Cerulean Blue

Poem By Ayn Timmerman

With one finger
I paint a
Cerulean blue streak

from the center
of my forehead
down to the tip
of my nose

for no reason
other than as an
iconic memorial for the
hue of the Mediterranean sea

that I have not
seen personally yet,
so I pay homage
from afar, in a

celebration of an
open third eye,
an open passport
and an open mind

with a roving foot
and a riveted foot
which to heed?

Comments about Cerulean Blue

Ayn I enjoyed reading yo poem, keep writing


Rating Card

5,0 out of 5
1 total ratings

Other poems of TIMMERMAN

A Quiet Mind

Lift up the cover and look
at the things scattering,
hidden, secret things;
the way insects

Break Loose

I am stuck in a daily circle,
a routine that limits my
energy since I am a part of
a cycle conforming to

Ecology

I.

The sun has brought
the temperature up to

The Change (Fall)

A cold stone sun,
white disc behind
a gray haze-

Insects

Japanese beetle lace
hangs as delecately
as moth-eaten curtains
shrouding the field