"bluest" poems
*I searched
the deepest depths
of the vastest oceans,
I searched way up high,
past the clouds,
in the bluest of blue skies,
I searched
deep in the hearts
of nature's greenest forests...
It turns out,
that I was carrying it within me
all along - only now, do I realise.
By Lady R.F ©2016*
Oct 6, 2016
Oct 6, 2016 at 4:46 PM UTC
The spirit within..is a part you …a part me
Two souls intertwined
Holding hands at birth, never to be forgotten
Turned into individual presence that care
The spirit within..is a part you …a part me
Sharing, feeling, loving…it is a natural force for us to share
Although many miles apart…this greatest distance
The heart and soul do not part
The spirit within..is a part you …a part me
Understanding this power, is to realise that we are never alone
Loved ones will come, loved ones will go
Remember…I am here
Without saying a word…I know you hear
The spirit within..is a part you …a part me
When life on this earth will do us part
Just …just for that brief moment…I will think of you
And the smile within, brighten my heart
The spirit within..is a part you …a part me
Knowing that we will always be together
It is God’s gift to us
So let us not be frightened
Heaven is only a higher and promised place
Where souls fly and become angels through the bluest sky
The spirit within..is a part you …a part me
Do not let it go…have this faith
It is God’s will…you will see
Mar 31, 2010
Mar 31, 2010 at 1:59 PM UTC
As I look into your eyes, brighter than the bluest skies the kind of eyes that mesmerize, the ones where all my trouble dies.
As I look into your eyes, the ones that make my spirits rise, with looks that beauty never buys, as I gaze into your eyes.
And I stroke your silky hair, my worries fade without a care.
I take a breath of frosty air and look into your eyes so fair.
I simply cannot help but stare, emotions that I couldn't share come rushing out with such despair, and now my fears are everywhere.
But then you stop me then and there, with compassion truly rare, help me with the load I bear, and put an end to my nightmare.
You help me out like it's your duty, I'm thankful for my blue eyed beauty
May 9, 2017
May 9, 2017 at 10:39 AM UTC
She was ugly.
A snake of a girl- beady
blue eyes and
blood-red toenails.
The small snigger creeping
up through her perfectly
kept teeth as she spat
at the garbage
of the street: the creatures
she couldn’t see
through her beady
blue eyes.
Her mama would dress her
up in yellow ribbons and green bows.
“Why honey,
you make a sweet little
dandelion,”.
She liked to be
a dandelion, but secretly
she dreamed of being
a marigold:
Lips parted to the sun,
seeds planted
in the rich soil of her own
blackness.
She wanted to be a marigold.
But she was just
a dandelion,
stepping on petals and
weeding out whatever
she longed to be.
May 21, 2015
May 21, 2015 at 8:40 AM UTC
*She created
A doorway in her mind,
she always keeps one foot in
And one foot out.
However,
Her mind is always lingering
On the other side -
She often feels the need
To breakout!
On the other side,
The trees are wise ancient
Majestic giants,
Rustic leaves
Cover the fertile ground.
The moon is always full,
It is always perfectly round.
The sun is always shining,
But sometimes she has it rain -
Just to hear
The sweet serene sound...
She loves the smell
Of the earth afterwards -
The damp rich ground.
On the other side of the doorway,
Her soul is free -
Here,
She is immune
From emotional stress,
Strain, and pain.
Inspiration is carried
Through the wind,
There is nothing to lose,
But everything to gain.
Nature,
Is always most accepting,
Embracing her essence,
Here, she is alive,
She has an illuminated spirit -
A pure white glowing presence.
She never needs to struggle
For her every breath...
Everything is truly alive -
Nothing, at all, resembles death.
Rivers, crystal-clear,
Flowing with vitality,
Flora and fauna,
Beauty in an abundance -
Thriving,
Celebrating their precious Individuality.
Magnificent mountains
Reaching into heaven,
The bluest ocean,
Wrapping itself around
A breathtaking coast,
Everything about this place
Is what she adores -
What her soul absolutely loves
The most.
On this side,
Nobody can disturb her peace,
Nobody can break her spirit,
Nobody can take her freedom,
Nobody can invade her tranquil thoughts - that's all there is to it!
