Number 9 Blues
Those eyes,
that song,
a bird the color
of the moon
we met under.
The wind
a ribbon of sadness.
Cold hands,
broken heart—
all the hue
of a trumpet’s lonely staccato.
- Comment
- Reblog
-
Subscribe
Subscribed
Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now.
lifelessons - a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown 
What a poignant and beautiful poem
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thanks, Sadje…
LikeLiked by 2 people
You’re welcome
LikeLiked by 2 people
I can play blues to it – how beautiful!
LikeLiked by 2 people
Pared down and full of longing – a haunting song!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Astounding. Evocative.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Nice one, you’ve bent those words to the shape of emotion colour and sound
Much💙love
LikeLike
That second stanza took a turn. ❤️ It’s beautifully poignant, raw, and heartbreaking.
LikeLiked by 1 person
A person couldn’t ask for a more eloquent description of their poetry, Lucy.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Very effective, the blues sure come through. A sad tale, over and done in two blue soaked stanzas.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I love the term “soaked stanzas.”
LikeLiked by 1 person
So romantic and poigant. I love it.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks, M Jay..
LikeLiked by 1 person
“The wind
a ribbon of sadness.” Love that
LikeLiked by 1 person
This is beautifully evocative! 💝
LikeLike
Yes! Beautiful, evocative and sad and yes. Thank you for your poems and sharing them with us.
LikeLike
Thanks, Judy.
LikeLiked by 1 person
You certainly made the Blues come clear.
LikeLike
Thanks, Björn.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I love the understated color specially describing it as a ribbon of sadness.
LikeLike