The Color Blue
A blue rinse enhanced her short-cropped hair,
eyelids heavily coated with frosty blue shadow.
Bright blue nail polish drew attention to her gaudy rings.
The blue dress she wore clung tightly to her voluptuous body.
Moonlight shone on the blue fringe of his tallit
which lay, discarded, on the counterpane.
Blue exhaust trailed from their departing car.
The stanza was written in trailed off silver, circle over circle was wound to form silvery words, embossed around them though the palace sheltered paintings of razor-thin wings bespeckled with blood imprisoned sonnets that zip and fly with the hub, palatial and so endearing, the disembodied whispers are like paint peeling.
Opening the door to an unscripted way,
I journey into the day,
Guided by a blooming ray,
I hold onto hope and pray.
I walk into the daylight,
Though I am trailed by the night,
I am aided to fight,
By something beyond sight.
I may not be in full bloom,
I may be weary from the gloom,
Spiritual songs pervade my room,
Freeing me from every fiery fume.
Life is a vast field,
Where dutiful hands gather the yield,
Doggedness holds the shield,
As I navigate all that life may wield.
June 29, 2026.
Once. we trailed a lush forest
Of sweet desire and fiery embraces -
Where writings of eternity strayed
And a riot of fireflies
were circling
Right under a golden narra tree.
Twilight carried us, high up
a Manila moon,
Casting its glint ...we were eternal as time
Throttling off with endless schemes --
One by one, the petals bathed us
With a dewy scent of affection...
Until pile of leaves caught
Our laughter snuffed by thieving winds--
And you fell on a mantle of reeds
Chilled freezing from
a final sense of unknowing :
I remember... that was two decades ago
When all the flowers bowed
As You and I parted as pale shadows,
When love's vow of forever
melted like trickles of clay...
This is where we lost it
This is where we parted
Life usually has a passkey
Living has its code
With every twist and turn
unveiling a new chapter
revealing a lifeway
She walked half the way
He trailed off the path
fainting with a broken will
Both fade off the trail
Bingo, my most loyal pup,
she popped up whenever my mood was down,
to mop up the grief in my silence
with a gulp of my tears seasoned with brine.
Wherever my feet led, she trotted,
night and day, she trailed my shadow.
Her lids never closed till she heard my snore
and up in a flash at my first morning yawn.
One day she followed me to school—
we both planned it without my Mum's consent,
I walked ahead, she darted in front and back of me—
and everywhere around me with joy.
First time crossing the expressway,
she roamed the yard till the watchman chased her out,
we waved goodbye—her final one—
before a car crushed her on the way back home.
You said it’s just the night relax unwind
But whispers cut like static through the mind
You said it’s just the kids the jokes the play
But footsteps trailed and never walked away
You said it’s just the wind behind the door
But air grew thick and colder than before
You said it’s just the moon the silver haze
But every street was smoke and phantom blaze
You said it’s just the dark it hides the town
But eyes lit up when all the lights went down
You said it’s just a dream the fear the fun
But dawn came slow and found the street undone
You said it’s just a tale forget move on
But some of us still swear we heard that song
You said it’s just one night it fades by noon
Then something laughed beneath the dying moon
History remembers the night that trailed us,
It remembers the bus that carried some of us to the unknown,
It remembers the darkness that stood at the door,
It remembers the light that paved a way for us.
History remembers the beating of drums that awakened the good spirits,
It remembers the call that summoned the elements of the day,
It remembers the unrelenting battle against unseen strangers,
It remembers the watchmen who encountered those emerging from the chambers of the night.
History remembers the unrest and turmoil,
It remembers those who journeyed across the sea in search of a homeland,
It remembers the ruins and ashes that the sun rises to mourn,
It remembers those who longed for a return.
History remembers the songs of sorrow sung for a grieving land,
It remembers the nightfall that swiftly descends,
It remembers the homeless and helpless,
It remembers the prejudiced and disparaged.
