Best The Blue Poems
Falling down into
a dense, tangled mood
darker than the skies
at the midnight hour...
Leaving me caught
in infinite space
by hands on the clock
that grasp me and pull
to where the time goes...
Out of the blue
water washes the stagnant clouds
drop by clear drop
and the persistent wind
brushes them white again.
All the while, specks of light
appear to shine...
Hues mixing as pastels swirl
with shades much deeper,
diluting them down until
the blues begin to fade away...
Thoughts are suspended
for the moment,
only to float in midair
finally free
and out of the blue.
"Thy Beautiful Heart : The Blue Faery’s Baby"
'Tis brave the heart
of a lionhearted cub
When Butterflies
aren’t pretty
Aren’t all what they seem
Monsters that do steal teeth
from the Blue Faery's Baby
A glass jar full of
plundered
precious Pearls
of White Ivory,
not sweet honey bees
The cub
must remember
the power asleep
in thy magic, the
strength of pure
LOVE
Stand firm clasping it to
thy beautiful heart,
thy beautiful heart -
that was borne
from pure love
all of thy
beautiful dreams
to believe
to dream
red life rosy and real
“Walk with courage”,
she heard her say,
"Soft footsteps always follow,
They’ve never walked away,"
"In thy dreams
I guard thee still,
from wolves
and monks
all monsters -
men and women
gone astray"
In that strange
contained place
that place of the Fey,
both are walking
side by side
together
in pure Light,
a strong power,
in conversation
they hold,
deep of the mind,
the two from the Fey
"All will come good
on the morrow
For the
Blue Faery’s Baby,
there is to be
no more bleeding
Black Sorrow
Love, hear me now,
Time is tumbling
Love - pure and strong,
with all of thy
beautiful heart
Time,
tis no more time,
to be borrowed.
Love's kiss
from a mother's
pure heart
breaks forever and now
the Papillon Spell".
(Lovejoy-Burton, August 2018)
for my daughter,
Georgia -
Close your eyes
when you listen to the music...
it adds more power to the spell.
I am always with you. Always.
ALL my Love - Always.
The Blue Faery.
"Conjunto", Symphony for 8 Cellos
PeterRudolfi, Youtube
https://youtu.be/cKEq56mDLg4
I am with you all the way.
Love, Mum.
- life is precious -
thoughts from the heart
the moon tonight through your eyes
my sky is in your voice
and how i miss you so
AP: Honorable Mention 2022
In the stillness of my room I lay in bed
arms snugged tightly around my pillow
turned side-ways facing moon and light
But it is not the burnt orange moon
but glowing embers in his eyes that warm my vacant night.
Tonight ,I see him just like on other nights
He is the vision in my last waking thought
He breathes within every breeze in my sleep
He rests right beside me holding my hand and dreams.
Tonight ,I recall his soft whisper in yesterdays'path
Sweet -nothings in my ear touched soft-spots of my heart.
I find him in mountains bathing in fresh rain
riding on horses in memory lane.
I watch him get closer calling out my name
Its there when I kissed him , then ran far away.
I see him on earlier days where He has found me
It was love at first sight and instant chemistry .
It was deep affection for a blue collar guy
with dirt on his shirt and an amorous smile.
I smelled poverty all over him ,and on his soaked fuel rag.
Smelled the soap on his skin , and books in his bag.
He passed one to me ,and said it is mine
I made him a pledge that I'd scribble a line.
One line followed others in chapters of time
Chapters of star spumes, sunrise , and sky
Chapters of novels about a blue collar guy.
Inspired by a book I read in my early teens .called 'Mysterious Mountain Man'
Blue velvet was the rose gifted my heart.
Poet was he and blue the blood from his thorn,
a rose as blue as the summer skies
a rose as blue as his ice blue eyes.
Poet was he and blue the blood from his thorn.
So gifted was he with the blue roses form.
a rose as blue as his ice blue eyes,
with thorns as sharp as his beguiling lies.
So gifted was he with the blue roses form
a rose as blue as the summer skies
with thorns as sharp as his beguiling lies.
Blue velvet was the rose gifted my heart.
