Best Blue Gray Poems
I had waited for you seemingly forever
So long did it take before you were to come into my life
But in so many ways you had always been there
Your hair so white more than once people
Said that you glowed
Your eyes blue gray
Soft but piercing.
In the spring we’d plant flowers and you quite the digger
Would never tire of ‘replanting’ oh the control God blessed
Me with that summer
On the porch we would swing and sing until my throat would be sore
And still Id manage one more
Lavender Blue, You Are My Sunshine, Red River Valley
I can still hear the wee small voice
In the summer under the big maple the front walk
Would flood and we’d run back and forth barefooted and splashing
Your face, pure joy, your eyes animated, your smile so wide
And those cheeks I could tweak them right now
Is there any better sound than giggles and splashes
Autumn we would take long walks and picnics down in the woods
And sit on a fallen tree. We’d find ants and worms and spiders and rescue the most
Precious of treasures. Feathers, milkweed fuzz, acorns, so much
Bounty for the taking. We’d bring them home and glue them
On paper or cardboard or make touch books
Winter oh please let’s have snow for winter. Snowmen
And snow forts, snow balls and mmmm snow cream.
I remember the look on your face at your first bite as
If you had just made magic.
We read books by the fire, books and more books
Then you would touch my lips and ask me to
Read one with my mouth, which meant to make
Up one just for you.
You have been blessed with intelligence
You have an uncanny ability to fix things
You’ve never seen before
Your sense of humor can put me away
Until I beg you to stop
You have a sense of logic beyond your years
You will sit on the floor for hours and build block towers for babies
Most importantly my son
You have been blessed for an unquenchable thirst for God’s own heart
At eighteen our time together will be changing but sitting here
I remember the words from a book we used to sing to each other
“I’ll love you forever
I’ll like you for always
As long as I’m living
My baby you’ll be"
To Noah
Rows of heavy snow flocked pines
In varied heights stretch to touch
White cloud dappled azure skies.
Their blue-gray shadows cast across
Pristine snow and swift river's flow.
Steep hillsides lure camera lenses
With picturesque clear alpine air,
Sharing serene senses with dawn.
Shimmering bright in solar light,
Powdered snow in angelic glow
Captures diamond crystal auras
Reflected off the drifted mounds.
Rounded river rocks dressed with
Snow covered marshmallow tops
Greet the beauty of the celestial sun,
In divine display of this blessed day.
©Connie Marcum Wong
The first frost morning
A dormant barren landscape
Season of the blue gray light
This endless winter
cold and proud
Crystal air in harmony of sublime beauty
Beads of ice shimmer
A flower in passionate sorrow
glossy of winter's breath
In November
13.11.2017
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Poem Of The Day; 14.11.2017
O ever changing sky, blue-gray and maudlin
your mood and unsettled ways, meld with mine.
Clouds seem but blemishes upon horizons
as weary as the soot smudged cheeks of urchins.
Bruised in hues at once fresh with pain and longing,
not yet healed by the riper rise of next day’s bloom.
O ever changing sky, the nascent forest’s buds.
Its lashes linger in the purple poignancy of dusk
and whip thy brow with thrashing maple limbs.
Eyeless vault of heaven cry for me, release my plight
erase with thy wonders this tattered visage so forlorn.
The sky of night holds many jewels of delight.
O ever changing sky, clear to crisper shades of sapphire,
ping with shooting stars and glowing diadems of light.
Let lavender blue soften my sorrows for I like Merope*
need Orion’s might to lift my heartache, to point the way.
May thy constant rebirth give hope which melds with mine
and brings a beauty brighter than your Venus** to the day.
*Merope was Orion’s star crossed lover.
**Venus is the Goddess of Love and the Morning Star
1 Alluring : mystic 4 Mesmerizing eyes
Light brown : almost hazel eyes Caressing my Heart with LOVE
Always full of LOVE Knowing they own me
2 Eyes with flecks of green 5 My Barbara Jean
Immersing my Heart and Soul Your light brown eyes filled with LOVE
In Eternal LOVE Capture my Heartbeat
3 Soporific eyes 6 Together our eyes
Singing a sweet lullaby Entwine the arc of Rainbows
The song Forever LOVE Brown-green and blue gray
This is for YOU ; Barbara Jean Gorelick ; with all my Heart , with all my LOVE
Submitted for Pen to Face, Face to Pen Contest Sponsered by Sami Al-khalili
When I met the tall and amiable Vietnam War veteran,
my shyness showed,
yet, my throat dried and tightened when he softly
spoke the words, "The war never goes away."
