz)

Blue, Blue, I'm so blue for you
Blue so Blue true blue for you

We shared Our life
within a place
of endless love
and wondrous grace
A vow of hearts
Our promise bound
that moment pure
forever found

Finding You

Shadows stole
Our moment pure
the sun arose and surely sure
All was lost when I lost you
I dreamed a dream
and saw you

Brand new

Blue, Blue, I'm true
blue for you
Blue so Blue, are you
true blue too

I searched the Earth
when all was new
Lost my life persuing you
Whispered prayers
to who knows who
Supposing all my prayers
were heard by you

We shared our love
We paid the cost
for those whose cause
was always lost
Angels sang
while they looked on
For crimes of these
Our love forever torn

All was lost
when I lost you
Dreamed a dream
and saw you new
Whispered prayers
to who knows who
Supposing all my prayers
were heard by you

Blue, Blue, I'm true
blue for you
Are you true blue too

I'm blue true blue
for true blue you

I'm blue true blue
for true blue you

-R.

(2.10)
Hlywd
-4MAR
©ASGP
The Good Pussy Jun 2015
.
                                    red
                       ­      yellow blue
                         red yellow blue
                        red yellow blue re
                          yellow blue red
                          yellow blue red
                          yellow blue red
                          yellow blue red
                          yellow blue red
                          yellow blue red    
                          yellow blue red
                          yellow blue red
                          yellow blue red
                          yellow blue red
                          yellow blue red
                 yellow                  blue red
         yellow blue red    yellow blue red
      yellow blue red yel low blue red yello
        blue red yellow        blue red yellow
             blue red                      yellow
Joan Reese Jul 2016
Blue Baby Blue
Blue baby blue,
lift up your head and kiss your troubles adieu!
Blue baby blue,
be happy you grew.
Blue baby blue,
bury the dead; they were only passing through.
Eyes wide-open, view everything anew.
Blue baby blue,
spin around, and shout, "yes, I love you!"
Blue baby blue,
dance around in gold sequins on silk venetian red.
Blue baby blue,
how unique are you?!
Forget people who never knew.
Blue baby blue,
Blue baby blue,
no more singing the blues!
Roses are red Violets are blue.
Nothing in this crazy world could keep me from loving you.
Roses are red Violets are blue, the sun shows this good looks, but true good looks is in you. Roses are red violets are blue, I've never met anyone as hot as you! It make me think chilli is hot and so are you!
Roses are red violets are blue, I never knew love until I found you!

Roses are red Violets are blue. My life would be HELL! If I didn’t have you in my arms.
Roses are red violets are blue, I'm the one who'll make all your dreams come true! Cause you are making all my dreams come true too!

Roses are red violets are blue, Sugar is sweet and so are you! Roses are red violets are blue, I feel so lost without you in my mind and soul! Roses are red violets are blue. Don’t cast me away cause “I love you!” But I know you will not cast me away ways. Roses are red violets are blue, These lips can't wait to kiss you again and again!

Roses are red violets are blue. I love you and finally this is so true!! Roses are red violets are blue, I'd do anything to be with you!
Roses are red violets are blue, I'd rather be spending my time with you! Roses are red violets are blue, I ain't never gonna love no-one more than you! Roses are red violets are blue, My heart is badly broken without you!
Roses are red violets are blue, I love you for everything you do!

Roses are red violets are blue, lets shear this day together, and sing and scream YAAAY!! Roses are red violets are blue. I just can’t stop keep myself from thinking of you.

AND!!
Roses are red violets are blue, I don't want no-one if I can't have you!
Roses are red violets are blue, there's only one-way to say this, but “I LOVE YOU!”

Cause Roses are red violets are blue!
AND

I will be by your side until my heart is black and blue!!
apathy Nov 2014
maybe, i don't fit in
maybe i don't belong
this place hasn't been right for me
since everything went wrong

i walk, the lonely streets
i search for something deep inside of me
but i find nothing,
nothing but blue

i feel blue
always, forever blue
the days are lonely,
the nights are cold
but i will always be blue

as i walk along the busy streets
and the lights of this city
i begin to think, its not worth it
i dont matter, not one bit

i walk, the lonely streets
i search for something deep inside of me
but i find nothing,
nothing but blue

i feel blue
always, forever blue
the days are lonely,
the nights are cold
but i will always be blue

when did it begin?
when does it end?
when will i be happy again?
always blue
forever sad
i am nothing

i feel blue
always, forever blue
the days are lonely,
the nights are cold
but i will always be blue

i feel blue
always, forever blue
the days are lonely,
the nights are cold
but i will always be blue

im just blue
never happy
never smiling
just blue,
so blue
only blue
i am very blue
Courtney Nov 2012
My sky is blue
Broken-china-blue
Today

