Short Blueish Poems

crystals of snowflakes
glistening a blueish white
magic of winter...

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The morning sky is still blueish
While the festive air feels newish
The snowflakes are falling
Now that Christmas is calling
Such an odd time of year when you're Jewish...

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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”...

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Night emotes in sun whipped sheets,
            weaved from rainbow thread.
           Blueish greens that shyly wink,  
                  blushing pink to red.

                       -09 Apr 2015-...

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They bake in the sun
until their skin is a blueish black
their stomach mimicking the moon
flour, yeast, water, almost a bread makes
they, are the salt of the earth.

( a sort of TANKA - 5-7-5-7-7 words )...

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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....

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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...

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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...

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ZEPHYR

As the Greek God of the west wind
I am Zephyrus, my home is Thrace
Bringing life for the seasonal rebirth
With a neutral colour of blueish plum
I can blow hard but softer than some
Yet vital for growth across this earth
As wind, I’m air but without a trace
Into the East with whom I’m twinned
...

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I've walked up blueish poles. 
Gazed upon beautiful ogres.
Sampled minty auroras. 
Vomited the bleeding, unforgiving cold.

I've waltzed a million lily ponds.
To seek a mirage called bliss.
Despite the perils that swirl
Beneath the horizon of all dreams. 

I've put my face to fire.
To kiss a blossoms' lips.
But in the end was given a muzzle of sweet needles.
-the haunt of scented ash....

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I listen to the streets
they have all the right names
at dawn I stand under the lamps

blueish grey skies part open
the day is welcomed by the warm morning sun 
electric mind illuminate me 
reveal all the answers I need

I continue to walk against the morning clock 
and the street lights hum in tune with me
life is not about wanting it all 
it is about giving it all, 
all in all, the day is young 
and there is a lot to be done....

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She appeared in the middle of a snowflake
Most could not see her, but the fey always can
She flitted around the white snow sprinkling pixie dust
It began to glisten, as twinkly as fifties sequins
Where were her sisters? Had they not arrived yet?
They were along shortly, sprinkling around white glitter
When they were finished the snow had a blueish tint
It was sparkling as prettily as it ever could
The faeries were finished until the next snowfall...

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bounty braces grumbled
humming hoisted hurdle
sassy syllables strained
cremating crumbling crane
rusty rebirth bewitched
rumbling reincarnation enriched

callous colour bruised
blueish orange blooms
dark dual drool

mystic moaning etched'n
punctured pruning crest
smiting succulent breast

voluptuous ordeals vying
taunt smothered smooches.
     '20:04:20:19:38

Note: Of nocturnal nature. Inspired by a picture of the cloud I took this evening....

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