Member-only story
Poetry
The Blues
Free Verse - when words and painting combine
I watched the spirals of blue shatter blind windows
as words crashed the walls with ink.
Words pungent with accusations
sprawled across the sonorous shores of Venus.
Royal skin lies under moon-rise of salt indigo
weeping the bleach of her flesh:
the shell of her heart wide-eyed and open
as she casts adrift grey sails raised in hope.
Truth hides as a lost boy beneath each thread of carpet
woven with the warp of remembrance
too frightened to come into the light
where navy clouds beg to deluge:
the cerulean blue of the sky wisp-ed in memory.
But there is no blame here
just pain
painting the world in staves of azure
the music no longer silent
but banging like a timpani
upon the dull drum beats of three blue hearts
now awash with jazz.
2022