Not as yours or his or anyone’s
Not robin’s egg happy-hue
Or hopeful cornflower-color
Not rolling-ocean-peace
No endless expanse
Over a world full of possibility

But my sky is blue
Crying-eye- blue
Today

I don’t remember
The exact color of the car
That took you away
But in my mind’s eye
It should be this blue
My blue

Because my sky was blue
Teardrop-truth-blue
That day

Such a contrived color,
Overused metaphor:
Sad-blue, dead-blue
Burning-blue-gray like my hate
For all the words
We’ll never share
For desperation
For lost beginnings
Estranged from happy endings
And foregone conclusions
And decisions made
By a woman whose pasty face
Is still burned as

A blue-print in my mind
Of the person I
Never want to become

The woman who
Unknowingly
Painted my world
In red-fury and
Burnt-orange-bitter goodbyes
Thoughtless paintbrush
Strokes making sure

That my sky was blue
Crisp-autumn-cloudless blue
That day

When you and I
Were both too young
For understanding
Just
Children caught up
In the real world
For the first time

Yes, my sky is blue
Snapdragon-fire-blue
Today

When seven years later
I think I’m
Still not old enough
To comprehend

Why my sky is blue
Bittersweet-baby-blue
Today

Because they
Took you away
Because you’ll never
Know my name

Even though I’ll
Remember yours
For the rest of my life
©2012 Courtney Perry
Robin Carretti Jun 2018
Why the blue
face many reasons over
that chip?
It hurts how long do I have?
No other color to think about
All of the chewing excursions
Blue chip muncher seasons

The summer high-priced
The liaison scoop hot
Her lips dipsy
The different vibe
crispy
That one chip trend all depends
What star shape chip demand
Bow Wow parade
Dressed like
the blue tinted car
chip
  Did you feel the vibe?
Not just any tribe
let's all describe

Blue chip paired
subscription just chew on

Each lip part of
you I liked
Don't block my
chips confidentially

The party consequently
Went chip disappearing
That salsa tortilla chips
What a coincidence
Someone kissed and chewed
her and went pew ugh
Hallelujah honeydew
BMW Chips sigh
So salty talk beamer
Blue chips ahoy to me
Blue sky Sailors high
Drinking blueberry
coffee why?

Sticker Blue Church
group
Don't break the chip
promise
Don't cheat
My lips need and want
someone to kiss
The advertisement
B-Blue C-Clue
K-Kisses **** fishes
Not the Black/Blue
The kickboxing
Chips made the
centerfold
with his boxers
Blue chip tailgating
Debating those keypunches

Venting out with her chip
What was in those chips?
They were
both running
for their lives
Where are our wifes

Terra Cotta, she
dressed Ms. Senorita

Doing Hawaii
hula hoops
kiss motives crunchy
The competition
dipped Men grumpy
The Sienna smile eating
The garden of
  (Eat-In)  

The Gulf of Mexico
Doing the Salsa
*
Ms. Eden
One chip was lip
depended
The French kiss
Sleeping beauty
ballerina
No-one really
didn't know
what to do
The back-back
neck kiss

The Robin bird
Changed Blue-breasted
Lower Lip arrested
He's the
sucker for
her  Blue chips
_
*
Why did the
corn yellow he became
  The blue ***** Jazzy
She's eating chips in
the sunray just chill
They were rubbing
their nose taking in
**** color lips
Simply kissed
balanced

So Co-depended
Or so lip offended
By one best collection
chip
French kiss
the plea is the
kiss of the sea
She is his kiss
Or press the
kiss with his
Blue chip to be his
he is the key

Bed and bite chip
  all new
breakfast tip
Read someones
lip demeanor
regardless so
it's minor
Only the blue-chip
was happening to you
To the very end of
your lip

So cleaned up vacuum kiss
Skinny diet dipping not
over my lip
So chipper I will
meet my Skipper

(Apple Dip) New Yorker
He's the blue-chip tipper
computer chips

Blue chip kisses
It was the biggest
turnover, come over
The Apple jubilee
blue chip kisses
To be called the
lip-sucker Please ladies
calm down
Take one chip

