Best Blueish Poems
Bell-shaped English Bluebells
Violet face of lilac landscape
Charming tints of scarlet
Exuberance of Maple Red
Red, white, upright Tulips
Preening of vibrant spring
Whistling breath of wind
Kisses swaying Daffodils
Laden droplets refracting
Gleam of rose-petal gems
Bluebird’s pine-needle nest
Home of blueish green eggs
Crocus purple flowers
Amethyst glory of jewels
Scented Lilly of the Valley
Blooming white charmers
Rainbow colors of Hyacinth
Jewels glinting window sills
Spicy fragrant Dianthus
Apex of prized decorum
July 4, 2020
Placed 1st: Strand Completely New Poetry (5) Contest
Sponsor: Brian Strand
God shrouded the universe in darkness.
Is there a human or divine side to blackness?
The young dictum's star shines brightly here.
I dream when I look at the stars with calmness.
Despite my utmost level of grief and fear,
In the glittering stardust of a blueish-light, clear.
Were we attracted to the bait or a star?
When I stroll to the beach dark sphere.
To clear the fog from my mental scar.
I savor observing the lighthouse's bizarre
Sky penetration and rivalry of a laser beam.
I reckon I view a gleaming star over a spar.
I designate this as my single-star dream.
I promise myself to you; my one-star to seem.
Boldly shown to gleam brightly in my soul
I hear each pulse of my heart as it streams.
Fathom a single star in the universe to the extol.
I agnize you are my only hope and condole.
One star I could view twinkling with delight.
I shed a tear on a magical night for that dole.
On my birth, you swept from skies with insight.
I'd crave for you to kiss me on my lone, starlit night.
Fear weaves into shapes, the elixir of love.
It focused our psyche life on earth on this site.
You are the light of hope, oh anchorite! Move.
A birth means God can heal us from above.
Guard each itinerary and decompose the ego.
Someone who gave the soul evidence of love.
Written: November 06, 2022
The Only Star For Me Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Mystic Rose Rose
"Ghost Orchid, Violet"
plumes of purple blue
like a burning bruise, spear through my mind
the heart waits for the fall Evermore
with open palms it’s bright core forever calls
the light is blinding like a Ghost
and it holds its fresh petalled orchid stretched out to me,
petals opening the folds of a mind’s ever present dream unfolding
from a shrouded poem, dark embers brightening, a small story glitters
the essence of roasted paper rises
clean and sharp it turns each guache passage
you can hear the pages flip nonchalantly
notes of ink lift the senses like a seductive perfume
plurals write their orchid meanings stretched
volatile pink yet vulnerable across the page
like a revolution violate turning slowly, then,
lights dim and flicker with terrible speed
plumes of purple blue, notes sing blue purple
like a bruise, spearing through my mind
piercing the heart that waits for its fall in strange accords
with open palms the bright core immersed in its evanescence calls
perceived at the shorter end
of the visible light spectrum
a shade of purple with a blueish hue
turns to you, stares you full on
the watchers behind their screens
sit and squander it all
they that think they know it all
bathed in virtuous better off than all
in the end Love
like a ghost orchid calls
like light for lost ships
from some distant shore
violet, it shines,
like the heart burning
its hot bright flame
that dream
that calls you further in
Candide Diderot. ‘25
STARS
Against horrendous darkness fighting for its place.
The stars shine in outer space.
So small are they.
Yet through the darkness they make their way.
Each one so buoyant in the sky.
Lighting the galaxy like a gigantic firefly.
They seem closer yet so far away.
The magic stars harbor even great wizards can't take it away.
With their blueish illumination.
Our nights are pervaded with love and affection.
Light the way for us in daylight.
Always with us through the night.
As they grant wishes.
They make dreams come true within inches.
All of the bleak midnight sky.
Crowded by the abundance of stars up high.
As they fall with beauty.
We call them shooting stars for eternity
Real-Fi Writers
Night emotes in sun whipped sheets,
weaved from rainbow thread.