All these humanity destroying wars never cease,
soldier's names, faces, their eyes so well-worn.
Their love letters sent home never faded in their
immortality.
The soldiers who made it home alive weren't
given a hero's welcome.
Their nightmares flashing as they wake up
sweating in their sheets in the dark,
yelling for respite from still hearing and
being in the firefight, still seeing the VC,
and witnessing the life breaths leaving
mortally wounded brothers.
Descending into the night's loneliness,
the blue-gray of the t.v. on low volume,
the sobbing of a loyal wife.
Some marriages, families split apart
with crushing sadness,
many veterans homeless on U.S. streets,
such a heartbreaking shame shadowing
over the face of America the beauty.
Surviving veteran's hair becomes snow-white,
war wounds achingly arthritic,
memories of their war buddies still sweetly
preserved in their mind's images.
Vietnam War veteran's reunions as their
bones stiffen, but still salute their brothers
and sisters in arms,
their hats with the name of the war,
the pride of their service.
Many barely out of high school,
with brothers of the same town,
the same state,
so much youth called up,
joining brothers from other regions
of the U.S.
Blessed by God in their fraternity,
their bravery.
The deep red poppies represent their
precious blood.
I remember the 1960's-70's searing
scars in my mind,
weeping for the loss, the hurt in our
hearts over the Vietnam War.
MIA's, POW's,
disappeared as aging families still pray,
still wait.
In the local Veteran's Cemetery,
I met a woman in her eighties,
she was a little confused,
couldn't recall where her Vietnam veteran
son's grave was located.
She told me her daughter-in-law couldn't
bear to visit his grave.
We found his grave,
his name glistening in the dew of
that gentle May morning,
as wrens and sparrows sang on
blossomed boughs.
A chance encounter became such a
gift to honor her son,
and his mother.
To let her know he was not forgotten,
but cherished,
Welcome Home. ~
Bright last quarter, soft, cool moon
Blue-gray sky, sun rising soon.
Pearl-like gem in heaven's row
Lead us to sun's brilliant show.
Morning light on soft feet creeps
Showing us such verdant keeps.
Birds awake and sing their tune
Chirp, chirp at the passing moon.
Great owl sweeps a field for prey
Folks arise, another day.
Daylight grows, hot coffee brews
Soon we'll read the morning news.
Outside air is clean and warm.
On each corner, day shapes form.
Sounds of joy and life, all strong
signalling the waking throng.
Fade fast now last quarter moon.
Soon the sun will see you swoon.
But, at dusk, another eve
There the cloak of night to weave.
Bright Last Quarter
7-9-15
Trochaic
Ah, disperse, dissolve, deploy, aqua vitae,
all through the depth of primal forest rise,
turn the shades of green toward blue-gray.
Soften shades of purple shadows, disguise,
and bath the chill of night with damp display.
Ah yes, rise to treetops and tors, comply,
and hide the prey from predators this night,
blanket the woods in opalescent white.
Eye Contact
Some said he had those scary eyes,
unnerving, somehow seeming to look
clear through, capable of seeing the
truth – of you. They didn’t stare at
you, just sort of found you and held
you in an eerie embrace. There was
a glint to the eyes, a sharpness to
the edges, a weary, and wary, wiliness.
And yet, they drew you in, these cold
and smoldering, blue-gray questioners
of all they see. Tight lines rimmed the
edges of the pools, white tipped lashes
fanning and refocusing the laser looks.
And then they smiled, as if something
had just reminded them of a pleasing
sight, a soft sunrise rose across his face,
a gentle fox to kit wink, an unguarded
moment on the parapet of life.
John G. Lawless
9/16/2014
For PD"S A poem you have not entered in a contest #12 poetry contest
I sit upon the well-worn vinyl couch
and apprehensively await my turn
to see the doctor. Others, deep in thought,
glance up a moment, then resume their worlds.
I scan the room, a mixture of decor-
odd tables, lamps. But now my eyes are fixed
upon the papered wall, a strange design
of rambling shapes. Amid this chaos hangs
a painting filled with imagery of life.
I fall into this peaceful, quiet scene
as graceful birds with arched wings fly above.
Neath blue-gray skies, there winding down a hill,
a brook meanders to the lovely lake,
as nestled buildings on the velvet grass
are hugged by two dirt roads. And there, my love
with horse and wagon, riding to the house-
our home, surrounded by the blossomed trees.