((The Addiction))
Of her garden
of earth, blue-chip birth
This is a take-off on Blue chips how chips and lips became closer to react. Not everyone would agree but this is a poem and it's on me it's a comedy get your blueberry coffee I hope you are wearing your blue face today or something blue please not borrowed
in a dark of frenzy it boils up inside
until summarily and inexplicably
see the colour between brown and blue
more than see it, immerse myself in it
swimming slowly in its clouds
see the colour between brown and blue
everywhere votive candles light
the colour between brown and blue
with slender tapers that touch a life
any life, your life
casting strange shadows, loose shadows
between the colour of brown and blue
children swarm, children with bright white
starvation hair, children with hands
like small worn mittens
who raise red swarms in hot worn out
death laden dust
dust that cauterizes the nostrils
with the stench of penurious insanity
the colour between brown and blue
that inveigles a purchase of flies
bottle blue, black blue, green blue,
swarming blue, swirling whirling blue
a black and blue confetti of flies
then the sudden zero of the
colour between brown and blue
hair raising, command faith
willed, willing, mumbling, murmuring
the excitement of writing between
the colour of brown and blue
trees shake and tremble
words regurgitate themselves like hot
food, the bark, write
now fully electrically charged
seized by the colour between brown and blue
forget everything else, write, write more, more, write
trembling with sudden shudders of merciless
vowels, madness penurious pencil
moves across, demanding paper
pushing worn words, worthy words whittled by use
words not yet written, words of wonder
oh what words
beautiful, baffling,baleful, words
with beastly beatitudes, words that conjure the mind
words between brown and blue
that leave you skinny like a stray dog
words so demanding leave you shut up in an
airless abattoir of high energy and low residue
the colour between brown and blue
where everywhere is everywhere else
touched by the flames of the colour between brown and blue
She worked in the market
She sold flowers and jewellery
but, nobody there knew her name

With fifty young vendors
Of flowers and jewellery
Each teenaged young girl looked the same

No one remembered the smiling blue eyes
The child like lilt to her voice
No one remembered the smiling blue  eyes
Or the way that she blushed for the boys
No one remembered the smiling blue eyes
They all could be one and the same
No one remembered the smiling blue  eyes
or her hair, or her smile or her name

She was hitch hiking home
From the market one night
A car pulled on up for a ride

He told her he'd take her
If she needed a lift
It was cold,  so the girl  got inside

No one remembered the smiling blue eyes
The child like lilt to her voice
No one remembered the smiling blue  eyes
Or the way that she blushed for the boys
No one remembered the smiling blue eyes
They all could be one and the same
No one remembered the smiling blue  eyes
or her hair, or her smile or her name


No one has seen her
She's been gone for three days
She never arrived at her home

Nobody saw him
All cars look the same
And besides he was travelling alone

No one remembered the smiling blue eyes
The child like lilt to her voice
No one remembered the smiling blue  eyes
Or the way that she blushed for the boys
No one remembered the smiling blue eyes
They all could be one and the same
No one remembered the smiling blue  eyes
or her hair, or her smile or her name


The market still bustles
With sellers of flowers
Where everyone looks, shops or buys

But, something is missing
A young girl is gone
The girl with the smiling blue eyes

No one remembered the smiling blue eyes
The child like lilt to her voice
No one remembered the smiling blue  eyes
Or the way that she blushed for the boys
No one remembered the smiling blue eyes
They all could be one and the same
No one remembered the smiling blue  eyes
or her hair, or her smile or her name
muteD Apr 2019
you
remind me of the
blues.
each different shade
of blue
equals you.
each of your tones
resonates truth.
that is true
and oh so true
the way I feel for you.
tranquil like blue,
a lake of blue.
the way I always feel
around you
almost like a
sky blue.
a blue
that is just
enough blue
to make you
move groovy
like the Blues.
you
make me
feel blue
without being
blue,
like a navy blue.
a blue that has blue
on top of its’ blue.
a blue times blue times blue,
that’s you
and it’s crazy
because
i only feel things
because of you.
together
me and you,
a perfect image
of solitude.
and you are
solid
too.
real is you.
no camouflage
or ruse.
just you.
like you are
one of the deepest blues.
you make me feel deep
like some negative
2’s.
I’d happily dive into you
like an ocean blue.
constantly evolving into
different blues
that’s you
(always you).
you are my Blue
and blue is you.
this goes out to my best friend, my boo. thank you for being you.
writing this poem was honestly really fun to me because this isn’t my normal style and adventuring out like this was kinda an addictive feeling.
gray ivan May 2018
you were the colour blue
touched with your cold hands
i was helpless
hopelessly addicted to the sunset skies and the deep ocean fish
that you said you held dear
you loved the colour blue
the forget-me-nots and the summertime beach trips
the slight blue of the night skies with the blue-tinted stars cresting the event horizon
i saw black and white
but you, to you i saw blue
too much blue
all around us was blue
but you made me see the blues of your eyes and the rusted signs in your backyard
not the blue of the gaze behind my back or the dark, dark blue of the water in my lungs you had so skillfully breathed into me
the blue that kept me at arms-length to you
surrounding your hummingbird heart
my chick-a-see heart was drowned, trying to reach you
i loved the colour blue when i was with you
but you put it all on me
and decided it didn’t suit me
so you took it back
and i saw the blue of the bruises on my chest
the blue of the ocean of unrest you gifted me
the blue blinding of my brothers and sisters
the blue of their wary
the blue of my weary
the blue of my hands and my heart, the only blue i had left
i see in black and white
and you couldn’t make me see otherwise
Rayven Rae Aug 2018
(what blue tells “it’s a girl”)
(part 1)