Here,
Butterflies and doves
Glide through the air,
In dance -
Touching her eyes
With a heavenly love -
So pure.
She always keeps one foot in
And one foot out,
But her heart and her soul
Reside here -
Because here,
Less, is more!
By Lady R.F ©2016*
Nov 18, 2016
Nov 18, 2016 at 3:12 AM UTC
I take an early morning walk
and watch the bluest sky
the impatiens and the dark
pink trees
the silence of the birds who
hum in tune with time
I watch the flower boxes
in front of every house
geraniums in red and white
the energy of bees amidst
I string it all together
inside my crowded mind
and **** out all the clutter
to bring in the quiet message
I stop and breathe within
Alone inside my thoughts
I see the day begin
Salvation at it's highest...
Sep 5, 2013
Sep 5, 2013 at 7:59 AM UTC
Drift off
Slower than the tide
And these hazy buttercups
On this Sunday morning
Drift off
And let your fears
Spill into the current
That passes you gently along.
Melodies take me
And light guitar strings murmur
Giving flow to my stiff bones
As they sigh in the sunlight
Staring lovingly into the bluest sky
Bluer than the green water
That sings its own harmony.
Hear the birds chant
Sparks into the air
Hear the water hush
The wind that will never come today
And the chug chug chug
Of that faithful riverboat
Keeping me steadily onwards
On its warm wooden deck.
Mar 1, 2016
Mar 1, 2016 at 4:12 PM UTC
I've seen you in striped white,
I've seen you in black wrap-around tops,
I've seen you in stilettos,
I've seen you in Fitflops.
I've seen you in the bluest of days,
I've seen you in the rainiest of nights,
I've seen you in the face of the sun,
I've seen you in the wind-full of kites.
I've seen you in the trajectory of life,
I've seen you stare at me with care,
I've seen you in the droplets of water,
I've seen you in every castle in the air.
I've seen you dreaming,
I've seen you back in reality,
I've seen you physically Earthy,
I've seen you emotionally Mars-y,
I've seen you sad and jubilant,
I've seen you troubled, but kept a smile,
I've seen you doubled - in poker,
I've seen you gone crazily wild.
I've seen you in green-blinking nails,
I've seen you return my stutters,
I've seen you stand tall - confident,
I've seen you slouch - don't matter.
I've seen you looking into empty spaces,
I've seen you looking into a tasty plate,
I've seen you doubt yourself,
I've seen you believing in fate.
I've seen you in the bakery,
I've seen you in a factory,
I've seen you in your beauty,
I've seen you in your most ball-sy.
I've seen you in the bus,
I've seen you read,
I've seen you pick up a microphone,
I've seen you speaking with speed.
I've seen you with a newspaper,
I've seen you with an iPad,
I've seen you with a t-shirt,
I've seen you stylishly clad.
I've seen you work hard,
I've seen you studied irresponsibly,
I've seen you proud,
I've seen you flicker embarrassingly.
I've seen you here,
I've seen you there,
I've seen you near,
I've seen you everywhere.
I've seen enough,
I've seen you in extremes,
I've seen you thorough,
I've seen you in teams.
I've seen you verily,
I've seen you truly,
I've seen so much inspiration,
I've seen you guilty.
I've seen "I've seen" 58 times,
I've seen you more than that few.
But I would've seen nothing more,
If I've seen none of you.
Mar 25, 2013
Mar 25, 2013 at 4:56 AM UTC
Blue the mountains
holding close in view
sacred smoke of yesterdays
blue fog shrouded trails
beneath the rhododendron
falls of sweet blue water
replenishing the rivers
sapphire lakes reflecting
splendor of the bluest hills
above the peaceful valley
hear the sacred music
of the blue ridge mountains
magic in the songs of old
forever blue my appalachia
blue the hills I used to roam.
