This week for the first time I have written a poem in response to the prompt, rather than pulling an already finished poem from my files. Consequently it's a bit raw and will probably be edited further in future. More blue poems at Poetry Thursday here.
In the first week
the sea is the dark blue of the mountains
between the blooming heather and the first snowfall
In the second week
the sea is the greyish blue of her Sunday best sateen
which she wore when they first met
In the fifth week
there are storms. White waves crash on the deck.
Through her porthole she sees a sea as green blue as his eyes
that caught her gaze and asked for her hand in marriage.
In the eighth week
her child sickens.
they are becalmed in the turquoise blue of the bracelet
on her sister’s arm, waving at the dockside
In the ninth week
the days grow shorter. At twilight
the sea is the inky blue of the words in her diary,
recording births, deaths and distance travelled
In the last week
they bury her child. The ship is enclosed by sea and sky
the blue of the eggshell she found on the path to the byre.
Nearby an unfledged chick with staring eyes,
covered in flies.
The next week she unpacks seeds brought from home,
plants cabbages and carrots,
and in the borders marigolds, poppies and nasturtiums.
The cornflower seed, she sets aside.
In summer the garden is aflame with red, orange and yellow
but no blue
not any scrap of blue