emerging into the world under the banner
“it’s a girl!”
comes wrapped in nothing but pink
expectations

born pink
helium-filled mylar screams
branding new life from first breath
softness bubble-gum wrapped
cotton candy kissed
baby girl be soft

soft
soft pink
powder-puffed bunnies hide
power-puffed intentions that scream
pink for the taking
precious commodity
but only so long as the soft pink remains
intact
soft pink words rounded
nothing sharp for a baby born
without the blue
pink words saccharine-infused with sweetness
to be planted deep within
tiny bones to replace marrow
marrow meant to sustain a life
but pink
soft pink marrow
makes for a prettier picture
nobody likes a girl that’s jagged when you touch her
it’s a mortal sin to make a man bleed
red is not pink
be gentle


gentle
gentle girl
sit pretty sit silent
swallow down your voice
only open your mouth to make
pink butterflies cascade beauty
spit out only ribboned wings
floating rose-colored feathers
bubble-words all dull edges and placations
make sure those feathers land on the deserving
the deserving being those
born blue
fill the blue with your blush tones
enough to inflate egos
but not enough to touch the cyan
too much pink and blue runs
too much pink and blue changes
into a lilac sunset
blue needs to stay hard
reign in your pink
know when to retreat
know when to only
be seen

seen
seen girl
not heard
find the balance trapped
within the pink
the world expects you to be seen
swizzle sticks and cinnamon hearts
arm candy dress up the pink
you are a bloom-rose candy store that is always open
everything has a price but why pay
when it’s just pink for the taking?
show us the pink
body parts enhanced by slashes of color
not too bold but beautiful
always tasteful to be seen
full lips to spill
carmine kisses
blooming with promise
promises fulfilled on both knees
what pink wants doesn’t matter
when it comes to blue
soft pink skin slick sneaky peak
show some of that wet flesh
flush flash some of that pink
be seen girl
when being born pink
should have come screaming with a warning
caution tape wrapped tight
sealing up flushed flesh flashing pink
what’s wrong girl?
be warm

warm
warm girl
be pink pearl nail polish
strawberry lip gloss leave kisses
warm breath in all the right places
make blue melt in ways
that won’t mix with your pink
warm mouths can work magic
bubble-gum tongue lick ****
strawberry ice cream cones dripping
pink sugar running down sun-burned arms
fuchsia cloth triangles held only tight enough
to cover the pinkest places
laughter filled with light
smoky mauve curls let warm wash
soft edges over hard
but even when surrounded by roses
blue has sharper thorns
bleed
bleed warm girl
bleed crimson-tinted tear drops
with only a hint of salt
sugar and spice but mostly sugar
they will bottle it up to sell as a gift
this marrow-tinted hydrosol distilled
down to it’s purest form
liquid pink scented water stolen
more precious than perfume pressed by monks
deep within spanish caves
the monks at least have compassion
at least they ask the roses for their bodies and blood
blue just takes
they don’t call it “royal blue” for nothing
cobalt fists rain relentless
ribboned words and cloud-wrapped capes
are no match for their fury
be small

small
small girl
you are so fragile
from the moment you enter this world
swaddled in it’s a girl
swaddled in everything but blue
don’t want to be mistaken as a boy
not even right out of the womb
pink brings warmth and comfort
blue is a cool color
it bleeds lost gentleness from first breath
pink is never cool
be small even as you grow
fold into yourself to shift shape
break bones to leak out
soft marrow bubble words meant to appease
“yes” is always your best bet
when it comes to blue
blue can’t hear “no” coming from
a pink mouth
the frequency too high
vocal vibrations far out of blue’s hearing
those spoken syllables mean nothing coming from a mouth
good for only one thing
stay small
keep it tight and trim
just because you are a candy story
strawberry daiquiri lollipop curves
doesn’t mean you have to eat
like you live in one
keep it cherry girl
petite pufflette gummy bites
just waiting to be devoured
by hungry blue mouths
sweet little nothings
a paradise punch buffet
where pink is the only dish served
climb into the box
blue lays before you
squeeze yourself into that molded cage
it doesn’t matter how badly it hurts
it doesn’t matter that everything pink in you is screaming
for release
it doesn’t matter that you’re screaming at all

after all
you were just
born pink
This is the first piece on a series that I'm working on called "The Pink Chronicles".  More to come....hope you enjoy or at least, it makes you think.
Axle Avatari May 2016
8/26/1991

