O greenish blue neighbour of mine
across my kitchen window, sunning in shine
perching very high on the doctor's house fig tree
resonating your tunk...tunk louder than metronomic glee
Saw you today, puffing your yellow throat,
the silk floss petals plucking with your hand glove
bobbing your red head and flicking bluish tail,
have you tracked a sincere mate?
have you picked a red berry or two for your consort,
hope allopreening is not building on snort?
what about fluttering your blue grey black wings side by side ?
start a "Beak Game" in a full stride?
Keep flight straight, with rapid flaps
Be away from that, extortionist Blue-throated barbet
avoid flying klepto red-vented songbird,
eyeing at your red berries and burd.
PS:A coppersmith (barbet) , very old next tree neighbour, annoying sometimes by her incessant calls ,many times reminds me that that is how a life goes on
He lies on his bed in the rest home -
the old man that nurses all there
have given the nickname Old Pickle.
(Of course they've seen beneath his underwear.)
Like greenish blue cheese
bulge the veins of his legs.
By this stage of his life,
he wished they were pegs.
He once was as smooth as mozzarella,
melting every woman with his smile.
Now his body is crumbling away.
His smell is somewhat barn-yarn vile.
Old Pickle loves the pretty nurses.
Amazingly, he can get it up still.
Bemoaning his looks, he lies in his bed,
wishing it weren’t all such a big dill.
We danced quickstep before the storm
my pups eager -- eyes wide
we raced in the rustling grasses
the early winds whispering beware to the trees
then the rushing air and the sky drumming began
the crows watched cawing hidden in the pines
the birds chirped and swore as the wind began to roar
the trees swayed and beat against each other’s limbs,
near the thundering waves of the east cliff drive
the ocean whipped its greenish blue hue into white foam
there is thumping on the roof now
as the ice blue sky becomes cobalt electric air
the birds grow quiet hiding in green sanctums
there is moaning, and a fearful snapping of the boughs
oh the howling winds
the dogs and I now silent in the house
in awe hiding in the most distant space
That oddly shaped bedroom
To the left of the staircase
The greenish blue carpet
Against a bed skirt of lace
The worst hue of yellow
Snug tight on my mattress
Opposite the mirror
Where I became an actress
If I close my eyes tight
Give control to my perceptions
I’ll bring in to sight
My Shirley Temple collection
My play kitchen table
With two plastic chairs
My mom sits on one
As I style up her hair
If quiet enough
I’ll hear giggling girls
Rolling wet hair
To wake up in curls
Back down the stairs
The carpet turns brown
A dish of fake pears
The clock’s chiming sound
A typewriter is present
But not a computer
It’s simple and pleasant
Like my motor less scooter
In the den, I will find
Two, worn, mauve recliners
Yes, I’ve traveled time
A Delorean rider
One last thing to Check
Before heading back home
I race to the deck
With a box of milk bones
I close my eyes tight
And concentrate hard
Til the most wonderful sight
Appears in my yard
My childhood pal, Muffin
Chasing his tail
Kiss, kisses and loving
But then I must bail
I loosen my grip
And open my eyes
A quick, lovely trip
Has met its demise
My Heart fell into the sea
it floated above a wave
it past a ship of many
than drifted into a cave
there were a pair of eyes
that followed it to a reef
greenish blue one brown
their visit very-brief
from the many a fallen man
He swallowed the salty sea
My heart began to pound
Within seconds a golden key
Above the sea he floats
My heart led by the eyes
The golden key awaits
The fallen man now dies
The key lies on his heart
Eyes greenish blue one brown
The key turns back the time
Before the man has drowned
My heart now beets as his
The fallen man awakes
He swims back to the ship
The many cheer good sake
Marigold Oger grew up without a mama, this pretty girl with eyes of greenish blue.
Because her mama died unexpectedly in the middle of a dark wet night when she was two.
We met in middle school after we kept laughing at the teacher’s idiocy at the same times.