October 23, 2025.
I see a new me,
It’s the emergence of twilight,
I’m trailed as I sail,
Across an ever-changing sea.
October 13, 2025.
Nette Onclaud,
Create A Cuatro Poetry Contest.
They walked with me across the bridge,
Holding onto the sides to keep it steady.
I took careful steps,
But they assured me that it was firm.
I walked across unhurt.
They accompanied me through the meadow,
Where I was afraid of the taunting shadows.
They promised to brighten their lamps,
And the light dispersed the shadows,
Leaving us no longer trailed by the night.
They journeyed with me through the mire,
Though I feared the depth beneath us.
They held my hands and lifted me,
And as I looked to my right and left,
They smiled at me,
So I navigated through the muck but didn’t sink.
They travelled with me across the sea,
They carried me on their shoulders.
When we reached the middle of the sea,
Suddenly, they disappeared.
I fell, plunging into the depths,
Struggling to rise to the surface.
As I sank, I saw an approaching hand,
And I remain within this vision.
September 1, 2025.
from the I-shaped metal
we set sail to the ocean
with a pirate crew over dozen
as lightning struck and tide crashes
to go over the horizon together
has always been the X mark we trailed
then there's the cannon boring hole
and the mermaid's enchanting call
to a single pebble, tied to a rugged rope
we drift away to the sea
some survived remained ashore
keeping stone to be afloat
being a rock is to keep adore
a new ship, as the old one's sunken
with few and enough crew
despite the artilleries and the abyss pull
My little guy to my happy surprise
is with me still and very spry
His heart pills keep him ticking on
personality of his still is strong
He loves to growl and bark all day
for him it is the way he plays
the thing he loves most of all
is when I scratch his chest he is enthrall
It relaxes him and keeps him calm
never enough keep scratching on and on
The old guy walks the perimeter of the fence
sniffs to know whose been whence
About every couple of feet or so
Genghis lifts his leg and lets it go
He makes his mark to claim it all
and mosey about walking tall
Old Kublai used to follow him on his tail
mark over his mark as Genghis he trailed
As if he had to mask Genghis's scent with his own
for Genghis's claim Kublai disowned
I miss my Kublai they were a funny pair
But now I have sweet Sassy dear
She sits and watches Genghis from finish to start
as that silly old boy, Genghis makes his mark.
Lirena was a songbird born of yore
Who dearly loved her husband everyday;
She sings her songs of contentment no more.
An adversary’s troops ransacked the shore,
A ruthless marauding they did display;
Lirena was a songbird born of yore.
Her loving husband whom she did adore
Abducted mercilessly from the fray;
She sings her songs of victory no more.
She trailed the captor’s ship on raft with oar,
Enduring stormy gales and restless waves;
Lirena was a songbird born of yore.
Making landfall, sprinting upshore,
In tearful attempt to plead and persuade,
She sung her people’s secret song of yore.
But the Adversary had no remorse,
Her beloved was already in decay.
Lirena is a songbird of long forgotten lore;
She sings her songs of compunction forevermore.
Dawn in the cathedral,
Hearts at Zion's Gate,
They converge to inquire,
To seek the light.
Darkness has trailed them,
The strange lurks around,
Nightfall harbingers the eerie,
They are unseen invaders.
Mystery blankets the land,
Murky waters run through,
Shadows walk at midnight,
These the sages foretold.
Before the morning light,
They gather to pray,
To seek the Divine,
In the pristine cathedral.
January 29, 2025.
I’m thankful for life,
It hasn’t been a journey without strife,
Navigating the unknown has been an experience,
One that has both torn and mended me.
I’m thankful for the Divine light,
It has guided me through the night,
The unknown has walked into my room,
And I have been trailed by gloom.
Oh, for the Light of lights that has illuminated my nights,
Oh, for the guiding hand that has walked me through my dark days,
I’m thankful for the person I am becoming,
Hope says better days are coming.
November 4, 2024.
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.