Oh baby,
Look what I've got,
Cold steel blue eyes.
They're burnin' hot,
Cold steel blue eyes.
Like fire an' ice.
But it's not too nice,
To have,
Cold steel blue eyes.

Baby,
Help me,
Take the knife,
Out of the stare,
Of these,
Cold steel blue eyes.
Baby,
Please,
Give my life,
Something,
For which to care.
In these,
Cold steel blue eyes.

Baby,
Can you,
Stop these,
Cold steel blue eyes,
From seeing only,
Gray?
Oh baby,
Please,
Take these,
Cold steel blue eyes,
Away.

Baby,
Can you,
Make these,
Cold steel blue eyes,
See without harm?
Oh baby,
Can you,
Give these,
Cold steel blue eyes,
The calm,
In the eye,
Of the storm?

Baby,
Can you,
Make these,
Cold steel blue eyes,
Warm again?
Oh baby,
Please,
Take the pain,
Out of these,
Cold steel blue eyes.

Baby,
Help me,
See the light,
Through these,
Cold steel blue eyes.
Baby,
Can you,
Please,
Make these,
Cold steel blue eyes,
Bright?

Oh baby,
Look what I've got.
Cold steel blue eyes.
They're burnin' hot,
Cold steel blue eyes.
Like fire an' ice.

But it's not too nice,
To have,
Cold steel blue eyes,
No surprise,
To me.
I have,
Cold steel blue eyes,
You see.
RAJ NANDY Jun 2017
Dear Poet Friends, this poem was composed as a tribute and praise
to the Creator of heaven and earth way back in the year 2008, & was posted on ‘Poemhunter.com’. The Creator’s handiwork has inspired Poets, Artists, and Humans alike since the dawn of our
civilisation, and shall continue to do so for our future generations! Hope you like this poetic composition. I will be grateful if you comment only after having read the entire poem.  Thanks, - Raj

VISIONS OF THE VAST BLUE EMPYREAN
                * BY RAJ NANDY*

       '’The heavens declare the glory of the Lord,
        The sky proclaim His divine handiwork!’’
                                                   - Psalm of David.

(I)
The SKY is a multidimensional manifestation of God's
creation,
A translucent blue canopy above all and one.
The sky has inspired humans for centuries to aspire
and dream, -
To seek His blessings and guidance from above;
And shall continue to do so for centuries to come!
The sky beckons and lures with its mystical spell;
Making humans with leaping aspirations to try out
and reach, -
Those frontiers where the sky is the unlimited limit of
all our hopes, aspirations and dreams!
The sky, lush, luring, luminous, and sweet, -
Invites, entice, and fills us with a sense of wonder!
How God-like in appearance, and almost human in
its expressions!
The sky has remained as a silent witness to the birth
of our planet,
Since God created the firmament and the heavens,
before creating the Earth.
The sky, a silent spectator since eons past,
Shall continue to see the fading away of old stars;
And formation of baby galaxies in a cosmic drama of
His creation,
Lying beyond the comprehension of Mankind!
While we try to delve His secrets with our space probes,
Which we can neither fully comprehend nor unravel;
And shall only continue to wonder and marvel!

(II)
The blue sky continues to inspire and even melts,
While its blue translucence silently seep into the
Poet's heart,
As he sits to reflect and shape his thoughts,
And the vast expanse of the ethereal sky,
Stretching his mind with future dreams and
visions!
While the azure blue begins to flow through his
veins, and gets transmitted through his pen, -
To convey his exalted thoughts and deepest feelings,
in poetic lines and verse, -
Which becomes the Poet's sole mission.
And at night when the Poet meditates, he catches a
falling star,
And writes a poem on it and keeps it in his pocket, -
Saving it for a rainy day!
And during the silence of the night, when the hours
grow dark and deep,
And the sky gently droops and drips;
The poet wakes up to write, and writes to sleep!

