Ashu singh

You found your way here. That already means something. The voice that writes from the place where tide meets blade where dark dreaming and the old gods rise from salt and shadow. A voice forged in the deep. Alchemist of the unseen. Anonymous…

Something More from Depth & Dagger?

Depth & Dagger

Coniunctio Ignis

15 days ago · 31 likes · 23 comments · Depth & Dagger

Something more From Untamed Eulogy?

An Entanglement Of Carrots

Untamed Eulogy — Tue, 04 Aug 2026 04:56:29 GMT

A poem about two people becoming one in the dark, long before either of them knew what to call it.

a culinary collaboration from and me.

Left (Regular)

Right (Italics)

before either of us

found the words

our roots

had already

started turning

towards each other

softly

in the dark

following a warmth

neither of us

could see

the soil

holding its breath

around us

while seasons

passed overhead

unnoticed

thin fingers of root

reaching

then reaching again

feeling their way

through wet-earth brown

towards something

they could not name

learning

by touch alone

where your roots

crossed mine

and lingered

before sunlight

before names

before anyone

thought to call it

anything at all

our roots

were already

growing closer

sharing

the same dark

the same silence

the same patient earth

storing sunlight

in copper-orange sweetness

neither of us

had tasted yet

twisting gently

around each other

until even the soil

no longer knew

which warmth

belonged to whom

green shoots

climbing slowly

towards the light

bringing gold

from a sky

we had never seen

through touch

through warmth

through seasons

spent entwined

until one summer

the whole earth

tasted of our belonging

and the sweetness

inside us lingering

until

we could no longer tell

which root was yours

and which

was mine

long before

we called it love

before hands arrived

from another world

You are my underground lover.

Like all the nights prior,

Like all the days after.

Deep in the unbreathing dark.

This is nature’s magic.

I kissed his silhouette.

It restfully buried under every atom of my skin.

Naked flesh covered in dirt.

Eyes weary with want.

Skin flushed at the thought.

Take my body on your chest.

My skin grazes your copper heat.

Rough.

Hungry.

As I ponder.

All my wants,

my desires.

My stoic king.

I have slender legs, very strokeable,

and silky hair.

Entwined bodies.

Fragile anatomy.

Until our thighs clench.

Every squeeze of dirt pushes me deeper.

The leg entwine tone stole every goosebump,

spread itself across my skin making me crimson.

Pulses quicken,.

Breath thicken.

Body swells.

Friction becomes our breathing genre.

I prefer to stroke him back,

while the leafy canopy dances in the wind.

Soft beams against a leafy crown, seeking its lover

Buckley singing ‘you should’ve come over

before autumn

learned

our names

the wind

was already

keeping

our secret

inside

every green

whisper

until even

the leaves

could no longer tell

whether

they were

brushing

against light

against us

Let them taste the amber juices.

Let them try to dig us up.

They will only find a single root,

a shared pulse,

and dirt stained crimson.

It is a seal.

A happiest death.

If you take me between your lips piece by piece.

Devour my Umami buds.

Scared peace.

Broken boundary.

Drink me down, my king!

Your heart is still beating through the soil,

loud enough to shake the canopy above.

Take every slender piece.

Consume the half I left behind.

But remember,

every time you breathe out,

it is my friction inside your chest.

We are a breathing genre now.

Every pause is a countdown.

Every quiet hour feeds the next detonation.

Oh my darling,

I’m too serendipitous to be a part of orbs.

I look better in silk than in smoke.

Both of us are always open to thoughtful writing collaborations.

Subscribe Mark

a month ago · 56 likes · 35 comments

Something More From ?

Mark Crutchfield

each morning

i hold your curves…

Something more from ?

Ashu singh

Litany of Brown Eyes

This poem is a Note reply from my friend, Awaken The Legend Within . I thought it was too beautiful not to share with you all. Thank you for the Spark …

a month ago · 18 likes · 5 comments · Untamed Eulogy

Litany of Brown Eyes

Untamed Eulogy — Fri, 31 Jul 2026 16:44:02 GMT

This poem is a Note reply from my friend, . I thought it was too beautiful not to share with you all. Thank you for the Spark !!

Let that information churn.

