Cerulean Blues

Impossibly blue skies
cradle my cerulean thoughts of you
of years passed by; whispers of the silence of time

In a quiet chasm of my heart
lies a room; a place so deep and dark
illuminated by a lone candle,
the everlasting memory of a soul

Hours melt into days, days into years and still I remember-
the life that you all but sadly forgot
the flame flickers and my soul dies just a little noticing the flame’s fundamental core
a cerulean blue . . .
the unforgettable light and color of you

love you, Mom
7.15.05 – 7.15.07



13 thoughts on “Cerulean Blues

  1. How touching…absolutely beautiful!
    She’s with you always!


    Thanks, Lynn.
    Friends like you make me realize that very sentiment.


  2. We never forget our loved ones, as I’m positive they are watching over us…and guiding us. This is a touching, poignant poem which shows your everlasting love for your mom. I bet she’s proud of you Michael!

    Guidance…I need all I can get somedays.
    Thanks for reading, Matty


  3. Michael,
    It is remarkable how the connection with another human being can transcend all things. You are so fortunate to have had that connection with your mother – and she truly does still live – in you. How proud she is to perch on your shoulder and marvel at your beautiful words.


    There are many days that I wish I could sit with her and have her actually read something I wrote.
    For now, I’ll settle for the belief that she’s there in spirit.
    Thanks, Annie


  4. I’m speechless, really. I wish I could write that way, such a beautiful way to remember someone. Such a beautiful tribute to such an important person – seems like you were one lucky kid, but she is also a very lucky mom to have such a wonderful son! It’s cool that you can express yourself so well. I really admire that!

    That this affected you in this way makes me realize that true words just happen.
    And as far as a tribute? You bet it was . . .


  5. Why Mr. Bad Sneaker….I knew there was a poet genius in you somewhere 🙂

    It’s funny, Kim, this thing wrote itself in about 15 minutes.
    I love it when that happens.


  6. I was in a Steak & Ale on Sunday. My great-grandpa used to love that place. He was color blind. But when I think of him, I remember his pink shirt, maroon vest and red sweater combo. He came out one day, dressed in that ensemble with his grey slacks and red socks. “Don’t I look sharp” he asked? He did indeed.

    As long as we don’t forget, they will always be with us.

    Very nice memory, Lass. Thanks for sharing it.
    And I’ll bet he did look sharp . . .


  7. Very moving, and very nice use of language and metaphor. You really should write more poetry, Michael.


    Thanks, Smith.
    I’m not so sure about more poetry.
    Not even sure I’d call this poetry . . .


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