(III)
The sky flows on to the canvas of the Painter,
As he tries to depict its varied complexions and moods,
With his limited colours, shades and hues,
Flashing and spilling his canvas with touches of tints
and tones,
To captivate the capricious, transient and fanciful moods,
which the sky adorns!
The deep blue empyrean is at times blissful and sublime,
Changing from a radiant, opulent, and iridescent, -
To threatening, cruel, and violent;
Both devastating and destructive as the sweeping
tornado or a hurricane!
Yet when God decides to paint the Aurora Borealis those
magical Northern Lights, -
Those glowing diaphanous curtains of waving, swirling
streamers of lights,
With its red, green, blue, violet, and luminescent spell-
binding shades;
How can any artist foolishly dare to compete or replicate
His celestial art?
For the Auroras are a reflection of His live real time
handiwork, -
Which shall never diminish or fade!

(IV)
The crystal blue arch of heaven, a glorious canopy
cover over our head,
Blesses us with the much needed shade;
From the tormenting and scorching rays of the
relentless Summer's sun.
With its varying layers of passing clouds, -
As the sun completes its diurnal rounds!
Those high cheerful cirrus and cirro-stratus clouds
of the Winter sky,
The meditating alto-cumulus and alto-stratus clouds
of medium heights;
And those upward swelling, ambitious clouds of
cumulonimbus, -
Carrying the thunder bolts and lightning of the great
Zeus do confound us!
And finally those low sheets of stratus clouds of the
rumbling monsoon sky;
Bringing incessant rain and lightning darts, -
Flashing like a whip lash across the sky and the earth!
With the speed of sound always lagging behind that
of light, -
Thus thunder bolts always follow those blinding flashing
darts of dazzling blue lights!
While the good Earth absorbs it all like some suffering
soul,
And forever regenerates itself to transcend its
tormenting plight!

(V)
The clouds floating like fluffy wool of cotton and
the downs of white goose feathers,
Adds dimensions, visual depth, definition and a sense
of perception;
For the human mind to behold and meditate, -
Those vast measureless depths of the infinite space!
The clouds with its varying forms and shapes,
At times like the ice cream cones with vanilla
tops and wisps of cream;
Keep floating across the cerulean blue, forming
and melting, -
From one nothingness into another,  below the
arched vault of the heavens!
And at times the clouds coalesce to dissipate as
gentle rain,
With rhythmic beats, or follow some wild musical note,
Lashing against the earth like a dancer in trance!
While it brings down the cool aqua, the very elixir of
life to earth.

(VI)
The sky is held captive by its own void of eternal
silence.
As nature's mirror, it reflects and also shows us a
glimpse of the infinite!
While the night sky by itself exhibits a wondrous
sight,
With the sentinel stars shining like a living hymn
written in light!
And the ebony treasure vault of heavens hold the
sparkling and glittering countless gems;
Of pearls of lily white, rubies with red sheen,
And galaxies shimmering like hyacinth of purple
light!
The sky envelopes the earth all around in an elusive
embrace of unconsummated love!
But each night, in hope and expectations the Sky
adorns itself, -
With diamond necklace and pearls of milky white,
Woven round its dark black flowing stresses;
Casting longing looks towards the beloved Earth,
To whom she is attracted from her very birth!

(VII)
The sky despite its wide range of colourful
spectrum and moods,
Forever retains its pristine colour of azure blue,
behind its gray and somber clouds.
Each morning the sky presents us with a clean
blue slate,
Where nothing ever remains written or etched!
Inspiring humans to make a new beginning,
Before time runs out and it becomes too late!
Yet the sky never forgets to reflect the arched
rainbow over its brow,
Once the thunder clouds and storms dissipate!
Keeping our hopes and aspirations forever alive;
And impelling us to strive in all our endeavours
and to excel!

(VIII)
The sky remains as a revelation of God's immaculate
handiwork.
The blue welkin, God's treasure trove, with its
capricious moods,
Sometimes furious, sometimes iridescent, but by nature
divinely sublime!
The sky a recurrence of happenings, with its speckled dance, -
Of colours, cadence, and of light and shade,
Giving us a taste, smell and feel of eternity, -
Which appears as real, though illusory and ephemeral!
Transcending all our scientific formulas, speculations
and intricate *******-up logic;
Since many mystical and unknown energy forms exist in
our sky and space,
Beyond the realms of Quantum Physics , String Theory,
the Higgs Field and Relativity!  * ( see Notes below)
And forces can even be made to emanate from the human
mind and soul and to transcend, -
To blend with those vibrations in the celestial spheres of
the Divine!