Conjure a vision of somber eyes.

Every breath is an act of defiance.

Every heartbeat is a betrayal.

Your gaze—

an ecstatic incident,

casting spells on my skin with your lips.

There is so much eroticism

in the eyes that eat the heart whole.

Your gaze slips between my bones,

settling beneath the hollow of my ribs.

My sternum becomes a locked chapel,

where every glance lingers

at the handle of the door.

My lungs forget their covenant with air,

making a religion of the brown in your eyes.

Those brown eyes leave me green with longing.

And just like that—

your gaze is stitched into my skin.

A Poetic Kiss

Untamed Eulogy — Wed, 29 Jul 2026 11:23:44 GMT

This poem is a Note reply from my friend, . I thought it was too beautiful not to share with you all. Thank you Mitch!!

Photo courtesy: Grok

Magnetic Pulls.

I’m hypnotized by the way you orchestrate my soul.

Your breath tangoed around my pillow,

playing a kaleidoscope of goosebumps across my skin.

Acoustics percussion.

The smoothness of your heart oozes out,

tossing and turning with the anchor of your pulse.

I felt a love from another time.

Let me taste what your lips fear to speak.

Allow my breath to wear yours.

A rebirth of my lungs as I inhale the sight of you,

exhaling the sanguine that rests for you inside my chest.

I desire you,

all of y o u.

Devastating teaser.

Veins simmering with the love I have stored for you.

Chain reaction.

Paint the stars on my back

until I’m lit as brightly as the moon.

A poetic k i s s.

Hold me.

Read me.

Understand me.

Love me.

See me.

In the end,

I, too, am a p o e m,

wanting only to be held,

to be deeply ruined in bed.

Make me flustered.

I’m a claustrophobic barren land.

Always Me, Always You

Untamed Eulogy — Fri, 17 Jul 2026 16:57:00 GMT

This first poem we wrote together is dedicated to every heart that has ever been afraid to be fully seen. It is a tribute to the quiet confusion of the dark, and the beautiful moment love decides to step out of the fear and move toward the light.

A love quartet by :Damien(left) and Untamed Eulogy(right)

Music and Band courtesy by Suno

With you, I’m someone i never knew i could be.

Subscribe Damien

Deep in the shadow of the twisted w o o d

we watch the wary moonlight glow,

the silhouette of t w o

basking on the edge of revision,

to step into the light

is to accept night ends and day returns,

we stay, for a time, in our shadow

to protect the darkness within,

the lunar lit expanse calls

for our renewal,

yet we s t a y hidden in

obscurity,

afraid to be fully s e e n.

If the shadow is where you need to hide,

I will stand in the dark with you,

u n m o v i n g.

But do not mistake the night for our forever

look closely,

our dawn is already waiting,

plotting its escape just to find us.

Let the world call us obscure,

but the universe is not blind.

With the moonlight waltzing,

a trillion stars stand as witnesses,

testifying that through every eclipse of the soul,

my hand never left yours.

You fear being fully seen,

my l o v e,

but to me,

you are the only light worth watching.

Step out when you are ready;

until then, I will l o v e you in the dark.

Illuminated in your presence,

the essence of your g l o w,

I find peace in tow

as our hearts align and f l o w,

our roles are known,

side by side,

in this shadow

we extinguish unexpected

Interference as one

and return to the u s

we have always been

destined to become,

whether beneath the m o o n

and stars,

or in the rays of sun,

I will venture

into our dawn, with y o u,

my l o v e,

when that day comes.

Then let the interferences come and fade,

like static against a symphony.

They cannot overwrite what the cosmos has signed.

If you are ready for the dawn,

I am already standing at the horizon,

holding the sun back for y o u.

We dust off the debris of the dark we knew,

to burn in a beautiful flame that heals us anew.

Led by the hope of an arrival so true—

it was always,

always m e, and

always, always y o u.

Subscribe Damien

Not Ink, But me

Untamed Eulogy — Fri, 17 Jul 2026 08:26:32 GMT

Not every masterpiece is made with ink. Some are painted with longing, silence, and the quiet offering of a heart.

They watched from afar—

my poetry,

my flushed red cheeks,
a blank page,
and an ink chalice.

