Another Blue
CXLVII.
If a person's favorite color is blue,~ blue tends to dominate the selections and surroundings of the person's life, with one more 'Blue' always still missing and needed for completion! __nhh
. . . .Lady Lists the Blues
Blue bells, blue skies,
Bluebonnets, blue stairs,
Aqua-blue butterflies.
Can't have too many blues.
Cornflower eyes, leather chairs,
The Blue Suede Shoes.
Blue jeans, blue cars.
Of course, blue funks
And twinkly blue stars.
Famous Blue Willow;
Blue swimming trunks!
Favorite blue pillow!
Blue moon, blue crystals.
Royal blue bloods
With steel-blue pistols.
Gloomy deep blue moods,
Bright blue flower buds,
Scarlett’s blue net snoods.
Our whirling blue planet
On the edges of space
Of slate-blue granite.
Fishes called bluegills,
Delicate blue laces,
Boys' and girls' favored thrills!
Bring on more blues
To chill hot sunny days
Among their cool hues.
Songs of blue and blues
Will chase away the grays!
How they brighten and amuse!
Gainsborough’s Blue Boy,
Christmas boy drumming,
Blue-robed Helen of Troy.
More blues to prop 'em up!
The blues keep coming!
Need someone to stop 'em up!
______© Nellieanna H. Hay
Moody Blues Nights in White Satin
. . . .Kaleidoscope
Blue - green - red - orange,
Shapeless colored glass,
No rhythm of its own,
A pile of nothingness.. . .
That which starts to mold it, -
Active and passive forces, -
Are movement and reflection,
Inner and outer resources.. . .
Perfect as a crystal,
A form they will reveal,
Or wispy as a flake of snow,
And changing like a reel.. . .
Components?
Still just random glass,
Now varied in expression
Like life within a human soul
Proceeds with its progression.. . .
And of its basic stuff
Itself is always made
While movement and reflection
Determine how it's played.
____© Nellieanna H. Hay
. . . .Blue SaturnDay Blues Now Gone
Forlorn,
Soul stands outside itself
And knocks;
But cannot enter in today,
Although it sees inside and knows
How many lives it is away.
A soul brought near
To all of self
Yet is denied
And cannot be, ~
It won't reveal;
Not yet.
The fragile heart,
Burdened with dream's
Excruciating ecstasy,
Is too unreal;
Droops and gasps
Yet still persists
Because the dream exists
Beyond the door.
Shadow deepens at locked door;
Still desert soul inside is hoping
To ripen and to flourish
In my dream.
From misty ground arises,
Vitalizing vapor - steam, -
To nourish,
To restore.
I awake; it is not real.
Ground is parched
And desert, still,
For now - until
That distant verdure
Can become
Reality for me.
Before the day you came
I did not dare to dream
That desert meeting moisture,
Comes alive.
Then I knew, through dreaming: -
The dream itself was overflow
Of that reality!
______© Nellieanna H. Hay
(Not the actual stained glass window I made into a stained glass bedspread.)
. . . Stained Glass Quilt
Blue stained glass
From salvaged antique window
Blended by its leaden strips
With multi-colored glassy shapes
To form a glassy pattern -
Flowers, leaves and vase.
How vividly I remember
Scaling, copying all onto
Design for king-size spread,
Matching exact colors in fabrics.
Joining with strips of 'leaden' cloth
Connecting each 'stained glass' field
To make it real, ~
A quilted masterpiece.
______© Nellieanna H. Hay
Diana Ross - Lady Sings The Blues
Blue is happy.
Blue is gloomy.
Blue delights.
Blue depresses.
Blue is so remote!
I'm ambivalent.
I led you on.
Blue is not my color.
Blue digresses
Like an asymptote!
______© Nellieanna H. Hay
