Blue(A) Poems | Examples

List of Member Poems

Premium Member Blue - An Apotheosis of Silence

Written: August 24, 2026, for: Week's Poetry Challenge: The Color Blue

Blue, a zealot turned arrogant,
fervor fading into hauteur,
devotion darkened into disdain.
sapient in its sway,
dulcet as hymns 
and still a shade of seashell.
 
It limns the sky’s scriptorium,
A selfish scroll of sequins 
Stippling clouds with crevice cracks. 
A symbol for suns that sail away.
 
desuetude drapes the shore—
The ocean exhorts 
a savage screech 
a spindle scream 
against scree and stone.

Blue epitomizes arrogance. 
indulgent in its rejection, 
a wicked shade, 
funny but sad, 
a spirit of saudade.

It speaks in sonic waves, furtive, fecund, effete—
a hallucinative hymn unraveling across the horizon.
flecked with fanfare froth
 
 Blue is the ache of elsewhere,
a pertinacity of longing,
an obvious evil,
yet a harvest of comfort—
an ethereal respite,
a lullaby of light.

And silence, salient, settles—
blue bows its zealot head,
a final hush,
the sky exhales,
a lucid lull remains.

Premium Member Crumbling Cardboard

Piece by piece, bit by bit,
biting the steak, drinking the wine,
burying each cutout into its place.

My place in the banquet of life,
just like a puzzle, sometimes
sunshine yellow, sometimes fear,

midnight blue, a little unclear,
smiling when the quagmire
is revealed as a masterpiece.

Tight corners, dire straits,
when observed by passing time,
mere mosquito mementoes.

Souvenirs, those war wounds,
that touch the grandkid’s ears.
Many pieces will be picked up

through their years, as I disappear,
never completely, but eventually 
melding into their big picture,

and so it goes through the generations,
biting the steak, drinking the wine,
reflections of time; crumbling cardboard

refined, sublime, wizened, sharp,
suspended, haloed; will progeny
interlock generations with gratitude?

Premium Member Intertwined in Love

In hues of blue, a bracelet crafted
For the father, strong and true
Threads of cobalt, woven tight
A symbol of love, a guiding light

In crimson red, another strand
For the mother, with warmth so grand
Passion and care, intertwined gracefully
An everlasting bond, unconditionally

And in royal purple, a third to see
For the child, innocent and full of glee
The blending of hues, a family's embrace
Bound together, in love and grace

Each color tells a story untold
Of a family's bond, strong and bold
A bracelet of blue, red, and purple unite
In love and connection, forever bright.


Mrs Gladys Allsopp Jones goes to the Beach

In her sixties now Gladys dreaded the cold,
She travelled to the beach trying to be bold,
She went because it might be fun, she was told.
Gladys said she would not swim she was far too old.

There were gentle ladies with dark glasses on,
They were telling rowdy children to begone,
The sand was warm and the glorious Sun shone,
Gladys sat there like a sad queen on her throne.

Mountains around gave views that went forever,  
The sky was light blue a sign of good weather,
The children throw sand failing to be clever,
But Gladys said no she would not swim ever.

Near the river people had cake and white bread,
They had beef and pork, “hurrah” the children said,
Some drank wine and sang when they were all fed,
Gladys said no she would rather go to bed. 
Gladys was left quite alone on her cane chair,
She began talking to the warm midday air,
I should swim in the sea but I do not dare,
My grey hair would get wet but I would not care.

For the longest time she stared at the wild sea,
Wondering why she was so afraid to be,
Was her life long enough for validity?
Some come to the beach to cocoon and be free,
Others come to escape their life’s misery.

Premium Member A Bolt from the Blue

Out of the blue, a bolt struck from the sky, 
     as angels stood round in a ring of fire.
I clutched the glowing arc, and did not die:
     but I bathed in its holy baptism of fire!

Together, we called down that lightning: I
     reached forth, as infinity and time seemed still.
The shaft of power before our dazzled eyes,
     felt dreadful, eerie, and beyond unreal. 

But star-crossed child of lightning and the Muse!
     What cosmic purpose has the Lord thy God
reserved for thee?—which only life can choose.
     O destiny, so shape it men may laud!

The circled band of angels God has chosen, 
on him their mark may be forever frozen.

Premium Member Daydreamer

A spray of gold, a sunflower flash, 
a feeling, a sinking before the splash.
 
A sea of blue, a sapphire sky, 
a glitter, a twinkle within your eye.
 
A stream of orange, a citrus glare, 
a scent, a smell that lingers on your hair. 

A flood of green, an emerald smile, 
a sigh, a whisper, to make it all worthwhile.
 
A fountain of red, a ruby glow, 
a love, a passion of which no one knows. 

A river of yellow, a sunshine bright, 
a compulsion, a need to hold you through the night. 

A shower of silver, a crystal song, 
a taste, a glimpse, before it's all gone.
 
A wash of pink, a rose descript, 
an urge, a longing to taste your lips. 

A rain of purple, a violet hue, 
a moment, a chance, to say, "I love you."