(IX)
The sky shall forever remain a source of exhilaration
and exhortation for mankind, -
And as an exaltation of God's divine and lofty thoughts!
The sky also remains as our ultimate frontier, -
Stretching the dimensions of human consciousness,
Till our consciousness learns to merge with the Divine;
To become one and to blend, under the blue vault of
our blissful Empyrean!
                                                       -  by RAJ NANDY, NEW DELHI

(*NOTES: The five different versions of the String Theories know as the 'The M- Theory' of Quantum Physics, which tries to explain the origin of all things through the vibrations of nano strings. The latest discovery of the Higgs Field, which is said to add mass to subatomic particles; are our humble and insufficient efforts to understand God’s mysterious creation of the universe and space!)
      (ALL COPY RIGHT ARE WITH THE AUTHOR ONLY)
Jackeline Chacon Aug 2014
Blue is the deepness of the oceans
Blue is the frailness in emotions

Blue is the touch of winters cold air
Blue are the colors I like to wear

Blue are my secrets locked away
Blue are the melodies of a rainy day

Blue is the color of the mellow skies
Blue is the sadness in my eyes

Blue is the soul of what is dead
Blue are the memories in my head

Blue are the damages left in my heart
Blue are the beauties of what I call art

Blue is the spirit of all my vitality
Blue is the look of my personality

Blue is my life and all that I love
Blue is all I'm made out of
Nesma Aug 2017
I suffer from/am blessed with synesthesia, I smell, taste, and feel color. Blue has always been vital to my being, whether it is the color of pajama sets and bed sheets, or speech bubbles on Facebook Messenger, I have grown too attached to blue that the blank whiteness of this document loses its neutrality and starts to hurt.

They say blue is a cold color, then they associate it with a feeling so strong that it has the same symptoms of a heart attack, they turn it into a synonym for heartbreak, and make it the sponsoring color of music meant for heartaches. I associate blue with hearts because I have a list of life elements and they are all blue: writing ink, oceans water, night skies, and I recently added to that list the sanctuary I made of your-my conversation. It is 3:57 pm and I am having the blues, listening to blues, thinking of blues. It is 3:58 pm and my body is burning, no amount of tears my eyes shed can cool me down so no amount of colorologists can convince me that blue is a cold color.

Two months ago, I discovered that the poor human eye was not able to distinguish between green and blue until recently, the poor human mind could not read blue, and I wonder if that means we only recently started to know grief.

I have grown too attached to blue but they opted for green in traffic lights. They preferred green to blue when it takes blue to make green; Blue is the parent. They favored green over blue when blue is the third primary color and the other two family members, feisty red and powerful yellow, are already present in traffic lights; Blue is the parent that never came home. Green stands for progress. Green is a sacred color in Islam. Green is the color of every “environmentally-friendly” label when mother earth is more blue than green, and I wonder if that means this planet has seen more grief than peace.
Micheal Bevan Jan 2010
Blue for the chill,
It's blue,
That hill,
Off in the distance,
Past that window,
That hasn't been washed,
I'll do that,
I will.

But the hill,
It's blue,
Blue is for the chill,
In case you forgot,
I do that sometimes,
I can't remember my lines,
But it's ok,
Cause they did too,
So it's not just you,

But look,
Out the ***** window,
That I forgot to clean,
A minute ago,
Oh,
Right.

...

Now look,
Look!
Past the window you don't know is there,
Cause its so clean,
Out to the hill,
It's blue,
Just like you,
Blue is for the chill,
Blue is for you too.

I know why blue is yours,
Cause I know almost everything,
I knew what your favorite colour is,
I know your favorite song to sing,
I shouldn't give it away too soon,
But the colour is blue,
And the song Blue Moon,
I knew I shouldn't have said anything,
I gave it away too soon...

But that's why you need to look,
You need to see,
Just like me,
I see you have eyes,
I know that cause I can see,
Big surprise,
It's deductive reasoning,
I like your wide eyes,
Makes you look scared,
Maybe you won't be so combative,
Maybe you'll do better than the others faired...

No no,
Don't cry,
Please don't cry,
I,
I don't know what to do about tears,
I find them to be one of my bigger fears,
I fear them like you fear death,
I'm not sure how to make them stop,
Without stealing your breath...

That's better
I'm glad you stopped,
It's better than you smile,
Cause it's been quite awhile,
Since I've seen someone not so scared,
Perhaps you will do better,
Than the others faired...

Oh no,
I've gone and frightened you again,
I'm sorry,
I don't mean to,
I'm unsure what to do,
How about I show you something?
Here look,
See,
It's a ring,
Diamond and gold,
Will keep shining forever,
Till we're grey and old,
Isn't that something else?
It'll last longer than both you and I,
But that's no surprise,
Rocks have long lives,
We humans almost never survive...