Blueish greens that shyly wink,
blushing pink to red.
-09 Apr 2015-
Thanks for all the emails asking where I've been. I was in a small car wreck. My 18 year old
took a curve too fast then over corrected twice and I in the back,,,(I never wear a seatbelt in
the back) covered every inch of the back. Im just bumped and banged and the most poetic
shades of blueish reds.
Moral of the story, always wear a seatbelt even in the back, and maybe don't ride with
teenagers.
You guys are like a web family and Ive missed you bunches.
Thanks again, loveudo, Laurie
wind flower buttercup created by goddess Aphrodite
in blueish violet, white, pink, red, or yellow
growing wild, or as a hybrid, you are a beauty
Anemone, “daughter of the wind”
Sometimes, I wish, I simply wish, throughout the day
Musing, on a moonlit night soaked in a blueish essence
You and I, falling short of words. Silence, gone astray
Pastime of eternity, where hearts melt in a confluence
Sometimes, I wish, I simply wish, throughout the day.
Musing, on a moonlit night soaked in a blueish essence
You and I, falling short of words. Silence, gone astray
Pastime of eternity, where hearts melt in a confluence....
dense in emotions, ribbons wrapped in whims
A word or two, wander at times.
You will be mine, one walkway, under the shades of greeneries
You will touch one unmindful chime, rhyme, cascades of tunes
You and I, falling short of words. Silence, gone astray
Pastime of eternity, where hearts melt in a confluence....
If you are there, o muse, to splash once with your touch, gentle
I will cherish the moment, to plead, “Do, o thee, do!”,
once in an up roaring drizzle.
I am a traveler, stranger of your indifferent sacred temple
You and I, falling short of words. Silence, gone astray
Pastime of eternity, where hearts melt in a confluence
Sometimes, I wish, I simply wish, throughout the day.
Musing, on a moonlit night soaked in a blueish essence.
Acknowledgement : Bappa Mazumder
Bangladeshi singer.
Why does the Moon think she is obligated to hide her body from the Earth?
Does she not know her revolving mass entrances our eyeballs to her blueish, gray hue?
Doesn't she know that when she shows her entire body we all marvel at her simplistic natural beauty?
How can she expect us to continually pay attention to her when she purposely fools our light, feeble hearts?
She knows us,
She knows how to turn our emotions into her little play trinkets,
Constantly turning our minds into a pathetic mush forcing us to follow her graceful body around,
Does she think it is okay to show only a section of her texture while leaving the rest of her "confined side" in the bleak darkness?
It should not have to take a spotlight for us people too see what is behind the Moon's impenetrable black cloak,
What do you think we are going to do, exclude you from our existence?
Ignore you?
Did you ever think about how we are side by side with each other every night?
Do you think this is going to ruin our already convoluted broken-down relationship?
No matter who you are or who you portray yourself to be,
We are going to have to by you,
You have become such a big part of us that we could not even survive without your presence,
Are we nothing to you?
We realize, yes, you are all the way up there in the sky looking down at us as if you are on the top of this ghostly cast system, rotating around without stress, surrounded by immense amounts of beauty,
and us "below-class people" are down here in the ghettos of our planet mewling and battling each other in pointless wars,
But that does not means you can undermine us just because your feign personality believes she can,
We have to be able to know you,
How can you believe that this is fair?
You have been given the ability to climb the rocky walls of our true personalities and feeling,
But you have cowardly plugged up all your deep craters with ice and darkness,
We just want to see the other true half of your beauty,
We want to dive deep within those dark abuse marks of your's, scoop out the ice, light up a fire and slowly rebuild you into your original perfectly circular self,
Why can't you understand Moon,
We are trying to help you,
Please,
Reveal yourself to us,
Let us refill those beauty marks of your's,
And prove to us you are more than just a gigantic rock.
-Corey Gordon, 14
You look to your left
I look to my right
Both of us see
An object in flight
It’s silver to me
It's blueish to you
Yet neither of us
Have the slightest of clues
It is what it is
We see what we see
It's blueish to you
It's silver to me
Swimming along with blueish-green waves
the calm ocean is its playground
it stops to have a nibble
wonderous colors show
orange and yellow
a sight to see
pure beauty
Angel
fish.
Copyright © Cynthia Jones
Mar.28/2005
No one loves me
May life come upon us
an empty jar on the table, a blueish cheek
there is only confusion
there is only loss
Why?
No one loves me
May life come upon us
the shadow fades
an instant, a day
there is only illusion
Why?
No one loves me
Soul
a flash, a day
gone with the wind
there is only sorrow
gone with the wind
May the bottomless pit come upon us
No one loves me
Sigh!
12/12/2021
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2021©
The blueish leaf
just sprouted from two spirits
so in-loved.
Sees the world in native eyes,
lonesome lights and sounds.
Wonders of his breathe
of autumn and spring,
free air of life.
Dreams of the world
all around his shallow legs and reach.
No more than three decades
he toured his local islands.
Surf every little sea he can swim
and bathe his soul's joy.
Seek every fellow leaf
to be a partner in his journey.
Love them all,
more than he wish he can do and live.
As part of cycle
the leaf fell before fertile muddy ground.
And a new leaf sprouted
from his wooden surfaced heart.
He saw the first joy he long no more than three decades.
Within the smile of a healthy boy
from his own flesh.
Tried all hardships,
endures all trials
and destructive problems.
Shared all weary tears,
holds all never imagined
parting droughts.
Hid his fear between his two brittle ribs
and sealed it inside.
To protect the people
between his present and sealed past.
For within no more than three decades of life
he travels.
Meeting all different leaf,
he loved and cared all round.
Between his shadowed honor
he kneel before his pride
And speaks his own selfish feeling
and childish thoughts.
For no more than three decades of breathe
he now speaks.
Choose the best of what felt
and you'll never face your darkest regret.
Plan all footsteps
and you'll free yourself
from bloody thorns.
And believe in yourself,
you can endure everything you meet.
In the twilight,
Eilat, seems deserted, some Antofagasta,
Chile's North, before my eyes.
Bordering Jordan not far, there,
where the hills are tinted in blueish-grey,
at the horizon.
A solitary shadow, grey,
the harbour of Aqaba.
Small, distant houses,
scarcely illuminated by a
fading sun.
Some ships in the harbour,
towed side by side like toys.
I am crossing the plains,
some Macchia, some dry thornes,
and a firm sand, giving way to my footprints.
The border: barbed-wire,
sandy hills, a water drench,
with reed growing
in mouldy water.
Here a snake, there a coot,
some water-wagtails – and I,
the only silent creatures.
I scarcely leave any tracks in the sand.
Brilliant, crystals of salt in the
ridges, underneath, slippery, some soil.
I walk over cracked loam,
which is vaulting in edges,
flying off.
It crunches, when I cross it.
High above three planes
circle like big cranes in the evening sun,
flying close to the border.
Wind thrives through the reed,
which is respectfully bending.
There, to the left, an artificial hill,
a plateau, bolders, grey, arranged in a
triangle, and above, Israel's banner,
blue-white, the star of David
with colours already fading and -
some barbed-whire,
carelessly floating in the
wind.
Ahead of me a snake is sneaking off.
A water-wagtail not able to fly
is resting in my hands.
It is good to feel nature,
to inhale silence, to seem unreal,
slowly disappearing in the dark,
like the surrounding nature.
Night brakes slowly now,
with the cool wind from the North.
Stars, like shiny needles in the darkness
piercing the sky, covering me in silence.
My dreams are drifting,
yet caught in the past.
The hard blueish pebbles beneath my feet
make the stony trek to the ocean
a dangerous undertaking.
Barnacles adhere to stones,
slicing at passing feet.
Past the stony beach
the sand awaits.
Beyond sand...
the sea,
blue.