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Blue breeds blue hued shadows—
does this surprise? The wooden chairs are blue,
the table for lovers is blue—the people,
the horses, the houses, all likewise. Or maybe
the blood of irises has permeated your eyes;
it soothes and improves the catastrophes
of the dull day. Blue spiderwort, forget-me-not—
nobody seems to know what they’re called,
so the bluebird babies do somersaults in the sky:
they know the earth is topsy-turvy. The sight
sends us spinning—Oh, you terrible night.
The vase is blue and speckled with the sky,
and not empty. It is a scepter for the majestic posy,
and I offer it to you. The sharp, white magnolias
almost go silver in the flushed moonlight:
our seasonal planet is my very own kite. And I
am the vivid red celosia, a gratified, grinning juvenile,
adjoining you, the virtuous tease.
A bottle of wine for one, the sacred chalice for the deed—
morning glories you’ll be born-again
turn your grace towards me.
| "Blue breeds blue hued shadows—|
does this surprise? The wooden chairs are blue, "
Well, that line immediately caught my eye. Interesting, much focus obviously uppon the color blue (duh), a wee bit over my head at this time of night. xD
|| Posted on 2009-04-24 00:00:00 | by Shadowstar13 | [ Reply to This ] |