How Cyan Was Made

How Cyan was made

Once upon a time
When time was a toddler;
When the old God had just
Finished creating summer -

He took a break and napped;
With loving care the green
And gray of solid earth
Kissed him unseen.

Then came the blue -
Almost a stampede -
They settled for only glances
They were too many, they agreed.

The red were very far
Not little sad indeed.
They sent their blessings too -
While thoroughly envied.

When He woke up he did
Guess but didn't ask,
His kids were so well
Busy in their tasks.

It was then that He noticed
A new color on white
His robe was tinged with it
- The Color of Delight.

Before He could worry
Of delaying The Man,
He claimed the bright shade,
"Why, I should call it Cyan!"

And so Cyan happened
As a dye on His white wear;
As an expression of delight,
And of Green and Blue's dare.

Particularly Hurtful

Particularly Hurtful


If you knew the wounds
That I took in my wars;
If you knew the pain
The least of them caused;
If you knew that they
Still live unhealed;
If you knew that I
Carry them like babies;
And wear them like trophies. 


If you knew all this, and more,
You would think that
This little splinter of a word
That recently got wedged
Some place in my heart -
Shouldn't 
Be 
So
Particularly hurtful.