r ~ 7/4/14
Jul 4, 2014
Jul 4, 2014 at 9:16 AM UTC
In sunshine or in shadow how rich the loamy soil
light of earth, dream of rebirth greening
lilac buds and bluebells ring
magenta hills, aubretia spring
of burning fire
A mossy path of violets, soft my feet to wander
muscari blue the garden dew
birds to drink of leafy puddles
bluest skies go grey, drifts so swift a rain cloud by
to water quick the daffodil, silk umbrellas yellow
and comes alas the greening grass
robins hopping, weaving
Spring unfurls in flowery births
tiny violets upon the earth
Aug 13, 2013
Aug 13, 2013 at 12:41 AM UTC
"I knew this girl once,
she had long hair, so long it whispered tiny kisses along her hips and waist
she had the oddest bluest eyes i'd ever seen, the color of the sky right before it gets completely dark
her thick, long eyelashes framed those eyes, and freckles formed constellations across her cheeks
i could almost draw the big dipper and Orion's belt on her milky white face.
She didn't know i existed but i admired her from afar. I could tell she was educated- She always had some form of poetry in her hand. But of all the things i could have noticed about her i noticed her bookmarks. She would lose them all the time, i would see her chasing after the scraps of paper as they flew through the wind down the street. She'd stick anything in between those pages, wrappers of all sorts, leaves, pennies, shoelaces, once i even saw a page ripped from a different book. It became my favorite game to guess what the next bookmark would be. After awhile she stopped chasing the various bookmarks across the city and she cut all that long hair off, then awhile after that she started using unoriginal, uninspired plain old bookmarks.Then even awhile that she stopped bringing books altogether, until one day she didn't show up. Nobody knew that beautiful, mysterious, bookmark making girl was locked up inside her own mind. Nobody knew she hated her long hair and her freckles and even those baby blues. Nobody knew that she couldn't stand to live in her skin anymore so much that she swallowed a couple pills one night to ease away the pain. Even worse was she didn't know i watched her for so long and thought she was the most interesting human being i'd ever encountered. That girl committed suicide because she hated herself learn from her mistake, my mistake, everyone who ever noticed her bookmarks mistake, and don't do this, don't off yourself with a .45 before you've even had a chance to live" he's desperate now
"please please you don't have to do this" he sputters
I answer simply " I never was much of a bookmark girl, i always dog-eared my pages"
bang
Nov 6, 2013
Nov 6, 2013 at 6:35 PM UTC
I am pretty sure I'm in love with you. I love the way your freckles fall perfectly in place like the ones the draw on American girl dolls. I love the way you smile, crinkling up your small little noes and squinting your eyes like the books you always read have damaged not only your adjustment to light, but the way you see earth so that now everything seems unfitting. Unfitting for a king like you. I love the way your hair looks like you just woke up. I love the way you smell. I love the way you walk like a character from the Incredibles, hopping around. I love the way you look when you read one of your novels. I love your eyes. Your eyes I could stare at forever. Reminding me of our first conversation, time I complemented your eyes . Your eyes. As if some one took the bluest lake out of your newest book and shrunk them. I love the way you talk. I love the way your voice sounds when you read aloud. It reminds me of being a kid, curled up in my pink cat pajamas, listening to my father read Good Night Moon. I love the way you dress. I love the way you laugh. I love you. But to you I'm just a friend. The person you get the homework from as you rush to study exactly 5.5 seconds before a test. I'm just the girl you smile at. But I love you. I love you more than I've ever loved anyone. I love the way you acknowledge me as just a friendly face. I love the way the way I love you is just a secret.
Apr 15, 2015
Apr 15, 2015 at 12:15 AM UTC
Mother, mother, what ill-bred aunt
Or what disfigured and unsightly
Cousin did you so unwisely keep
Unasked to my christening, that she
Sent these ladies in her stead
With heads like darning-eggs to nod
And nod and nod at foot and head
And at the left side of my crib?
Mother, who made to order stories
Of Mixie Blackshort the heroic bear,
Mother, whose witches always, always
Got baked into gingerbread, I wonder
Whether you saw them, whether you said
Words to rid me of those three ladies
Nodding by night around my bed,
Mouthless, eyeless, with stitched bald head.
In the hurricane, when father's twelve
Study windows bellied in
Like bubbles about to break, you fed
My brother and me cookies and Ovaltine
And helped the two of us to choir:
'Thor is angry; boom boom boom!
Thor is angry: we don't care!'
But those ladies broke the panes.