Premium Member OUT OF THE BLUE

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
out of the blue, a figure appears
     a relic of the past, an old drummer, worn and gray

old drummer's heart still full of fire
     his hands, still nimble, find their way

the park's stillness shattered by sound
     as his drums and cymbals awaken

he beats and pounds, his passion pours
     the music flows from his soul

park's inhabitants gather ‘round,
     a curious throng entranced by his wild, rhythmic song

the rhythm weaves a spell, a hypnotic trance
     the old drummer's music, a moment’s magic

his drums transports, transforms, and transcends,
     a bridge spanning his years

connecting past and present, his laughter, sorrow, and tears
     in this fleeting instant, his world is set right

he finishes, his drums grow still
 the park is silent, but music remains
     a lingering echo, old drummer's regrets and soulful refrains

Premium Member Sky Blue is Difficult to Paint

no color is as difficult to paint because sky blue is from God’s brush
yet we try to recreate it in faded blue jeans, paints and colored pencils.
We have nearly perfected her when we realize we did not even get close.
I laid in the grass today to watch sky blue wondering how to get her right.

She has a cloudy misty milky frothy quality I can neither describe or paint.
I took out other colors and mixed without the result I had been seeking.
Adding glitter glue helped give sky blue a little bit of her pop and fizzle.
I finally gave up realizing that God has His own unique brush and colors.

Wording Blood : specular verse

I word the blood that freed our land

                      breathing opens minds which are 

partly insane

                             popping midnight blue on cue

                                       splattering palms moist

                                       hoisting what is true


onto blank page as unhealed rage

                          this theatre an expanded oyster 

 Pearl becoming translucent 

                             ¥¥

glows pink silver the waiting Pearl to hurl
         
                           theatre seats are empty cold

rage evaporating with poverty 

Truth  speculatively mature

                       palms wrinkled warmly

             cool blue a crying sky afar surfing

insanity protected his Heart  

                          my blood runs a River of Stories 

                             ~~~~~~~~~

Premium Member What Makes You Feel

a signature guitar note out of the blue, a best-loved song unfurls

Premium Member in this silent place

 

Prompt for contest:

"Upon a ridge  In misty blue  A lone tree  Sways in song 
Dew drops   Race   A morning chill   Calls  Upon the dawn
Season's change   Rearrange  A flowers dream   Is gone
A skyward gaze  A quiet place  Reflecting   A long lost song" 

upon a jagged cliff beneath a sky azure blue
a single tree whispers in the wind
rain came with the dawn
the season is changing the landscape
the mornings are now frosty . . . snow will change everything
the wildflowers have lowered their heads to sleep their season gone
I look skyward in this silent place contemplating the change
and each song that rests . . .  as a single snowflake kisses my cheek

Premium Member What Do You Feel

Prompt - 
[] Upon a ridge In misty blue A lone tree Sways in song Dew drops Race A morning chill Calls Upon the dawn Season's change Rearrange A flowers dream Is gone A skyward gaze A quiet place Reflecting A long lost song 


I feel the thrill of word windmill 
Splashing down spine refreshing chill
Of whimsical rhyme making me relive
A simpler time this penning gives

Seasons change just as people do
Who is to blame for being blue
As life as sky as astronomers night
A tune that blooms in hearts in eyes

I feel salty as deep green sea
For it sings softly of lost loving
And I’m coughing up a cold breeze
Pressed roses and coffee comfort me

Emerging From The Woods Onto A High Prominence

The trees crowd in along the broken trail,
sunlight tries to push through, but mostly fails,
straight trunks spread out and obscure distant gaze,
there’s eyes out there, watching, afraid they’re prey.
Ahead a break grows larger with each step,
cerulean against the forest depth,
the summit rock cresting half of the peak,
this vantage sought by many weary feet.
Red squirrels chitter and dash as I emerge,
I want to shout, but I restrain the urge,
swellings of peaks spread out like tapestries,
their secrets hid beneath the endless trees,
a slash of gray where earth cuts through in stone,
Mother Nature is lost without her bones,
then rips of blue, a ribbon swaggers slow
to wild ponds saved by being remote,
marsh meadows near sometimes reveal a moose,
but today only mallards are in view.
Beyond this lies a scar, a bigger lake,
fringed by cabins and docks, stretching out straight,
above it all vultures fly on the breeze,
their slow circles effortless and lazy,
to think such birds get this view every day…
Who knows if again I will pass this way.

Blue: A Shade of Gray

In my boat with a knife
floating on a silent, blue sea
what a serene beauty
bewitched by the cursed one
my boat is drowning 
the moment's grace to draw the knife

climbing up high to touch the clouds
gray mountains are challenging me
my leg slipped, i'm falling down
the moment's grace to draw the knife

for me blue is a shade of gray
happiness is an illusion 
always ending up in the same old cage
where death keeps a hold on my thoughts 
an inner turmoil that is never at peace
poetry i write 
from every dying fragment of me

Into the Blue

Into the Blue

In the shallow waters of innocence, I played
Where joy's gentle breeze rustled sunbeams' golden grain
The world, a vast blue horizon, endlessly revealing
A canvas, where starlight whispered secrets to the soul

But time, a gentle tide, pulled me from the shore
From childhood's safe haven, I ventured evermore
Into the open sea, where mysteries abound
And the blue horizon calls, with a whispered sound

I navigate uncharted waters, where shadows roam
And confront the unknown, in this vast, unexplored home
The blue, a mystery, beckons me to explore
A realm of untold wonders, and unseen shores

Through ocean depths, I navigate my soul
Where waves of wisdom guide me, making me whole
And though the journey's long, and the seas are wide
I'll sail into the blue, where my heart will reside.

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