grey clouds
smudged on a canvas of blue
soft as the sand.
a lazy artist
swirling the murk to life,
formless but living.
shafts of grey
slide to a mirror surface,
feet stepping on each other.
the ocean,
undulating to unheard rhythms,
a blend of swirls and ripples.
grey clouds
set free in waves and foam,
dancing to the shore.

D.B. 5/11-12/2012

There is no silver lining on my cloud in the blue
it was not made for shimmers but for humbler hues
like the soft shade of purple just for me I think
that is lined by the love of my innocent pink
-D.B.
1/29/2009

the sun shoots beams of radiant hues
orange pink and gold overshadow the blue
they shine so bright and glow so intense
blinding, overpowering, they never relent.
but that is not we, that is not us
we are the blue, the soft colored dust
the lining on our cloud is not overbearing
it's perfectly, lovingly, wonderfully....
-D.B.
9/3/2012

The first poem is the first real poem, in my opinion, that I ever wrote back in 2009.
The second one is one I started to think of in August 2012 and while making the original, which has been lost in the deep depths of my wandering thoughts, I realized how much it sounded like the one I wrote in 2009. The second version of the 2012 poem is the one that is here and here's the deal with the end of this one:
There is a reason why I'm posting this poem before it's done. I have a word that I want to use as the final word of the poem but it is very presumptive. God willing, I will one day be able to put the final word in this poem....someday.
-D.B.
9/3/2012

Series (Part 3 of 3): "I'm flying up above the clouds--"

I’m flying up above the clouds—

Yes it is, for the final time,

A dream of mine

And something I

Think I’d really like to try—

I see the sea, blue, clear to—

Hell would pour me half the trouble

Society and conscience pours!

They dare to gather in a huddle

And say they’ve heard it all before—

I greet the mountains with—

A whisper in my head you see,

Or two, they’re fighting constantly!

One gives me very pretty rhymes,

The other bashes them each time—

And when I wake, I think, “Adventure—

It’s quite alright, I understand,

I’m speaking to explain.

I’ve never been too good at that;

I’ll write so its more plain.

-D.B.

2/14/2010

Series (Part 2 of 3): "I'm flying up above the clouds—"

I’m flying up above the clouds—
But there’s no cloud, there’s only blue.
But why can’t I imagine them?
I swear I do, they’re my dreams too!
I know some ancient poet thought
Of flying up there too,
And hasn’t every human thought
That they could fly there too?
But I really am original
And given just one chance,
I would’ve thought of flying high
Much sooner in advance.
And had I never read a book
Of birds who dreamed to fly
Or seen my friends jump off their beds
With plastic bags (they tried),
And if I’d never watched a plane
Weave loudly through the clouds
Or seen the cartooned superman
Fly swift without a sound,
I swear I would’ve thought of it,
And all that I would need
Would be myself, some faith,
A cloud,
And my thoughts to roam on
Free.

-DB
2/14/2010

Series (Part 1 of 3): "I'm flying up above the clouds—"

I’m flying up above the clouds—
No everybody does that.
I’m flying high over the sea—
But many others do that too.
I’m swimming in a gulf—of Mexico!
With dolphins and with sting rays slick,
And all around me water clear—!
But wait my friend dreamed that last week.
So what is it that I have dreamed
That none else have as well?
Oh dreams are such a common thing!
But life, oh life does swell
With all the different hopes and tears,
I think, and thoughts
I can’t control.
It’s unexpected and sometimes
It really takes a toll
On heart, on mind,
On body, soul; on—
Well, what else is there?
A treasure trove of lovely things,
And things that make me scared,
And things so sad and others happy
That I think they are quite mad!
So really isn’t life a dream
But just with less extremes?
No it’s the same, for I can fly,
And not just in my dreams.

-DB
2/14/2010