Best Inspirationalblue Poems
It's not the usual bed time stories book that u expect to see
Beside it all the other tales books on the shelf are well done
The book that make you smile along the pages
Or remind you how childhood had been so much fun
It may seem a usual fairy tale book
So just turn its pages & let's have a look
The first tale is for Pinocchio
The old fairy tale that we used to hear
About a wooden puppet who dreamed of being real
The blue fairy said she could help him if he proved he worth it
Then she could turn him to a real boy no longer a puppet
He only needs to prove he could be brave, truthful & unselfish
Able to tell right from wrong by listening to his conscience
But it seems he couldn't understand any of it
& started to act totally the opposite
But then after a long adventure being such a bad toy
He ended up with donkey ears & tears of a little boy
& all what he got was a poor wooden broken heart
Didn’t know how to end this or why did he make all this start
U could stop at this point, I think you know how the story end
Just try to listen what message it's been trying to send
It's not about being a person or something made of wood
It's about worth being real or not
U may be breathing but are you real
Or you are turning to be wooden & u can't even feel
With a little help of the blue fairy, bravery & truth
Without being yet real without searching for an excuse
The puppet strings no more belong to Pinocchio
So if you don’t worth being a real person then those strings belong to you
In blue jeans and bare feet
Dancing to a dreamer’s beat
A wild spirit soaring free
Believing in something no one else can see.
One step to the left
Then slide to the right
Chances aren’t written in black and white
Boldly cruising down life’s highway
Driving courage come what may
Conquering each hill with a sense of pride
Searching for that place where destiny can’t hide.
Two kicks to the front
Then turn around
You can’t see your dreams by looking down
Working hard for that pot of gold
Playing a hand that you just can’t fold
It’s the simple things you learn to love
The quiet song of a Morning Dove.
Shimmy to the left
Then shimmy to the right
The warmth of a smile will be your guiding light
Seasons come and seasons go
But the magic of life continues to grow
The road less traveled features the unknown
With every twist and turn carved in stone.
Two steps forward
And one step back
Don’t let your dreams fall through a crack.
In blue jeans and bare feet
Dancing to a dreamer’s beat
Like an Eagle soaring free
Believing in something no one else can see.
My Moondust said to me….
At the waters’ edge
Of a stream, running free
Beware the Dark Blue World
You are not ready
I fixed her with a quizzical eye
She smiled softly
Faeries have always known
Of things beyond
For now…
My love
Let it lie
The Dark Blue World
Knows of you
You know not of futures made
Past
Here and now
Of paths, laid
The path to travel
Is not yet made for you
Only with me
Can you be guided safely
Soon
Under an Autumn moon
We can see
Everything in the Dark Blue World
what it means to me
The Master Artist Pt 1 --Pt 2--the ending, is the next posting
The artist’s tray was loaded with colors, each pastel waiting for its turn:
Hues of indigo blues lie impatiently, sparks of carmine seemed to burn.
While English chrome colors lay in anticipation for the Master’s touch.
The yellow ochre pansies readied to fill the void on the painter’s scene.
Each hue was waiting for its turn but chosen first was the yellow green.
Winds blew lightly against the canvas and upon each color that he lay
Each sound had a melodic lilt as the grass seemed to grow and sway
Under a fountain of colors, each strike radiant upon the colored field.
Cerulean blue skies lightly painted waited for a stray, pearl-grey cloud
To float above the lively meadow, yet no spring rain would be allowed.
The artist was tired, yet couldn’t wait to return quickly the next day.
Morning came and his fervent fingers reached for the pastels that lay
Undiscovered upon the palette—more hues waiting for their chance.
He painted a sapphire blue creek moving snake-like up then down.
The artist smiled wisely, painting groves of trees of Van Dyke brown.
Afternoon came and pastel shades were glazed upon the flowing water
As the creek rippled over the violet stones painted on by the Master.
He seemed to lose all sense of night and day as each hue told a story.
Colors flew from left to right and the meadow seemed to come alive
Ruby hues were topped upon the phlox as fragrant flowers did thrive.
His hand would not cease until he had painted the bluebird at its song.
