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.
light lovely lithe luxurious swallowtail
flitting and fleeing among the zinnias
a zealot, zealously zipping amidst the gale
glancing gracefully at the gardenias
Q: What is avian forensics?
A: Ornithology pathology.
Q: What's the name of Adam Levine's band when they appear in concert?
A: Maroon Five Live.
Q: What is a submarine that only goes forward?
A: An irreversible submersible.
Q: What was a really fanatical peasant in ancient Greece?
A: A zealot helot.
Q: What kind of small pet dog gets carried around in a designer handbag?
A: A Gucci poochie.
Q: What would you call a consumer review of one of Benjamin Franklin's inventions?
A: A colonial testimonial.
Q: What's another name for a woman's "muffin tops"?
A: A girdle hurdle.
Q: If characters are an author's progeny, what does that make "Dorian Gray"?
A: A Wilde child.
Q: What rules of conduct were Senators in ancient Rome supposed to follow?
A: Forum decorum.
Always remember to pack the essentials,
Bat, Bottle, Bag, Boots,
Cut down anyone who tries to get in the way,
Don't look them in the eye, it only makes it harder,
Enemy, everyone is the enemy, yes, even them,
Find what you can, anything, you'll need it later,
Get up, you don't have time to rest, not yet,
How have you survived this long?
Imagine a better world, running water, safety,
Jokes are the only thing keeping you going,
Kill or be killed, even when its all over,
Like an animal, lose yourself in the fray,
Most of them aren't even people anymore,
Notice how they don't look you in the eye,
Only you are left, Only you can rescue them,
Persevere, soon it'll all be back to normal.
Quick, you have to run, to escape,
Run, run, doesn't matter to where or why,
Stop and you are dead, run, run,
Today is the day, its all over, you can't escape-
Unless you remember the ABCs,
Very good, recall everything I've taught you,
When the end finally comes and its all over,
Xenial little thing you are, listening to me.
You will be safe from the onslaught,
Zealot of the new world order.
Zany zealot
Fervently on fire
Enthusiastically single-minded
Fanatical and furiously frenzied
He tries to convert everyone he meets
He cannot get a job, has had twelve interviews
We cannot help him, he is a selective listener
If it does not fit with his schemata, he does not hear it
As believing Christians doubt
errantly forgetting God,
He intercedes judiciously,
kindling love mid narcissism.
Our Paraclete,
quenchable, resident Spirit,
teaches us vital wisdom
xenolith, yokefellow, zealot.
Look in their Eyes
Who do you believe? Look in their eyes.
Is there the gleam of zealot or fanatic,
Or opposition to a pack of lies?
Do you see a sane man or a lunatic?
Do you hear the bluster of a liar
Who thinks by talking big he will seem strong
But only manages to stoke the fire
By saying what we know is right, is wrong?
Or do you see a man of strong belief,
A man of honesty and selfless principle,
Whose freedom would be stolen by a thief
Whose hubris makes him think himself invincible?
The day of judgement comes, the future’s beckoning;
We’re hurtling headlong to a day of reckoning.
"One word frees us of all the weight and pain of life. The word is love."
Sophocles, Greek Poet
If love was a metaphor for flowers,
our souls would rejoice in April showers.
Foundations nurtured by amorous hands,
would prepare rainbow colours on bland lands.
Romance of spring would bloom like daffodils,
yellow, white and gold shades of zealot thrills.
Solace of tulips would soothe in fresh air,
red, orange and pink tones dancing with flair.
Lovers of the sun would worship its zeal,
as its selfless nature helps cold buds heal.
When stalks start to wilt from ardent burdens,
sow new seeds to rejuvenate gardens.
Life can be toxic, breeding weeds like hate.
To attract bees, spread nectar to ease fate.
A land of squeaky-clean beauty, green-carpet trails-reaches,
Natural fountains, streams, rivers, seas, and freshwater lakes
Chinnereth, land of the gentiles, and the way of beaches
Pristine gem stones like rocky, hilly, and mountainous flakes
"How beautiful are the feet of them that preach the gospel -
of peace, and bring glad tidings of good things!" It's there, indeed.
