Scattered Vapor (Blue Side of Pale Series)


Photo by Msh Foto on Unsplash

Scattered Vapor (Blue Side of Pale Series)

Blue sky is a liar; her limits are blue
Her lies transmute fires that weld me to you

The sun brings to light every pigment we hide
Our surface perspires; misty deja-vu

The wind carries laughter, cool respite, rain’s scent
Nostalgia transpires; soil smelling of you

The earth turns away as my summer sun sets
Our shadows conspire to blend beyond view

To know is to love – is to hurt you, I fear
My love won’t expire; pain melds me to you

Whisper to the night, as blue-sky gathers lies
When your Bear retires, new moon guides us through.

Written for dVerse Poetry Form: Ghazal, hosted by Grace this week. Other poets have contributed here.

Day 15 – Midnight Blue Moon


Image source:

Midnight Blue Moon

Midnight with you when the moon becomes blue.

Hindsight rendezvous when the moon becomes blue.


Mixed emotions cascade as owl heart serenades.

Forthright with you when the moon becomes blue.


Pain and regret shades our shadow masquerade.

Moonlight paints you when the moon becomes blue.


Sketching our love made where lines of us fade.

Rewrite what’s due when the moon becomes blue.


Hearts breaking, remade forged in fires betrayed.

Ignite on cue when the moon becomes blue.


Outright loss, dismayed when what’s lost is weighed.

Outright untrue when the moon becomes blue.


Destiny dissuades fate as line-of-sight swayed.

Starlight breaks through when the moon becomes blue.


In light tricks that strayed, Venus can’t retrograde.

Tonight, please be true when the moon becomes blue.


Enchanter’s nightshade bade our touch, unafraid.

Twilight out of view when the moon becomes blue.


Desire unbraids us, pooling very dark, marmalade

I fight to subdue when the moon becomes blue.


Expired, remade, us, fueling Barry’s lark escapade.

Sleep tight, bid adieu when the moon becomes blue.

** *

And just like that, we’re halfway done with NaPoWriMo. I gotta be honest; this is fun, but it is kicking my ass. Sorry I haven’t visited my fellow poets as often as I’d like to. Between writing every day, working my day job, being present for Wifey, and all the other real life stuff, I feel like I barely have time to look up, eat, or bathe. I have no idea how you other poetry bloggers find the time to do all that you do, especially those of you who host prompts. You’re all amazing to me.

I just felt like writing a ghazal today. No prompt, no sharing, no pingbacks. Just a ghazal.

It’s weird. Whenever a new Kendrick Lamar album enters my music rotation, I start thinking in nested rhymes, which is pitch-perfect for the ghazal form.