When on tiptoe the schoolgirls danced,
Blinking flashlights like fireflies
And singing the glowworm song, I could
Not lift a foot in the twinkle-dress
But, heavy-footed, stood aside
In the shadow cast by my dismal-headed
Godmothers, and you cried and cried:
And the shadow stretched, the lights went out.
Mother, you sent me to piano lessons
And praised my arabesques and trills
Although each teacher found my touch
Oddly wooden in spite of scales
And the hours of practicing, my ear
Tone-deaf and yes, unteachable.
I learned, I learned, I learned elsewhere,
From muses unhired by you, dear mother.
I woke one day to see you, mother,
Floating above me in bluest air
On a green balloon bright with a million
Flowers and bluebirds that never were
Never, never, found anywhere.
But the little planet bobbed away
Like a soap-bubble as you called: Come here!
And I faced my traveling companions.
Day now, night now, at head, side, feet,
They stand their vigil in gowns of stone,
Faces blank as the day I was born.
Their shadows long in the setting sun
That never brightens or goes down.
And this is the kingdom you bore me to,
Mother, mother. But no frown of mine
Will betray the company I keep.
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the bluest blue
swiping left
swiping left
looking for you
looking for you.
Jul 15, 2014
Jul 15, 2014 at 1:45 PM UTC
I couldn't begin to repair
His broken wing.
Born of the bluest of blue skies
Soaked in kerosene, sitting on tinder
his intentions have fallen
to a blanket, fettered with
pine bark, rotting leaves,
rich soil and dark magic.
His tiny heart, as small as a poppy
seed beats faster than a drum
His tiny form yearns to catch the breeze
to the nectar of the next Trumpet Creeper.
Aug 28, 2014
Aug 28, 2014 at 7:51 PM UTC
The pendulum is a bull shark.
The hour of the savior is a pregnant bride's swan dive into the water.
The mighty mile is a figure 8 in the scoot of
non slop socks across the bare linoleum.
Blood and bright are the redness of the blanket.
divine terror at one hart beat per hour.
Finger nails green and black against a back drop
of the brightest, bluest eyes you've ever seen;
deep pools of liquid light that will shine when least expected.
And the obligation isn't one at all,
for when i breath in,
you breath out.
And when I gave consent 1000 years ago times 10-
you performed the exorcism under the shroud of my amnesia
and the spotted light from a crystal disco ball.
Shards of light moved upon the face of all the space between the stars.
My heart was in the highlands but now its in your hands.
Oct 2, 2020
Oct 2, 2020 at 8:15 PM UTC
I watch as the sun dances on the water, under the bluest sky. No twirling clouds in the breeze above. No shadows block the sun. Twinkling stars in the afternoon hang around to dance all night. The sparkling onyx water takes the hand of the moon and is serenaded by the night sky in all its illustrious splendor.
**Fluttering lights sway
Music unheard leads the dance
As heartbeats keep time**
In the heat of the day through midnight shades of navy, the ocean laps the shore. Beckoning ever so gently. With each passing joyous tango, the force rises until it demands your company. Until you learn to dance in all your glory. To be one in the night and be bare in the sun. To reflect the good around you and let it shine down and make you free. Still, I sit and watch the water dance.
Jun 16, 2010
Jun 16, 2010 at 7:41 PM UTC
I would've loved to meet her.
The sweetness you spoke in her honor.
A gentle breeze in a month of freezes.
Electric, connective, explorative.
I would love to meet the next.
The sweetest of peas.
Only bluest when being overly fruitful.
Reflections of trekking tower of the familial tree.
Expectations of expecting in introspect.
Forgive me for being greedy, wanting to be involved in your life.
Forgive me for involving my love.
I shall let the resting rest, the ones that need rest to get rested, and give my mind and soul a rest.
Ifeanyichuku Okoro © 2023
Nov 12, 2023
Nov 12, 2023 at 12:59 AM UTC
father
built of the finest stone
and breathing wood
my anchor
in rough waters
you do not let me fly
you do not let me drown
father
built of the softest down
and bluest eyes
my anchor
my anchor
Jun 15, 2014
Jun 15, 2014 at 11:16 AM UTC
Save for the yellow ring framing his pupils he has the bluest eyes
Wrinkles that date back to 15 but at 27 they've never been so defined
The smile he gives, he gives it away like it is nothing
He smiles at everyone even though he knows his smile is busted
Twice lost and held together with a metal post
one discolored tooth is proof that he can fight and win if hurt by someone too close
He sees monsters in mirrors and makes mountains out of his fear
He was barely even 12 when he first asked "why am I here?"
He knows everything is in his head but the noise is loud and always there
He's scared to get too close to anything and worries it comes off like he doesn't care
They say he is handsome, intelligent and kind but he has no idea why
They're looking at me but never make it past my eyes
Most people only see sunflowers in a blue sky
Nov 18, 2013
Nov 18, 2013 at 3:43 PM UTC
The surface of the water at Garrett Lake
is a ballroom floor, the bluest of hardwoods.
Hiding itself within its leafy forest green walls, which
if looked upon closely, one would swear you can see the woods.
We blazed a trail past a fallen trunk,
presumably lightning struck
whose roots had twisted
into the shape of a moose
fallen to sleep or endure breathe no more,
past the row of trees split
by the trail. One side
Life, the other death.
We found our way to an elder pine
who wanted to be a pier
and dove down so we could
sit upon him, no longer on land,
legs dangling like a chandelier above the ballroom.
Jan 27, 2015
Jan 27, 2015 at 2:15 PM UTC
In freedom’s blessed glorified sky through streaks of immortal gold his visage we behold
He looks upon the fields of liberty that he and the founding fathers sowed he sees the
Richness America has become he also beheld her struggles catastrophic wars abroad
And the most painful the one that divided the nation marred it with southern and northern
Blood saw the affable the sad giant Lincoln take the reins of discontent hold them by
Shear will and with uncommon sagacity guided it back in line to fulfill its destiny as the
Powerful fount that would always pour forth waters of freedom for all of earths peoples
Total unconditional acceptance of liberty and all the fruit it bears to establish a
Government like no other this golden grain has waved under bluest skies and brightest
Sun light its rich harvest has gone to darkest prison cells Mandela was sustained by it
For twenty nine years and by its moral purity it fed the lives of those that over threw
Apartied and Mandela finally freed by principals it avows rose from prison clothes
To wear the mantle of president of his country and the honor of the man instilled
Quality that transcended political office Jefferson not to be disrespectful to his progeny
Whispers today’s politicians could do well to look on this African model of good
Stewardship of public trust with that Jefferson faded back into the mist pray that’s
Not the fate of this country
Aug 29, 2012
Aug 29, 2012 at 2:26 PM UTC
*Butterfly Desires & Fictional Highs,
Magnetic Spells In Her Emerald Eyes,
Bleeding Perpetual Fire & Toxic Cries.
Lucid Screams Of Her Plastic Love,
Paper Towns & Serenity Above,
Refracting Into An Apocalyptic Dove.
Postcards Of Her Estranged Serenity,
Diffusing Into Polaroids Across Infinity,
Rhythms Of Lusts Erupting Obscenity.
Bluest Shade Of Her Misguided Confessions,
Uncharted Fragments Amplifying Obsessions,
Profane Prodigies Detonating Desecrations,
Digital Dreams & Fictional Desires,
3D Symphonies Inside Her Crystal Wires,
Purple Streams Translating Fires.
Tunnel Visions Transmitting Reality,
Suicidal Trance & Static Eternity,
Molotov Solution Is Her Lighthouse Of Ecstasy.
- 04:19AM -*
Mar 13, 2017
Mar 13, 2017 at 6:56 PM UTC
A lily-girl, not made for this world’s pain,
With brown, soft hair close braided by her ears,
And longing eyes half veiled by slumberous tears
Like bluest water seen through mists of rain:
Pale cheeks whereon no love hath left its stain,
Red underlip drawn in for fear of love,
And white throat, whiter than the silvered dove,
Through whose wan marble creeps one purple vein.
Yet, though my lips shall praise her without cease,
Even to kiss her feet I am not bold,
Being o’ershadowed by the wings of awe,
Like Dante, when he stood with Beatrice
Beneath the flaming Lion’s breast, and saw
The seventh Crystal, and the Stair of Gold.
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