Is your Blue my Red

By CottonJones

2.6K 518 948

I wrote these comments and other random thoughts on Wattpad and elsewhere on the web. I think we as poets hav... More

Part 2: A letter from Lisa Cole-Allen
Part 3: Dead Poets
Part 4: A Message to Lisa
Part 5: Date Swirl Cookie Receipe
Part 6: Laughter
Part 7: Comments on poem, "Pleiadians, Seven Sisters"
Part 8: Reaching for the Universal Library of Knowledge
Part 9: Causality and Outcome
Part 10: When Governments Whisper, People Tremble
This is for Sara Eliot!
Where did I Go? Oh, there I Am
Dear Author
What I want to Be
Near Death
A Fickle Trophy
Scratches in the Stone
Solipsism
The Next Go
Pinch Me!
RIP, Mike
The Ladybug and the Sparrow
Random Accidents
Perspective
The End of All
A USA Rant!
Mars Landing and Palette Colors
Poets of Blood
Pretty Faces and Flowery Speech
Two Lines are for You
Wavy Waves and Shadowy Shadows; In What Cave Do You Exist?
Write, Write, Write!
I See You!
Global Warming
I Publish, Therefore Am
It will Steal your Memories when it Comes
Part 37: COVID-Marys
Part 38: The Earth is Blooming
Part 39: An Ashen Horse
In the Pink Moonlight
Once to be, perhaps to Congregate
Carnation, Reincarnation, Mars and Other Thoughts
Remembering Sloan Ranger
Essay: Crazy Things We Perceive
Ten Things the Year 2020 Taught Me
I'm of this Mind
Ashes in the Wind
The Guise of Forgetfulness
Some Fun with the Style of Edna Millay
If you Feel the Heat Know your Location

Part 1: Is your Blue my Red?

340 36 74
By CottonJones


Sometimes I imagine if someone, somewhere is experiencing the same thing I am at the same instance, and the answer is yes, somewhere the light turn blue, sometimes a glint of light sparkles off of the water to blind you; at the same moment as someone else, nothing is new under the sun as it is said. My friend is it the same moon that shines down on you as it does on me? Or does it look the same, and does the air smell the same where you are? When I first went to Oregon as a young man to begin college, I flew in at night. My directions were all mixed up. Where's north, where's east? The birds were different, most of them; the Jay was not our Blue Jay. We had no rhododendrons in Missouri, yet; they were everywhere in Oregon. It rained all the time, but the sun was the same (when it gifted us with its presence through the cloudy skies), it was a bit further to the south than I was used to and the stars were in a southward position as well, but they were the same. Where is the sun where you live? I assume to the north since the world is a sphere. In the summer it is close to midway overhead beating down on us, but the moss grows on the north side, because it is always shaded. In the winter, the sun skirts the southern sky about a third of the way up. My poet friend PJ Johnson, poet laureate of the Yukon spends her winters in the darkness and snowy cold, she doesn't know my summers and the sun is a different beast for her. Do your eyes see the same blue I do or is your blue my red, you can't know for sure unless we change brains.... Lpf. Olan

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