I sit
at a small table
outside a café.
Along a low
orange wall,
rows and rows
of flowered bushes
decorate
the foreground of
a breathtaking scene.
Out to
a horizon
where sea meets sky
is endless blue.
I inhale
perfect beauty!
Fine wine and good food
are on the way.
Here in the sun
I will revel in
the fragrance of
the red roses
and the freshness
of the air.
A butterfly
alights nearby me.
How simple a thing
yet how divine.
Fly, Butterfly -
Fly out to the bay!
I wish to see
how long I may
keep you
In my sight
before you vanish
into the blue.
July 30, 2016 for Edward Ebb's Anacreontic Verse 4 Contest
Facing the horizon,its those eyes that I see without watching you
Its those those lips that I feel without kissing you
Its those arms I behold without your embrace.
Thoughts of you flood my heart with all the impossible.
On barren sand my lonely footprints
but somewhere in a distant land you walk beside me.
For Brian Strand's Maximum ten line contest.
I was made
To venture undulating time
And chase the tides forever facing forward
Through glinting waves by unknown shores
I migrate
The oceans’ warm currents for
Thousands of miles yearly, continuing
Always onward, always embraced by water
I am
The mighty blue marlin mirroring a sight
Of the blue heavens above, divinely
I was created to breathe and to glide
As this ocean life’s own,
Yet by His magnificent, pure Holy design,
I am
Powerful, challenging, defying death often
I leap
Above the rolling waves into radiant light
As water gleaming streams off my sides
Over the scars of hooks still there by fishers’ tries
I am a blue marlin
Born and destined to survive for decades
In sparkling waves observed by my sparkling eyes,
Loving the eternal swim through His created
Waters that brought our planet to life.
Under the canopy of the pine trees we lay
My brothers and I, and our mates the other three,
They wore a different uniform the colour grey
Yet here in purgatory a smile from them being free
Oh to remember how we all played at the creek
Although their parents with different points of view,
The six of us born within sight of ‘Clinch mountain peak’
Our lot raised to suit the uniform of blue.
We faced each other on the battlefield of ‘Bull Run’
Ne’er a smile of recognition as the rifles reflect,
This is realism in a war of detriment with a gun
Following advice from those in power we respect.
Cannot speak for the others but the bullet caused me pain
Far worse than the wounds with wooden swords when fought,
At least first to go didn’t witness how each were slain
Nor with vigour their efforts from the way we were taught.
So here we are all standing before our beloved God
Waiting to enter heaven having shouldered the blame,
We’ve played our earthly role and carried opinions hod
Never the time to become adult when playing their game.
Thank you Eve Roper
for contest and inspirational first line.
Entered Mark Toney's sponsored
2022 poetry marathon mile 8 contest
poem written 2020
17/7/2022
“Slips the Blue Satine”
Desire bites
a sonnet ripped
where the voice projects
through glossy cherry bit lips
down a telephone line
wrapped around long legs
speaking soft words
welcoming you in like a quilled whip
Freedom bites
a too serious sonnet smiles
then progresses to apply
velveteen kisses where the lips
tie a loose noose of words like pearls
around the sound conduit
curbing the mind
whispering to soft curves,
a roadmap
written across body
eyelids, flushed naked cheeks
neck down to hips
where the key turns
poetry speaks
blood drawn
the heart has teeth
Gaga’s gone
all evolutionary
too much of too much
she denudes the blue Satine easily
divesting all hopelessness of
the hounds barking
their haranguing hangdog habits
superlatives exaggerated
hyperbolical expressions of praise
blessed again in the wasted chronicles of time
her hand’s firmly fixed
around the gear stick
stilettos accelerate sharp
instructions from the driver’s seat
switching gears up
behind the fortune wheel
treasure sits
“pull your head back in”, she says
“the Lotus Eaters
at Loon Junction
are on the prowl,
they’ll tear you to bits”.
"humour me," he says,
"let me off my leash".
(LadyLabyrinth/2021)
“Small Town Witch”/ Sneaker Pimps
https://youtu.be/M6zh5rAlZ18
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Velveteen_Rabbit
Sonnet 106.
