‘This is Mister Blake, my dear,
he sees visions..’
and he looked down at me, this man
who saw, what did that mean,
saw visions? His eyes were just so blue,
so blue, that they were limitless
and I flew up and into them
like a sky and wings
and the voices sang forever
as if there were no repetition
and angels with blue eyes
looked at me out of everywhere
seeing every thing
and Mister Blake the poet raised his hat to me,
smiled the gift of always,
and walked on his way
down the Strand
as if one and all things
had never parted company.
Well done Michael. Through his poetry Mr Blake allowed us to view the world through the windows of his sky blue soul.
Scarlett said it for me. But this is deeply beautiful. t x
I know someone who had blue eyes like that, like the sky that melded into all eternity...which only proves that one cannot always trust sky blue eyes! Ouch!
You should consider yourself privileged, to have made such a connection. Thanks for sharing, in your inimitable style. Danny
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nice poem......Merry Christmas to you and Mr. Blake.... Gaurav.