Content within, I happily await-
inside this painting, work of art, of life-
secured within a well-framed boundary,
suspended on a nail upon a wall;
a sense-filled concept, so confined, compact,
divided from the abstractness beyond
its stable, gilded frame of burnished gold.
I hear my name now called, and it's my turn
to see the doctor- and my mind now leaps
outside the gilded frame- into a world
unlike the painted picture on the wall.
May 6, 2016
Premiere Contest: Imagist Any Form
Sponsor: Brian Strand
I remember when we used to meet,
Under the arbor on a cushioned seat;
It was always such a special time,
When I held your hands in mine.
Your eyes were that soft blue gray,
That lit my skies throughout the day;
But they changed into amethyst,
When I sought your mouth and we kissed.
Your tangled hair that ran riot,
Without a ribbon there to tie it;
Tumbles down like streams of gold,
Like a rhyme so softly told.
I remember well your sweet perfume,
That reminded me of the rose's bloom;
When your little feet to me came,
Running soft in spring time’s rain.
The color of the dress you wore,
Crimson red I could not ignore;
Around your neck the snowy lace,
That framed so well your lovely face.
Could we bring back the dream again,
Does the memory hold too much pain?
Has passion past now gone away,
Has love thought it cannot stay?
Just know dear how my heart will break,
The grieving is for both our sake;
But it will find a song I know,
For poet's hearts are broken so.
Foray of explosive sunset —
natural fireworks on display.
A banquet of clouds, rolls in wet,
rolling up their sleeves in melee.
The confusion has its beauty —
thunderous blue, gray and white clash.
Diffusion smacks hued patootie.
Sea of the air throws quite a bash.
Brightly colored dresses behind
this curtain of discontentment.
A leprechaun’s gold, silver-lined —
cloaked rainbow’s tittle presentment.
Drink to me only with thine eyes*
the poet says, stirred as they wade.
The belle’s fluttering lashes sigh.
Are they orange or lemonade?
1/11/2021
Watered-Down Juice Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
Used HMS, 8 syllable lines, 16 lines
*Ben Johnson’s Song: to Celia
She lay upon the chill drying sand
disheveled
lay the brassy gold of her hair
adorned with seaweed
upon her blue gray cheeks
small pink crabs crawl
the ruched red skirt she wore washed
back and forth waist high showing white cotton
chill winds blew drying sand across her open blouse
drying like bits of stardust on her lashes
sand sleepers nest in her open eyes.
While springtime presses in on my thoughts,
forcing me to believe that even the stillness
the clingy silence who drenches my spirit
in rhythms of non-regret, rhythms of pure peace
releasing my soul from the fading feelings,
the emotions that store up broken dreams,
broken hearts, brokenness –
like books to read, someday –
when the time is right, when I don’t feel
so lonesome when I hear the words they write,
the stories they tell – about going through hell.
While springtime pours out her dew drenched feelings,
blessings so gentle, reflecting, sentimental
praying faithfully to the One who created
the winds and the sea, the music so sweet, resting
against the silence in lingering shades of melancholy
blue black Decembers relieve my spirit, restoring me
to the heart of spring,
where I bleed with truth,
intimate stories, pouring
from the night, where stars glisten and the moon listens
revealing the way it is when death descends, like a friend.
While springtime delays my despair, the desperation
beyond compare, dread that feeds on the overcast
skies in blue gray, welcoming the mysterious haze,
releasing me from the time before my soul would find
the meaning of this life,
not in springtime or December
not in the seas or the trembling breeze
not in the seeds of thought we remember
No – it is found in the beautiful knowing
where my soul keeps going, growing
in waves of light, reflections so bright
the stars can’t glisten loud enough
the night can’t see the cloudless, love
the moments are bound up in hope
trusting the One who came to save
the One whose grace God gave
the One who is life
the One who is the sacrifice…
teaching each soul, to let go – to let go
to surrender to His love,
to believe this God above
who reaches out to us, assuring and renewing
completing out lives with a love that is alive
a love that can heal and feel and is so real
a love that comes from knowing
the One whose love is flowing
from the spirit of grace,
His never ending grace!
Oh, Sweet Love! Sweet GRACE!
Dramatic skies of blue-gray clouds,
Before the rains that evening shrouds.
Fresh blueberries, forget me nots,
Bracing waves when the weather's hot!
Twilight bluejay, in search of night,
Prancing peacock, vanity's delight!
The earth itself, and also Neptune,
Ripe juicy grapes of morning June.
Great whales within the matching sea,
The melancholy of smaller tragedy,
Hyacinths and plums of sunshine cheer,
And roses fragrant when you are near!