But never mind that,
You got me all sidetracked,
Trickster you!
But look,
Beyond the window,
All the blue,
That is the hill,
Cause blue is for the chill,
And I know how you like the colour,
I like always how the world is still,
Never moving,
Not an inch,
Not a mile,
Not bit,
Not in quite awhile,
I've often wondered why not,
But then I forgot,
What I wondered about,
And then I scream,
And I shout,
And when I stop I find everyone's sleeping,
Not making a sound,
Not even breathing,
So I dig a big,
Big hole in the ground,
And in they go,
Without a sound.

But don't worry,
I won't forget a thing!
I won't ever forget the name of that song,
That song you love to sing!
It's called...
It's called...
It's called.....

...

....

...Hm,
Wake up sleepy head,
Wake up lazy bones!
Oh,
You're dead...
You never even got to see the hill,
That's passed the window,
It's blue,
Blue is for the chill,
All for you,
That hill,
Cause it's blue,
And I know you really like the colour,
Or liked I guess,
What a mess...
I'm sorry for this,
I really thought I'd miss,
Never hit anything with it before,
But I guess I did today,
I had hoped you could stay,
For a little while longer,
I knew that I could be just that little bit stronger,
But not today...
Salvador Kent May 11
They stand over a grave,
And sing a song about going home,
Home. From a far away land.
They shout, cry, rage,
Because now the grave contains a dead man...
Everybody feels so, so alone.

...

Rain rain rain.
Pouring down in streams,
Pouring down the lonely roads,
Pouring pouring downstream.
Tears. Tears amongst the rain,
Tears down my cheek,
Desperate tears ******* please,
Please tell me this is all a dream.

Then in the constant rain,
Pebble falls to my feet,
Pick up the pebble,
Carry on walking...
What the **** is this dream?

Is it a dream?
Am I in a dream?
Is this wood I see
Dead wood
Lonely wood
Is this wood a dream?

...

Your eyes glisten in the moonlight...
That's what I once told blue eyes.
Glisten like the ocean at night...
That's what I told blue eyes...

But she's dead now.
Had to let her go.
Glistening days are over…
I took a boat set sail...
Blue all over the place,
Hard to move on
*** it's all I see
******* blue
Tormenting me
And the moonlight…
Beautiful desperate moonlight
Reflected failed moonlight...
Is now pale.
...

Oh blue eyes.
Dance with me in the pale moonlight,
Let's dance underneath the stars...
Dance all night
Till the sun starts to rise,
Even if it's just for a night
Even if it's just for a night...
Please. I want to be satisfied.
I want you to glisten once more
Glisten in the moonlight.
So I can be satisfied.
Happy and satisfied.

I love you blue eyes.
You're all I see.
You're in the ocean,
That I'm travelling through,
You're in the birds,
That sing to me at dawn...
And you're in the rain,
That bought me that pebble
All those years ago...

And they say that you're in the moonlight,
Every once in a while...
You make the pale moonlight blue...
I want to make it blue with you...
Please. I want to make it blue with you.
Even if it's just for a night.
One night dancing under the pale moonlight
Then I'll drift away forever.

I know that's what you want.
Blue eyes.
******* pretty blue eyes.
Loving blue eyes.
Sickly blue eyes.
Beautiful blue eyes.
Come dance with me in the pale moonlight.

Please. For in a while
The moon will lose its shine.
So come. For the first and last time
Please take my hand
Dance with me in the pale moonlight…

...

I'm sorry I was wrong.
Shouldn't have asked.
I'll bury my love for you in that grave,
Remember what the dead man told me.

Love is painful, always has been.
And if those blue eyes
Don't feel the same.
If they don't want to dance with you
In the moonlight that's now ******* blue.

Then all your feelings,
However strong...
Have to stop being feelings.
No more dancing,
Sing a sad song...
About coming home.
Because blue eyes is going home.
Leaving you behind.

And you have to keep moving on.
An old dream, an old poem.
Rowan Carrick Nov 2010
Steeples scraping at the tired blue sky
A little boy with bright blue eyes
A blue bug flies up a lady’s dress
The radio plays a Blue Christmas
The ocean mirrors a pale blue cloud
The stars are watching from their blue shroud
A dark blue ship is sailing in
The dock is blue and crumbling
A dark man fishes with his bluest pole
Services end, a blue bell tolls
A boy and girl, pick blueberries
Her blue skirt caught on a thorn tree
I’m feeling blue, I’m not sure why
You wore a suit, a light blue tie
The minutes change the clock is blue
My shoes and eyes and sorrow too
So I drag a blunt blade across a blue vein
And this red blood pours out my blue pain
Carrick 2009

— The End —