My crimson lips
held hymns they could never pronounce.

My cheeks carried
the quiet fever of your name.

Your eyes—
two stained-glass windows
where every colour learned to kneel.

Each line brushstrokes another glimpse of you.

I stripped thee slowly upon my canvas,

slowly tracing thy silhouette
until the page came alive,

tracing every broken metaphor with reverence,
finding beauty in the places you censored,

bearing the scream of colours beneath the enjambment,

embracing the hues you buried before they could breathe.

Thy stoic mouth remained unfinished—
not for lack of skill,
but because no language survives
the architecture of longing.

Until colour forgot it was colour
and remembered it had always been blood.

The chalice had never carried ink.

It carried me—

vein by vein,

prayer by prayer,

wound by willing wound.

I have loved thee since the frost of red first kissed my lips.

Thy name stitched into every prayer at dusk.

Were I a poet,
I’d trade all verse to hold thy hand.

I watched thee dance with winds
that never knew my name.

A thousand colours,
I kept thee company in silence.

Every stroke is an argument with canvas
and colour,

that we are meant to dissolve in watercolour.

The red upon thy lips
was borrowed from mine.

The blush upon thy cheeks
had travelled through my veins.

The light within thine eyes
was painted with every sleepless night
I survived loving thee.

Even thy stoic gaze
betrayed a tenderness
no silence could conceal.

There—

when I gather my hair
to the side,

at the base of my nape,
where it meets the crown of my spine—

there
thou mayest mark thy name.

Not upon my skin,

but upon the place
where devotion first learned my body.

So I surrender pigment theory.

I choose instead
the trembling, breathless proof of me.

For every shade I named as paint

returned to its first language—

blood.

Not spilled.

Offered.

Thou art the beautiful chaos
my colours keep chasing,

like a wish whispered
at 11:11—

a promise
softened into suggestion.

I am in love—

the way thou seest me

against the tapestry of dreams in thine eyes.

My soul enraptures thee,
and thou findest thyself spellbound in its hold.

While thou stood there—
stoic as cathedral stone—

watching

as though

thou wert grading

every stroke of my longing.

Thou art my poem
and my painting too.

Thou art my canvas
in every universe.

I am thine.

And if ever this portrait is remembered,

let them never call it ink.

Say only—

she loved him

until her blood learned

to resemble colour.

Decorated Ruin

Untamed Eulogy — Thu, 16 Jul 2026 08:37:51 GMT

A note reply to verses. It turned into this, and I thought I’d share it with you all.

Thank you Awaken for that spark!!

Waiting quietly for you and me.

The sky has adorned itself tonight,

the shimmer that clings to our face,

A whisper of galaxies

reflected in a fragile gaze.

where two hearts are wrapped

in hammering pulse and unfettered desire.

May the Midnight sky swallow us whole

and we would still taste each other,

tangled on volcano sand,

Trembling specks of dust

in a canvas of darkness.

Limbs salted.

Cliff looming.

The entire velvet sky expanse

Furious at how little of it we needed.

Your palm engulfs my entire becoming.

Not tender.

Not frail.

Consuming.

Lids surrendered.

A thrumming pulse.

Lips parted like a wound

that enjoys its blade.

A potent elixir.

our breath flickering on the skin.

Our sweat shines

under the starlit sky

our innocent love

shimmers without disguise.

A possession I volunteered:

A ruin.

I decorated myself.

Gold and Steel

Untamed Eulogy — Tue, 14 Jul 2026 09:41:31 GMT

Decided to share this as a post to the poetry thread. The opening line was inspired by my dear friend, , while the rest of the poem is entirely my own. I thought I’d share it with you all. Thank you Damien!!

I am the eagle. You are the hawk.

We are on a raven’s tongue.

Our story is carved into the dark onyx clouds,

Right where ancient songs are sung.

Together, we tear the quiet night apart,

High up where the stars are hung.

Two hunters ruled the wind and the tide.

The eagle is fierce with golden eyes,

And the hawk is a quick flash in changing skies.

But time is sharp. At forty years old,

The eagle faces painful fears.

His talons grow weak and his beak curves low,

So he leaves the high sky he used to know.

Alone on a sharp rock,

He tears the old feathers from his chest.

