Best Blue(A) Poems
I’m driftwood, and I’m floating out to sea
as sun descends upon my home - the grove
of trees whose fragrance still remains with me.
And likewise, heaven’s work of art, a mauve
surrounding me, now permeates my soul.
Warm water, in the twilight growing cold,
is rocking me. Beneath dark blue, a shoal
moves swiftly; overhead there will unfold
the myriad of stars in semblance of
a giant carousel in dimming sky.
Those stars that glitter for the grove I love
will glitter too for me, where here I lie
alone, enraptured. . . and I think I might
drift evermore, enveloped by this night.
Categories:
blue(a),
Form:
Sonnet
The midsummer sky, so vast and wide,
Takes on a hue that's acerb to describe,
A canvas of blues, so many shades,
A masterpiece that never fades.
Deep indigo, almost back,
As twilight blue, a hint of black,
A sapphire blue, so bright and bold,
A baby blue, so soft and cold.
The clouds dance, so light and airy,
A white so pure, so bright and merry,
A gray so dark, so heavy, and so low
Pink is so soft, akin to a gentle glow.
The stars twinkle, so bright and clear,
A constellation, so faraway but near,
A moon so round, so bright and white,
A sight so grand, it's quite a sight.
The midsummer sky, a treasure of art,
A beauty that touches every heart,
A point in history, so pure and free,
A memory that will always be
Written: June 6, 2023
Categories:
blue(a), analogy, appreciation, bird, summer,
Form:
Rhyme
My father's abeng blew up my mother's womb
And I was chained there
Nine months in darkness drinking blood
Longing for my resurrection from the tomb
Longing to break the chains
Holding me before my birth to a carnal earth
Longing to stop him pounding
Pounding on the door of my bereft eternity
I carrying the weight of him already
The weight of them against the gravity
Of my life. My wings folded
Longing wield sword edge of flight against the sun
I burdened to undo what already is done
Have no finality here.
Look at me like an eagle flying in the sun
Blood dripping from my talons when the flight is done
O let me cleanse the world again
In the red flood that alters pain.
One day I was born screaming for a cause
I could not take kindly to tradition
Slapping black and blue a baby's **** ... laws
Must have been broken to beat the innocent
Unless it is a crime to come into this earth
To carry so much legacy
From maroon history to Jesus Christ, blacklisted
Like my my forebears: Shaka
Father of my grandfather's mother,
My other grandfather, Accompong warrior
Slain between the stones of Holland Estate and Mountain
Bridging the way for fleeing slaves
I come Cudjo less, Nanny less, merciless
Carrying on the war of generations
Calling no more for repatriation but reparation
Of human rights, human dignity, and racial sovereignty
Where Africa may find again its concord
Without false treaty and flimsy accord
Raping the Congo of natural resources and life
I come, the bushing through guinea grass
Tumbling kingdoms with wisdom and knife.
For this I was born, beaten at birth
Given resurrection from the night of earth.
My father sought to be civilize
Recite poems of Britannia's might and lies
And I, I was singing with the night
Reading a long history of pain to make write
Of my own proclamations, to declare
I shall not bend my knees, nor walk in fear
Where death measure us in dust
And vampires and conquistadores lust
For El Dorado buried in my disgust.
I am a man, and I will make my monument of truth
Upon the gravestone of the brute.
Categories:
blue(a), politicalme, history, me,
Form:
Free verse
I see three doors before me.
The one to the left is blue, a beautiful lupis blue
with ornate lacework in its center.
Parisian-esque, it looks likes an entrance to adventure
and inspires me with its sophistication.
I imagine inside the rooms beyond that door
exotic curios on shelves along the walls
or tables heaped with charming little treasures.
My muse’s curiosity is sparked!
The middle door I see is that of a welcoming house.
Beneath two large rectangles of decorative glass
hangs a straw wreath adorned with festive flowers.
A friendly-looking white lab sits in front of this door
and on each side of it on the old-fashioned porch
are two pots of pretty geraniums.
I imagine beyond this door friends and family
gathered around the kitchen table
finishing Mom’s delicious apple pie
and preparing to break open a pack of cards
or sit beside their fireplace, playing charades
or perhaps singing along to a guitar.
The part of me that longs for warmth of family
lingers at this door.
The last door I spy
much farther away and surrounded by trees
is a light green door blending in with nature,
unadorned and not as high as the first two doors.
Were it a bit smaller and round, it could almost be
the door to a hobbit’s cottage.
A bower of vines spreads around it
covering the brown bricks of the house,
and a short cobblestone pathway leads upward
to this simple but interesting door.
I know that if I open it and wander in,
solitude will surely greet me, a solitude so sweet
that when I shut the door behind me,
I’ll leave behind the stresses of my life.
I will have entered another world
where I can rest and meditate. . .
perchance to write.
I look back at the first door, imagining the thrill
of discovery. Its charming blue entices me.
Then I return my gaze to the second door
from which warmth and empathy exude.
I redirect my gaze to the third door. . .
Which do I want more?
New experiences? Intimacy? Peacefulness?
Creative inspiration could reside behind all three.
Which one do I choose?
Which one would YOU choose?
March 28, 2017
for the Doors Contest of Anthony Biaanco
Categories:
blue(a), metaphor,
Form:
Prose
Since the elders often proclaim, my how time flies,
You then naturally look up into the skies.
To study the heavens for at least one small sign,
From the horizon up to the tallest tree line.
Then suddenly, a flock of birds flitters about,
So you believe that you might have time figured out.
But when the old people mentioned, my how time flies,
They didn’t bring up birds; so is time in disguise?
As a carnival balloon, yes that’s it, you say,
Like the vanishing kind on a bright summer day.
But losing your own, is one of life’s biggest fears,
Since you don’t want to waste any time crying tears.
It’s possible that time is commuting by plane,
Which is surely the fastest speed time could attain.
But what good can that be when the planes out of sight,
Unless it quickly returns from its roundtrip flight?
Then is waiting around to see time such a waste,
When each day there are many affairs to be faced?
Then out of the blue a helicopter is seen,
And you reflect, maybe time is on that machine.
But as soon as a copter is here it’s gone by,
After noisily chopping the beautiful sky.
Although it’s very unlikely time takes that ride,
Unless it cannot hear, or ear plugs are supplied.
Wait a minute, I got it, time surfs over clouds;
If I could do the same all my friends would be proud.
And occasionally time would appear as rain,
But then an excess amount would go down the drain.
Then could time be a portion of air all the time,
To be breathed in, or to give life to a wind chime?
Though, is that really flying like old people claim?
It seems all my guesses are exactly the same.
Well, after a long life of thinking and trying,
To figure out the ways that time could be flying,
In heaven, by feather, or motor, as vapor,
Yet, not one of those ways can be proved on paper.
Until recently, when I looked in the past,
The answers were there for those time questions asked.
That time really flies, though it takes time to see,
That a lifetime of living, is the real key.
And now I tell the young, that time truly flies,
But don’t bother looking up into the skies.
Time earns its wings every day, inside the mind,
And can only be seen, when looking behind!
David Fisher for Impress Me-Iambic Meter Contest
Philosophical motif
Categories:
blue(a), flying, philosophy, time,
Form:
Iambic Pentameter
Me name is Daniel Morgan
There’s a thousand pounds on me head
Just me and me native lad
We upset the Traps,
the silly chaps,
Gawd strike me dead.
The Traps were camping ,
on the green old lagoon.
Me n Billy shot a few
Had em squealing like a loon,
In New South Wales,
after noon.
Mad Dog Morgan is me name,
Bushranging is me plurry game,
With my pistol you will bail up,
Some say I’m really quite insane,
Some wont give me up,
either?
So they shot me in the throat,
An here I lie a dying,
Cut off me bloody head ,
Gawd strike me dead,
Police desk, me skull, a lying.
Scrotum for tobacco pouch.
For Victoria’s top Policeman,
Pretty prize,
yes dead or alive,
Don’t be sad n blue, a grieving {about 1865)
Don Johnson
This Irish guy had lots of support,
From the ex convict’s n Aussie sports ,
Deported Irish of all sorts
Not really, not surprising!
Categories:
blue(a), adventureme, me,
Form:
Rhyme
ITS NOT EASY BEING GREEN
Green has much responsibility.
Green is everywhere!
A touch of blue, a dash of yellow
it sings of vitality
and rebirth.
Symbolic of spring, green brings
balance and the renewal of nature.
It walks a tightrope of positives
green thumbs, green lights
greener pastures, emeralds
and negatives
green around the gills
envy and greed, aliens.
It’s not easy being green!
Categories:
blue(a), color, green,
Form:
Free verse
Haudenosaunee ...
translation: They made the house
But who painted it
the colors we now see ---
Red, white and blue
Let's go back in time shall we,
and observe who cut down the first tree
in the eleventh century
Five Nations ...
called by one name, Iroquois
A French given name
Separate nations who agreed
to live under the same
Great Law of Peace
Signified by the Great Tree
that housed all five families
under one roof
Haudenosaunee ...
The long house was proof
that all nations could come together as one
under one roof
A novel idea, way ahead of its time,
the first North American U.N. of it's kind
That was a nice trip back in history,
but the question still remains: who painted the long house
the colors we now see ---
Red, white and blue
The answer, perhaps you never knew
Even so, you never thought about it much, did you
Mohawk red ... a lot of spilt bloodshed
Onondaga white ... a lot of innocent loss of lives
Oneida blue ... a lot of human souls traded too
Cayuga red ... a lot of totems toppled on their head
Seneca white ... a lot of war whoops in the night
Iroquois turquoise blue ... a lot of ancient land taken by someone new
Seems two coats of war paint wasn't enough,
too bad they didn't first try the color of love
Categories:
blue(a), allegory, history, truth, war,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
There is in the house a hullabaloo
Furore, a fuss, commotion, ado
The in-laws will soon
Return from the moon
Be staying with us, a month, maybe two!
Short notice, their note arrived in the mail
A bolt from the blue, a cause for travail.
Do not get me wrong
We all get along
But we’re in a fix; the house is for sale!
We’re packing our things and are under stress
And as you can guess the place is a mess.
What can we now do!
We don’t have a clue
This issue we must together assess.
The ruckus abates, in silence we sit
On boxes and chairs, our brows tightly knit
Till Susan (who else!)
“Eureka” she yells
She is the most smart, I have to admit.
“We’ll rent the hotel that is down the street
It’s small but enough (her voice is upbeat)
To hold one and all
Let’s give them a call.”
We quickly agree and jump off our seat.
Off season it is, so luck's on our side
We’re happy to get a place to reside...
This surely will cause
Surprise for in-laws
Initial concern we’re putting aside.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Children’s Limericks Contest
Sponsored by Eve Roper
Placed 2nd
© 1st December, 2022
Categories:
blue(a), fun,
Form:
Limerick
Take my mom to heaven, do it for me, so that one day I will find her there, waiting for me.
Take my mom to heaven, some place beyond the sky, to a place where there is no longer a need to cry. Where there isn’t anymore pain, where the sun is always shining, and the sky is always the brightest color of blue, a place where someday, one day I will find you.
In the realm of angels, where you will dance with grace,
Watching and waiting for our beloved face.
Guiding from above, with a gentle touch,
Her presence felt deeply, missed very much.
Words can never express the void I now feel, excepting that you are finally and forever gone, a feeling that is so surreal.
I will think of you often, as I sometimes will, when I sit and reminisce, remembering your love and wishing for your kiss.
So when the time comes to reunite once more,
In heaven's embrace, on that far-off shore,
Your love will surround me like a warm embrace,
A mother's love, transcending time and space.
Knowing one day, I will see you again, in a new place where now we can be the best of friends. A place where I can talk directly to you, and we can catch up on my life and all that I’ve seen and been through. A place full of joy, love, peace and happiness. I will see you one day when it’s my time, my final sun sets.
Categories:
blue(a), death, eulogy, farewell, funeral,
Form:
Free verse
Tremble at this door child but do not come in yelled the Quent
she an ogress at the end of her wits wearing muslin and flint
was only looking for a King who could love her as she was
When the angry boombox voice gave her quivering she went
away, hunching her shoulders she glided away her ogre scent
A little latch opened a flash of blue a slant of eye then he re spoke
"do you clean Kingdoms and can you cook, for a jaunty bloke?"
"oh for the love of God" she cried, I got teacups bigger than this place
yes I can wipe your palace, dust your crocket, just don't look at my face
and so he let her into the Kingdom of JUA, and so began their chase
A little fairy magic in the soup was all he needed as he ate in one gulp
contented as a Mishka, he cried out, " my your skin is soft as pulp! "
From an Ogress to a Tigress, down she went like a pile of timber
while he headlong without haste planted a kiss so soft and limber
that it opened her heart, henceforth they lived happily ever after .
The End.
December 24, 2020
Categories:
blue(a), fantasy,
Form:
Rhyme
The sky was blue, a beautiful day.
The sun sparkled bright on the water beyond.
She sat in the grass, admiring the display.
She wondered if there were fish in the pond.
Grey marble lined up in long, even rows.
Names and dates, husband, father, brother, son,
Wife, mother, sister, daughter; all of those.
She was still breathing but their lives were done.
Memories flood her mind like never before.
For twenty years they shared a life and love.
She lay on the grass, read his name once more,
With thoughts of him looking down from above.
I guess you know how much I still love you.
One day I’ll be there, to stroll heaven, too.
Categories:
blue(a), emotions, heaven, i miss
Form:
Sonnet
You. From out of the blue a dream come true, every since
your debut my life flourishes anew.
When I first caught your eye my heart became electrified
but I was acting kinda' shy so you simply passed me by.
Then you turned for another look, the Earth shook,
nevertheless, clueless but hooked, you remained a
closed book.
I stood intimidated for you seemed so complicated, so
the conversation you initiated and I was elevated. You,
So beautifully understated.
Hence your elegance leaves me in suspense, however
it's very clever the way you use common sense.
Nonetheless, I acquiesce your beauty, your finesse,
amazing and I'm forever impressed with such
faithfulness. You... Timeless.
Categories:
blue(a), beautiful, best friend, confidence,
Form:
Organizing the poems I have thought about organizing for two years
Finally have the time to do it. Feel grateful; did not think it would happen.
Outlined a mural from the kitchen to the last bedroom.
Dragon, kings, castles, queens, faeries, elves, brownies, cats.
Doing the things I thought I would do upon retirement before retirement
Still have the energy for it, and glad that I do as I fish stuff out from under beds
Some of these items have been there for twelve years; I thought it would be fourteen
Not fourteen now, as I begin to throw them all into a garbage pile.
If I have not used them for twelve years why would I need to keep them?
If a critter gets into the house through a dog door, it will be more difficult to hide.
Painting the white bathroom blue, a dream of mine for the past five years.
For five summers I have thought I would do it. Now I have.
Sorting online photos into files, so I can more easily find them.
Always thought of doing it; now I have the time.
Spending an hour a day writing poetry; a luxury I am loving.
Cuddling with a dog and cat who love it. A new hobby.
Keeping in touch with my friends via Zoom and Face Time.
Made my own U-tube channel where I have posted six videos.
I never knew how to make a video before this pandemic.
Now I do not know how to stop making videos!
Categories:
blue(a), self,
Form:
Lyric
Upon your wings of crystal blue
a morning drop of dew
although the sky is watching you
you know, I am there too
Oh dragonfly of love, how do you do
I wonder as I sit and rue
about the things I never knew
and all this beauty, oh so new
Of all the sanctuaries of the world
you chose the one that has been pearled
by an artist's loving hand unfurled,
I am beholden to, things I have unlearned;
In this moment I appreciate the beauty
of a simple thing, that draws me
at the edge of dawn I am always free
to dance with this dragonfly and just be
Upon a sky of crystal blue a dragonfly wing of every hue,
although its made of old glass, every day feels bran new.
Written by: Mystic Rose
Inspired by: Susan Jarrell
Categories:
blue(a), appreciation,
Form:
Free verse