The early morning drizzle
Washes my face.
Driving by
The bridge on the troubled waters,
The city of Blues approaches.
Long, slender buildings.
Lights, twilights
Maybe, coming out of the windows.
Red, green, yellow.
Each new light, a new hope,
A new dawn.
Each window a dream,
Burning, creating, surviving.
Laughing, smiling,
Blending in the lush blue fields,
Cause dreams never die.
You must be asleep somewhere,
Carefree,
Warm, with the quilt over your
Silken body. Like the unknown voice
That calls me from
The middle of nowhere, smooth, haunting.
To me it's all blue. Building,
Lights, sky, water
The bridge. And I am smiling.
I am happy, happy to be in
The City of Blues, with you.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
The City of Blues
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6 Comment:
I like the mood of the poem...
your imagaries... they're familiar to me. the colour of the poem is fascinating; pensive blue... or just blue...
do you write for any newspaper, like the statesman for instance?
thanks for comments on my blog. poems just turn up... and mine don't turn of very often!
Beautiful. The picture is lovely too.
Btw, on reading the title I had got the impression it was about something like the opposite of the City of Joy. Lol.
@Priya : Although the color blue is usually reserved for melancholy, it can also be used to peace. No wonder you liked the mood :)
@anastasia : Pensive blue indeed. No, I don't write for any newspaper, Statesman or otherwise. I don't think I write that well, or do I? Poems are like rain, you never know when you would be gifted with a spell of showers bringing you relief :)
@Julia Scissor : This is not the City of Joy, definitely not. Thank you for your comments :)
very nice.
Nice to find such a creative and innovative material. I'm up to read more of you or write a paper using your style. You make it look so simple.
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