Reflections and Prisms

Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem

The color blue, the looking glass of mind

When it pretends to separate the real

From Keats’ ideal, though made from diamonds mined,

Is much like two-way mirrors when they yield

The spectra from blue stars, those subtleties

Too like reverberations in between

The strings on instruments, harmonics, keys

And melodies and symphonies as clean

As seraphim in choirs composers hear.

The soul can hear the shades of meaning, blue

Inside another blue, as spirits veer

To touch in wide chords wanting rendezvous.

  The chasm rings between the clearness of

    The purest blue chime like the light of love.

© Phillip Whidden