The misty meadow was melodious as he painted crickets to sing along.
The artist looked upon his growing scene and knew what it still needed
But his hand was weary and the pastel scene would wait another day
For colors that still lay brightly unused upon the Master Artist’s tray.
The next day he painted against the sky purple hills gently sun-kissed.
His hands worked with great passion as twisting trees seemed to tryst.
Pastel colors floated upon the land as pink butterflies flew here and there.
Sounds of songbirds were singing as his meadow seemed to nearly burst
With every color and every hue that the great artist had fervently dispersed.
Part Two has the Master Artist poem ending that I posted after this one--
(PoetrySoup doesn't allow enough space)
Move ahead in new year
Blink the past adverse
Go beyond heaven.
Fire the desire into dreams
Never look down the past hell
But embrace change of time.
Press on a better New Year
Achieved them in the paradise waterfalls
In your peaceful mind.
Eagle fly in the highest blue skies
Never fly with the turkeys.
The road the best New Year.
Starts with a blue print map.
Great planner wins the battle
Over sudden assail vulture and wolf attacks.
New Year synchronous achievements
New Goal.
New Action.
New Organizer.
New Dreams.
New Environment.
Think and grow.
Turn the page last year.
New Year.
I lost touch with myself in the starry blue sky
When it all seemed like a gloomy day coming to stay. When the dog didn't smile and the
children didn't play I hid myself in the starry blue sky cause that's were dreams never die.
I hid myself in a flowery meadow when life wasn't my choice and no one seemed to care why.
I hid myself in there to create my own world were all was good and kind for a moment in time.
And when I simply wanted to give up I looked to my magic mirror where my future self was
waiting to give me all I wanted. The treasure I desired and the life I required If only
I'd hold tight to what I really wanted in life.
~ (~) Same way you learn-you abide if when able first you are given-the chance, I know this
one here coming today knows, as the rains fall moments slip on by the poor and wealthy...
faithful, life is-good-yes... . "Bartering nothing; offering everything... ." (~) ~
~ (~) I wonder of Jesus as a child His precious temperament-of spirit but I truly cannot
ever doubt it. Always reaching out still-tender-tending to-the helpless nature of His-
Fathers flock of sheep-ever-aware-in-death-crying-out bless-them-Father they know not
what they do. (~) ~
~ (~) Life God-builds it up-time wears-it down as it grows goes-along faith-securing the
prayers-of-the lowly mantis-watching the-grasshoppers hopping-flying-by-side-by-side-
sighing-under-the-patient homage of the Sun... . God's mercy abiding beholding upholding
their spirit time the groundhog rummages-around-under the weeping willow the reflection of
honor no-doubted-indebted to be their teacher. (~) ~
~ (~) Like the blue birds are blue kill dears run their troubles far away from-the-safety-of-
the-nest just as always-venturing-soaring-higher-and-higher we are all but dust tossed
around like leaves in the wind. (~) ~
~ (~) "And so because-bold winds-rave just-as with-leaves-love... redeems... ." (~)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aueJ01JByfY
Clouds Are Transitory
by Rick Rucker
At times, to keep the blues away,
I remember that the sky's not gray,
It is blue, and bright, and clean,
A truly idyllic scene,
It is, like we say, “Nothing but blue skies from now on.”
Once the intervening clouds are gone,
The sky is blue, and will always be,
For him and her, and you and me,
The clouds are there to make us see
Just how drab our lives would be,
Without blue skies, to lift our hearts,
To help us to pursue the arts
Would artists paint, and writers write,
If the sky were not so bright?
I don't know, and I don't care,
Because blue skies are always there!
Blue,
If happiness was a color,
It would be blue,
As blue as my bright blue eyes,
When I look upon the dark blue skies,
If blue was a taste,
It would be just like eating blueberries,
If blue was a feeling,
I would turn the blues into happiness,
Finding out someday I will be in heaven,
Filled with happiness and singing with angels,
If blue was a sound,
I would want to hear that trumpet blow,
And have God take me off these grounds,
What if happiness was blue?
Would you choose blue for happiness to?