He breaks his heavy beak against the stone,

To bleed and grow brand new, all alone.

While the eagle bleeds in silent pain,

The hawk keeps watch through the wind and rain.

She sharpens her wings on the edge of the lightning,

And she drops a token on his ledge to show she is waiting.

Now his blood brings new life, and his feathers grow.

The eagle’s golden eyes begin to glow.

With brand new talons that are razor-straight,

He breaks free from his dark, shadowed fate.

He leaps back into the wide, open blue,

Where the hawk is waiting for him, swift and true.

They strike the wind together and they touch the sun.

Two wild, inspiring souls are finally made one.

And this is how gold and steel become one.

Visit Me Nightly

Untamed Eulogy — Thu, 09 Jul 2026 06:18:13 GMT

Decided to share this as a post to the poetry thread. The opening line was inspired by my dear friend, The Quantum Quill , while the rest of the poem is entirely my own. I thought I’d share it with you all. Thank you Ryan!!

Some desires don’t knock, they arrive like electricity, this is so about desire, surrender, and the quiet chaos between them.

Visit me nightly.

Kiss me tightly.

It’s a bloody blood night.

Let me drink you slowly.

Fixated fantasy.

Boomerang ideas.

Your eyes spell trouble,

a deceitful beacon.

Shuddering anatomy.

Leashed sighs.

I taste your truth,

every interred curve.

Electric heartbeat,

hacking my internal programs.

My surrender into your arms,

throwing away the keys.

Honeydew gluing together.

Allied with the Cyclones

Untamed Eulogy — Thu, 09 Jul 2026 05:40:19 GMT

Some storms arrive to destroy. Others arrive to reveal what has been waiting to bloom beneath the surface. This piece is about making peace with the inevitable finding beauty in the gathering clouds, trusting the rain, and believing that even chaos can become a quiet act of renewal.

You don’t realize I have even allied myself with the mighty cyclones.

the way clouds have pledged themselves to the rain,

the way the oceans have made their peace with the tsunami,

and,

if I may dare to say it,

the moon has taken the stars

as its faithful companions across the night.

So I have learned not to fear what is coming.

The sea grows restless first,

whispering secrets to the waiting shore.

The gulls abandon the sky.

And the trees bow their heads in reverence.

And still,

there is beauty in the coming.

In the thunder-lit sky before the rain.

In the way the clouds stitch themselves together,

thread by thread across the heavens.

And when the downpour kisses the earth,

every drop quenches a waiting thirst.

Beneath the soaked and quiet ground,

unseen longings drink in silence,

while chaos sleeps in the

heart of the parched earth.

Love in Four Movements

Untamed Eulogy — Thu, 09 Jul 2026 05:29:14 GMT

Decided to share this as a post to the poetry thread. The very second line was inspired by my dear friend, , while the rest of the poem is entirely my own. I thought I’d share it with you all. Thank you Ryan!!

This poem is my little exploration of how love can be written through different rhythms, dances, and instruments where every heartbeat becomes a beat, every touch a verse, and every silence finds its own melody.

Write me on my skin like a poem,

where music and song, words and verses dance

before they are spoken.

Lick every verse,

turn every moment into a song—

until my name sounds like home on your lips.

Your breath plays a saxophone—

slow, smoky, impossible to forget.

We move like an Argentine Tango:

one step closer,

one heartbeat surrendered,

our souls confessing

what our lips are too shy to say.

Your heartbeat is the bass,

keeping perfect time beneath my pulse,

reminding every shattered piece of me

that it was always searching for your tempo.

Your fingers linger around my wrist,

Tracing my rhythm like Braille,

as though my skin had been writing

love letters to you long before we met.

Your eyes are a piano,

playing soft preludes only my soul can hear.

We sway like a Rumba—

slow, patient,

our hearts learning that

forever can fit within a single ballroom.

Your touch is an acoustic guitar;

every gentle strum coaxes

goosebumps into a game of peekaboo

across my skin,

while every nerve begins

humming your favourite melody.

We melt into Kizomba—

close enough for your heartbeat to borrow mine,

until I can no longer tell where

your body ends and my orchestra begins.

