BLUE POET’S SECRET

67 pieces

RED

My blue goddess

In the wastelands of colours,

Guilty as charged

Gentle and silence

Oh grey or green

White lines flashing

Brown with a bit of white

When white crosses greyAnd grey runs into hardwood

I have coloursI feel them in the air

There is a time

Chapter 1: This is me and my colours

Mr. Coward and Prof. Poet

in these last days and weeks I have had some more time for myself, in comparison with other times of the year. I wanted to be with my kids, my parents, my bike and find out more about what I want.

How good intentions

Black red white

In seeing black

Day 1 near the slopes

A day of driving throughout a country I always think of as grey and dull, surprised me with smiles and green.

a dream started with waking up in a dark room, not knowing where i was, and all around me i found people with masks.

For whom it concerns

Blue is always here

Just because I can

What said is said – what is done

Blue always here

White full of colour

A dream that became a start to write

A dream in so many ways in so may forms, though is just one I plot down…

Some free writing – explicit

I walk through the hallway of an old Victorian hotel, looking at the room numbers in orange gold, I find the number I’m looking for 269. I knock, the door is gently opened and I’m received by your two sparkling eyes, you wearing a black dress, the one I admired as it shows your lovely figure.

Hmmmm what else

Better without orange

The sun on my face

Orange as in no orange

Garage with red carpet

White and buttons

Alone in myself

Foxes of the mind

The curious mind

Parisian moment

Drapes of a terrace