One Stormy Day…

digital illustration from a photoApologia

Bleak indigo and velvet was the sky

That hung above that cold portentous noon

More chilling than the goddess of the moon

If she had bowed her sorrows down to die—

My own, I could not grief so sharp withhold

But wept as though the torrent ought to drown

Me in the rivers of her velvet gown

And leave me breathless on the stones and cold—photoBut blue is not my cloak, or yet my skin

As much as dark the tenor of the day

And when the storm had lastly passed away

I felt the night might swallow up my sin—

Now sorrow’s misery that spoke you grief

Forgiven falls in sunset’s sweet relief.photo

What I See is What I Get

acrylic mural on a wall (6 ft H)My Hero, My Self

The guide to my path,

The lamp to my feet,

My counselor, guru,

Informer, my sweet

Intelligent tutor,

My rescue, my hope—

Too bad you are Me,

You poor pitiful dope.

Blue, She Said!

That most fa-BLUE-lous of women, Ms. Cyndi Bookchick, just posted about her eternal color love, blue, and while I’m mostly noted as a whopping fool for unlimited color of every kind, I am, among those multitudes, deeply fond of all shades, tints, and hues of the blues. So with that friendly little bump from Cyndi’s blue-sky moment, I am moved to share some pretty blues with alla youse.photophotoBurning in Midwinter

Turquoise of the hottest hue

(A word not often linked with blue)

Bears in its heart the sun’s true fire

From its desert home, where it may transpire

Even in this day of detachment, cool

And belief in only the Facts of school,

That mystic magic and alchemy

Still stalk abroad and begin to be

Unearthed in windstorm when the stone

Under the sand is polished, blown

To visibly capturing sun’s wild rays

To give bold turquoise stone such blazephotophoto