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BlueSkies
Member since April 15, 2025
Member for 1 year, 3 months
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Selected poems · curated by the poet
BlueSkies
8 pieces, in the order chosen by BlueSkies.
Contents
- 1. To Live and To Love "My inner child tiptoes back" Dec 8 · 25
- 2. The Holy Hour "Holy" Feb 8 · 26
- 3. Dandelion Wind "A stranger's hope sails by," Dec 28 · 25
- 4. Something Beautiful "There’s a breeze outside" Jan 30 · 26
- 5. Going Home "I’ve searched for safety" Oct 18 · 25
- 6. Bitter Fruit "You promised me bountiful orchards" Aug 20 · 25
- 7. Something About Wildflowers "I’m learning to grow." Jul 12 · 25
- 8. I Am Winter. "I am winter." Nov 21 · 25
1
To Live and To Love
My inner child tiptoes back
Scattering crayons and spilling laughter
Like marbles across the floor
Not being scolded for the mess
Paper planes,
Bubblegum balloons,
And kingdoms made
From blanket forts
You carry me to bed
Turning on my nightlight
Kissing my forehead goodnight
Whispering sweet dreams
I wake to the smell of pancakes,
Sunlight dripping
Through the curtains
Mornings of golden syrup.
The maple tree hums its summer song
As we picnic in her shade
The world seems simple and kind
And all I know is love.
2
The Holy Hour
Holy
in the way
the day
kneels
to the night.
The red sun
held
for a moment
in worship
before she shatters—
Turning the sky
into a lake of fire
Igniting the horizon,
then fading...
A grand retreat.
A surrender
to the stars.
3
Dandelion Wind
A stranger's hope sails by,
a wish in a dandelion wind.
I am a passerby,
a witness to the beauty
of a dream barely spoken,
trusting the quiet to carry it.
I step to the side
as it gently carries on,
watching its secrets
dance in the sunlight.
And for a moment,
I wish alongside them,
so that someone else
might find mine, too.
4
Something Beautiful
There’s a breeze outside
tugging at my sleeves,
like it wants me
to see something beautiful.
Maybe I’ll find a butterfly
floating in a field of flowers.
Maybe a young couple
sharing a gentle kiss
on a park bench.
Maybe the wind
will rustle the leaves,
whip the tall grass,
and ripple the lake’s surface
with every breath she breathes.
Steady as she goes, I walk
along a path that feels familiar.
I come across a dandelion
growing through a crack
in the sidewalk.
I take a deep breath as I realize,
I found myself.
Not in the butterfly,
as she drifted past
in a silent flutter.
Nor in the couple
who shared a promise
that I might believe in someday.
Not even in the wind,
while she carried me forward
with grace.
But in the smallest thing…
A dandelion
pushing through concrete.
Bright and stubborn,
unapologetically alive.
I kneel beside it,
feeling the sun warm my shoulders,
and something inside me settled.
Maybe I was never lost.
Maybe I was just waiting
for a moment forgiving enough
to notice I’d been here all along.
5
Going Home
I’ve searched for safety
in the curve of a stranger's spine,
in rented rooms,
on borrowed time.
Mistaking myself as a guest
in my mother’s place—
steps I told myself
I’d never retrace.
So I go to busy cities
with electric stars,
neon lights
from open bars.
First-class tickets,
year after year,
searching even
the stratosphere.
But the only place
I know to go
is in my chest,
where wildflowers grow.
Where little me
can run and play,
be herself—
a safe place to stay.
Lullabies sung,
steady hums of belonging
in my own voice
to settle the longing,
For a home somewhere far
away from the noise—
a place where my presence
someone enjoys.
But that place isn’t a place;
it’s been rooted inside.
The foundation is set.
I don’t have to hide.
So I wrap little me
in a quilt I have sewn.
This is our home—
and we’re not alone.
6
Bitter Fruit
You promised me bountiful orchards
And fruit dripping with honey—
Handing me a half-bruised peach
Saying “Trust me”
I took a bite and found
The pit of your malintent
Rotting in my mouth.
And still, I swallowed.
Vines of resentment
Grew from within,
Wrapping around my ribs,
Suffocating me.
I battle the vines
To save my life
As I was strangled
Half to death
Free from your grasp
I learned how to breathe
Each inhale, a resurrection
Each exhale, a release
Relentless hands tremble
As I plant a new grove—
Not of peaches,
But of thorns, roses, and truth.
7
Something About Wildflowers
I’m learning to grow.
To change and evolve without permission
The sky does not demand an explanation
when the clouds need to stretch
So I carry myself,
not in perfect steps, but in patience-
Allowing myself to waver and move
without apology
To stumble and bloom
as wildflowers do-
Becoming what I have yet to be
And when the seasons change
and my petals fall and fade,
I will rest,
then bloom again.
8
I Am Winter.
I am winter.
Branches stripped to the bone.
Reshaping my roots
Beneath frozen ground.
There’s a stillness,
A pause
To appreciate the journey thus far
And prepare the soil
For what I’ve yet to become.
There’s a patience in the frost
Reminding me that growth
Isn’t always visible.
A mirror of ice
Once fractured—
Scattering my reflection
Mended by frost,
Its veins become
Fragments of light
Brilliant prisms of color
Hues that escaped me—
Now echoes of the calling spring.
Yet still,
I am winter,
Steady as she goes,
Cradling the roots
That will reawaken me.
Of the poet
66
Poems posted
337
Critiques received
1.2
Years on Neopoet
About Me
About me
Just a person who loves reading and writing poetry.
Location: GA, U.S.
Recent Work
Learning To Be Whole
Posted:
Nineteen Years
Posted:
The Endeavor
Posted:
Isolation
Posted:
Blue Skies
Posted: