An Old Poem: The Hue Blue

An Old Poem:  The Hue Blue

I am not feeling well today, so instead of writing something completely new, I am sharing a poem I wrote long ago.  If you like, make a comment of what the poem means to you and what you think it means for me.  Why did I write the poem?  Utto....  In any case, I hope you appreciate the poem.  That does not mean you have to like it, though.  

The Hue Blue

Have you ever wondered about people who say they are blue?

What does this mean? I see not skin of blue hue,

nor do I see a blue sheen.

Sometimes I see blue mascara or blue hair,

but what do I care?

I find the hue blue is good for me and you!

The sky is blue, ranging from Indigo to Baby!

The oceans and seas are often cerulean, tiffany, or maya

Why, even our pants are blue!

Brandeis, Denim, and Egyptian,

we wear them all without contrition!

Without our blue ink, people would put up quite a stink!

We like federal, Han and Persian,

Royal, Steel, and Prussian.

Jewels we have to see!

Cobalt, Sapphire, Ultramarine

Colleges, too, blue they be!

Cambridge, Eton, Duke, Columbia, Oxford, and Yale,

Come on and don't be stale!

Our forces in arms stand honor guard in blue,

Air Force and Navy, Marines too

Flowers we see, blue they often be,

periwinkle, cornflower, iris

Perhaps blue is the color of Osiris

I am bipolar,

and sometimes I need to cry on a shoulder.

At times I get depressed,

but this is not a time of blueness,

weak it is to say this is a time of stress.

Depression is a state of deadness,

not even a deep sadness.

Depression has no feeling,

my thoughts my illness stealing.