The Dilettante Diaries: "Goin' Gangsta on the Road to The Lotus Eaters at Loon Junction" -
https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/the_dilettante_diaries_goin_gangsta_on_the_road_to_the_lotus_eaters_at_loon_junction_1059240
LYRICS/"Small Town Witch", Sneaker Pimps
https://genius.com/Sneaker-pimps-small-town-witch-lyrics
in your arms, i feel as though
the sun will never set,
i am the blushed morning rise
that doesn't rise alone,
i feel you rising as well.
sometimes when i am alone
i question cloudless days
and wonder what if...
what if things were colored gray?
if my hands were only able to trace shadows
rather than the very edges of your soul,
would loneliness trigger me in deeper thoughts
than you or i could ever imagine?
i can't picture my hands empty
aging with time, holding nothing but a dream;
like wrinkled poems falling to the floor
as if never to be read by anyone.
my mind alone could trigger my soul,
pull my fingers back from reality,
press against more than facts
then stop my heart from beating
as i roll the barrel and draw
my last breath of poetry,
alone...
if things were colored gray
aftermath...
going through the motions
in the silence raw emotions
AP: Honorable Mention 2021
write to me in wanderlust waves
of wakeful worship,
weave me a wish
with moon pearls and promises
as I bloom attached
to your aesthetic accent ~
amidst the soul’s pulse,
still questioning ~ quivering,
in need of a colorful
constellation of consolation
to erase the
fickleness of fading flames…
I know, love searches
for your name, breathing
into the warmth of my want,
like verses coursing through
the veins of irreversible ink,
and if, to feel you closer,
I must compose you a cosmos,
let me seize teardrop crystals
of champagne chandeliers
and light up your dusk
with deafening desire ~
recklessly awaiting the surrender
of your sky to my silhouette…
but what would soothsayers
know of the circumference
of a romance immeasurable,
unstudied and unknown
to fortune whisperers
forsaking fortitude and faith ~
yet preaching dissolution
and dissociation,
as if eagle-feathered ego feasts
on the nest that has no place
for the gossamer greed
of maggots,
manifesting mere moments
calculated through concave curves…
watch me waltz away from
the wickedness of bruised bluebirds
thirsting through cheap thrills,
seeking sunlight
beyond the barks of bravery ~
their tiny toes
perched in absolute desperation…
you are mine ~
O herald of hypnotic horizons,
wearing my poetry
perfumed with painless purity…
with you
the handles of heaven are nearer,
as the pilgrimage of you and I
is a visceral vision
of an unapologetic ambience ~
that no twisted tongue can tweak,
nor moulded monologue
can ever distort ~
the truth of tattooed fealty ~
a love letter left in the
arms of timeless flow…
The old upright piano sits flush against the wall,
has been hushed into silence, out on the sun porch
Ignored, neglected, but standing erect
I can imagine it was treasured in its prime,..polished, stylish, and new
But age has turned the varnish yellow
The veneer a bit buckled, the bench has been repaired
with clamps, screws, and Elmer’s wood glue
A relic from another time.
Songbooks are still cradled, but pedals are disabled.
We can almost hear its breath exhale, with tinny-rhythmic sighs
Two white keys might stick,...and three or four are chipped...
And tears, chopsticks, hearts and souls were spilled on ivory seas
If only clocks could turn back time
Mother sitting next to me, side by side, ... our worlds aligned
Keeping the rhythm, over and over, measure by measure,
... playing together the “The Blue Danube”.
___
With her hands over mine, pointing out the key of C
And what I can still see,...so clear in my mind..,
are the blue veins of her hands enveloping mine,
leaning into the waltz, a bit off key
(It needed tuning…It always did. Never mattered. Never will)
I was small. My fingers couldn’t reach them all,
those pock-marked, scarred, and magic keys
But the measure of Johann Strauss would bounce off the walls…
She would hum into my ear…
Her soft brown hair would mix with mine
I could smell Breck shampoo, and feel her breath upon my cheek
And feel the music, soft and sweet, classic light…from that old Upright...
A simple tune…the waltz of time
that has played on and on... long beyond her life
and will play on long beyond my own
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