I sort of have ADHD, the moron told us. “I’m off my meds, but the school board thinks I’m fine.”
By the end of this teacher’s class, Marigold and I were thick as brother bears.
She could spend Friday nights at my house, and she did; we practiced a lot of interesting swears.
She’s a bad influence, my mother said, relieved, when Marigold’s family moved 5.4 hours away.
Thanks to Facebook, we got reacquainted forty-one years later, and we have more in common every day.
Red on red, like a candy apple
Her red face looked tomato red
Blotchy as Philadelphia scrapple
Agony, anger, lots of dread
The face of a woman obsessed
With a madman’s crazy day
She wanted to escape, fly away
Gray on gray, smoke won’t go away
I don’t know what I can really say
I think I might need a bullet proof vest
For if I linger I may be laid to rest
And vultures will fly over my head
Thru the smoke to be gladly fed
Blue on blue, does anyone have a clue
What causes the greenish, blue flames
To travel thru the lives of me and you
In a land divided in two by red and blue?
We are also torn between will and must
Confusion covers us like rust and dust
She had ten little fingers
and ten small rosy toes
she wore a gorgeous smile
and a little button nose
she laughed the sweetest laugh
and her skin was soft and fair
around her face, dark ringlets
she got my curly hair
she had her daddy's eyes
a vibrant greenish-blue
she was my little girl
that never made it through
By Morgan Mise
Written November 3, 2012
I think of a ladybug on a rail
I think of a flowerfly by a fingernaill
I think of giant windmills and the sky
I think of a close up, a greenish blue eye
I think of sparkly stars in the water and sweet kissable feet
I think of who they belong to and im so happy that we would meet
I think of two people in love, two faces in a mirror
I think my heart and soul, couldnt see any clearer
I think of rocks in the water and the sun
I think of You. . .because your the only one.
Stunning, unique shade of blue,
blue-green,
greenish-blue,
sea-green like the ocean,
Mediterraneon blue,
the brightest blue,
unique and special in its tone and sea view too.
Sir Rule, Ian Ballew and Ock, a marine
set off on a houseboat to study
the difference between greenish-blue and bluish-green.
The deep blue sky on that fog-foggiest of days
they mistakenly thought was the sea
which explains why to us, when they saw a green haze -
Ian whooped, "It's a film on the water!" And so...
Sir Rule smirked, "Ock, go get us some popcorn and Pepsi."
Ock started to cuss, "---, why do I always have to go?
Since blue means profane and if naive spells out green,
Who wins the Oscar? It's not hard to see -
greenish-blue, naively-profane - Ock, a marine.
or if you prefer:
bluish-green, profanely-naive - still Ock, a marine.
Author's Notes: The names in this piece are puns for the colors, cerulean blue and aquamarine. No reflection on the hard working Marines who serve our country so well.
A canvas washed with pastel hues
In palest pinks and liquid blues
Perfection seen through Monet’s eyes
Recounting where his genius lies
The lilies floating on the lake
The water, greenish blue opaque
A fluid mix of subtle tints
A flowing dream with fragile glints
This work of art from sable brush
Perception, depth, a hazy blush
This masterpiece both cool and warm
All bound up in poetic form
To gaze in awe, to stand and stare
To find oneself transported there
The tranquil view, unbroken, whole
Will heal the heart, rebuild the soul
The peace, the calm, the beauty rare
The artist’s gift for all to share
Margaret Foster- 21st September 2011
as though from some
underground crypt,
a cold draft
from the fridge chills
his bloodied hands
in the quiet night
that's turning slow
from greenish blue
now to indigo;
briskly rubs his palms,
knobby fingers with
sudsy soap,
plunges them into
a white plastic pail
of black water
under the the yellow
glow of an old
electric bulb;
reflected light bobs,
leaps and mutely
screams
in the violated water,
struggling, as if
to be free;
clean hands sleep
as guiltless
as can be!
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