He walked, bearing good news as Yahweh's true apostle.
Heeding the cries of human beings, he fulfilled their need.
Peter, James, John, Andrew, Philip, Judas Iscariot,
Matthew, Thomas, Judas the Thaddeus, Bartholomew,
James, known as the son of Alpheus, Simon the Zealot,
All flocked from lands and costs, finding in him a newer view.
Like brothers and comrades, they ate, fasted, slept, prayed, and preached.
All who witnessed this felt that God's kingdom on earth had reached
. . . I stoned the lord of death to death
we lye, now, side by side
as
effigies of who we tried to be
among countless
revolutions
among countless
massacres
evaporating into mixtures
of all who passed
that day, united
beyond soils of new shoots
I, a deserter
I, a warrior
I, a beggar
I, a zealot
with the lamb
gathering stones . . .
past passions passed parting
present pains pleasured prolonging
love's longings lowered lingering
world's weight winded waiting
sadness's solo silenced singing
freedom forgotten feared freezing
brittle bones bruised breaking
taciturn tears tattered tumbling
mind's memory mangled melting
reason's remnants ruined remaining
kneels nobody nighted knowing
gutless ghosting gathered grimacing
careless cacophony caged constructing
mammon millions murdered meandering
demons divinity damaged dividing
hearts heads hooked hungering
chastised children chunked chasing
betrayed bought banned burying
jingo jeering jaded judging
kindness kisses kindled killing
quiescent quakes quieted quivering
vapid verses vanquished vaping
words' world wearied wounding
zealot xenophobe zeroed zooming
past passions passed parting
present pains pleasured prolonging
love's longings lowered lingering
world's weight winded waiting
sadness's solo silenced singing
freedom forgotten feared freezing
brittle bones bruised breaking
taciturn tears tattered tumbling
mind's memory mangled melting
reason's remnants ruined remaining
kneels nobody nighted knowing
gutless ghosting gathered grimacing
careless cacophony caged constructing
mammon millions murdered meandering
demons divinity damaged dividing
hearts heads hooked hungering
chastised children chunked chasing
betrayed bought banned burying
jingo jeering jaded judging
kindness kisses kindled killing
quiescent quakes quieted quivering
vapid verses vanquished vaping
words' world wearied wounding
zealot xenophobe zeroed zooming
Fragrance in moonlight
traveling the moonlit miles
devout daffodils
Sunshine zealot, and later
the thrill of the starlit hills
Shades yellow and cream
and orange and rosy pink
plum daffodil night
Romance is in the charmed air
in galaxy unaware
Gone are the bright heroic heads waving along the highway,
Once so psychedelic in their vibrant, vivid display.
Only to wilt and die during the scorching summer,
Diligent first, by sowing seeds for any future newcomer.
Busy modern mowers deadhead the wavering brilliance.
Yesterday’s showy walkdown modulates their efflorescence.
Each brave blossom catches my eye as I mourn the array.
Spring’s dramatic demise leaves a monochromatic palette,
Promoting promises of harvests that stimulate my palate.
Regal raiment of tastes and smells overcomes my loss,
Instilling, rather, exuberance for salad greens to toss!
No mourning for what is past, as Summer now is boss.
Glorious Spring is gone, but I am a zestful Summer zealot
The Sardauna, the prince
Champion of the masses
The leader of the North
The defender of the realm
Princely yet accessible
The Prince Royal
The north your realm
Though tribe and tongues duffer
You still make the difference
Portrayed as a northern zealot
Of the scion of Usman Dan Fodiyo
Royal turbans in purple array
A great thinker and visionary
Achievements so colossal and huge
Colloquial rantings so high yet can't
be denied
Institutions still blazing the trail
Posterity have seen your travails
The Sardauna, the Northern Prince
Decades have come and gone
None in the northern realm holds your sway
Selflessness your true identity
Legacies intact, history made
Posterity the true judge
None have your charisma
Nor your impeccable persona
Those that took after you have all
gone astray
Going after the god of mammon
They are all pretenders
To the crown of your realm
With trending events these past decades
There is none in the realm that holds your
sway.
The Sardauna the Northern Prince
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