Posted tagged ‘Blue poem’


August 15, 2014



One’s heart is broken.
One’s heart is a well that neighbors call down,
searching for a lost child,
the mother held back
in the house.

It is a white frame house,
where someone paces kitchen
to living room,
a swell below the door sill
where the floors meet.

The heart looks out to the horizon, worrying
as night falls,
as the lawn that turns to field that turns to sky
turns to cobalt,
though the heart loves
that deep blue;
though the heart, when it can breathe,
loves blue.


Here’s very much of a draft poem for Herotomost’s prompt on with real toads in honor of Leo, to write a poem that comes in like a lion, leaves like a lamb.  I’m sorry I’ve been a bit behind returning comments.  This has been a very job-intense summer for me.

P.S. – photo is mine–all rights reserved, as always.

Pps have edited since first posting.

Blue (in 55)

December 7, 2013



Blue, I think in cobalt.

Cerulean smiles. Prussian, well, takes charge.

But cobalt colors waves’ sink, glass pretending darkness
will save it from break, the near-night sky,

I do not know
how the footfalls of approaching night
are found in rock salt, sindered.
Only that, when sky fixes
in the buried, oceans are



Cobalt is a wonderful deep blue made of salts of alumina, sindered, meaning heated very hot. It is used in making pigments, but also for a deep blue glass, and the blues in Chinese porcelain. Cerulean and Prussian are other blues–55 packed into one for the G-man--also for Sam Peralta of dVerse Poets Pub.