The Bluest Eye – M.A. Morris

In the bluest eye,
I thought I’d found
My heart’s desire,
As Judy, in the movie,
Once said.

Now, the bluest eye
Holds no warming flame
Of home.
It turns a mirror
Up to me and shows
The fool that I have been
For selling pieces of myself–
The plates, the cutlery
The sheets, the towels,
Quilts and bedspreads,
The leavings of a life.
The leavings of a house.
The leavings of myself–
Without a proper winnowing,
And sold it all at Garage Sale prices.
In return, I thought I’d gained
What I’d always wanted.
But leave emptied
Of all my leavings
In the bluest eye.

I am a retired teacher, enjoying said retirement.  I have been active in the gay and lesbian community since I threw away my Ken doll at the age of four.

You can read more of my writing at Hearing The Mermaids Sing

Featured Post: The Bluest Eye – Tamara Fricke

I am never
what is needed
a hammer where
a shovel’s needed

as a thing
I am an obstacle
a broken tree branch
in the road obstacle

but I am not
a hugs and kisses human
a beloved,
singing praises human

a rag doll
with brown eyes
torn to pieces by
hard green eyes

desperate to consume
this transcendency
as a blue eyed
butterfly, I transcend

Tamara Fricke is the 2010 co-winner of the Gertrude Claytor Award of the Academy of American Poets and is previously published by The Lyon Review, Meat for Tea, Attack Bear Press Poetry Vending Machine, Whisper and the Roar, We Will Not Be Silenced, and has been included in a number of compilations.  Her poetry chapbook Our Requiem was released in 2014.  She lives in Springfield, MA, with an ungrateful cat, where she writes grants professionally.

Featured Post: The Clean Up – Heather Carr-Rowe

darkness dawns
and I wipe
the floor with
a squirt of cynicism

scrub the grime
knowing I will
be back on my knees
time and time again

in the fight against
the muddy onslaught
of derision caked upon
patriarchal tongues

scrubbing oppression
and condescension
deeply ingrained in
the hallowed halls

I do not tire,
eventually the floors
will be wiped clean
with the awakening
of the old boys

©Heather Carr-Rowe

I am a tree lover living on the prairies. My poetry is often inspired by my passion for nature, the environment and current affairs. You can read more of my writing at my blog – Sgeoil

Featured Post: The Bluest Eye- Christine E. Ray

ivory hued dolls
with wavy golden locks
lovingly combed
and styled
sat carefully along
the bedroom shelf
their piercing blue eyes
painted open
in horror
their mouths forming
silent ‘O’s
of unheard screams
no protection
no comfort
can they offer
these porcelain witnesses
of the injustices
inflicted upon
her young brown body
by a racist society
by boys
and men
she knew
she trusted
her world
her skin
her psyche
by such
unable to bear
their unblinking knowing
any longer
she turns each doll
so they face
the wall
and begins to slowly
sew herself
back together

© 2019 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All Rights Reserved

The Bluest Eye – CE Wing

As I sit and look at the sky
In my mind’s eye appears
The face I love the most
Haloed and framed by strawberry blonde hair
Skin sprinkled all over by freckles
A body full of curves
But of all the physical features
It is the eyes I love the most
For what I see in them
Is the pain
The suffering that she has endured
The strength and courage born from that
Which never ends
Even if she falters
She continues stronger than ever
But with all that
It’s the love that shines the brightest
In those
The bluest eyes

CE Wing is a Connecticut Yankee living in the Queen City. A writer and poet. She has dreamed of being a writer since she was a little girl. Her dream was pushed aside for a time but through her journey of self-discovery, she rekindled her passion for writing. She is currently writing a novel, a traditional fantasy with an LGBTQ theme. You can read more of her writing on Wing’s Poetry