And your kiss—

the final lyric embossed upon my body,

where every poem finds its melody

Every silence finds it voice

And

every forgotten part of me

Finally remembers

How to be written into love

Silhouette in Velvet

Untamed Eulogy — Thu, 09 Jul 2026 05:06:40 GMT

A note reply to my dear friend . It turned into this, and I thought I’d share it with you all.

Thank you Elle for that spark!!

No script, no borrowed heat.

Those eyes paint desire

across my unbruised skin.

Those lips weave every

bit of me back together,

like a blue-and-gray Persian rug.

The only place where

crimson and velvet roses exist,

and all I can do is lose

myself in the vector geometry of you.

A standoff

between gold & green—

resistance

consumed,

yielding to black irises.

Those touches sculpt

my silhouette into a masterpiece

of time and sweat.

a flush flowing upwards,

a soft blush of promised lips

remaining in the slow arch of my neck.

Love, the Gentle Fire

Untamed Eulogy — Tue, 07 Jul 2026 04:51:46 GMT

A note reply to my dear friend verses. It turned into this, and I thought I’d share it with you all.

Thank you Elle for that spark!!

May this stillness

take me

where your deep love goes.

I have never seen a love before

that could heal a broken soul.

But I follow you into the fire,

I dive into your sea of flames.

I let the burning heat hold me down,

wanting to be completely broken inside.

Instead, I find the rooms of my sadness

turning into a beautiful garden.

The cold winters inside me are melting

a strange, powerful magic

healing the wounds that never used to heal.

What a beautiful rescue of grace!

What a dance of pure joy

that refuses to leave my body.

The fire of your touch

grows and spreads inside my chest.

Your love washes away my fears

the ones that promised they would never leave.

Now, a fountain of happiness flows inside me,

found in your magical, archer eyes.

Bioluminescent Love

Untamed Eulogy — Mon, 06 Jul 2026 16:45:32 GMT

This is a continuation of my friend’s poem and I thought it was too beautiful not to share with you all. Thank you Soul !!

The moon keeps loving the ocean

in a language no soul can translate.

Every night, it slips bioluminescence into the waves,

and every tide rises just to kiss its name.

The ocean has still not been fully discovered

how deeply it belongs to the moon—

just as I have still not recovered

from the way you loved me.

People call it a storm.

People call it an obsession.

I call it loving Y O U .

They don’t know those restless waves are

only my heart running toward yours.

The wind carries the memory

of your goosebump kisses,

the tides return my prayers;

between your breath and mine,

even forever feels too brief.

We have our own rhythm—

your soul, my heartbeat;

your moonlight, my sea.

You pull me close without laying

a single hand on me,

and somehow,

that is the deepest touch I have ever known.

If love had a home,

it would be the space between

your name and my heartbeat.

So if you ever hear the ocean

roaring beneath a moonlit sky,

don’t be afraid.

It isn’t a storm.

It’s just my heart,

still learning

how to love you without drowning in you.

https://open.substack.com/pub/damiensparks/p/my-rendition?r=2ruro7&utm_medium=ios

This is my Rendition

Untamed Eulogy — Sun, 05 Jul 2026 08:11:44 GMT

This is a continuation of my friend’s poem and I thought it was too beautiful not to share with you all.

My words properly written,

my lines I’ve sought,

A heavy collision of feeling and thought.

My syllables stain you, a visceral ink,

I answer your vowels before you can think.

With an echo, an ache, and a beautiful art,

I claim every beat of your shivering heart.

“You are mine,” the cute double quotes now declare,

A boundary built from the breath that we share.

My touch is a heavy and slow semicolon;

A pause in the dark where your spirit is stolen.

We linger in balance, we break but don't stop,

As down the smooth curve of your body I drop.

I trace every line of your beautiful form,

The calm in the center,

the pulse of the storm.

Then—

The sudden em dashes cut sharp through the space—

They strike and they pin you right here in this place,

Leaving you breathless, caught up in the lines,

Where your architecture and my text entwines.

My tongue spells the consonants out on your neck,

A feverish rhythm that keeps you in check.

We ignore every margin,

we tear them apart,

And bleed to the next stanza,

heart against heart.

I press a final,

firm period deep to your lips,

The ultimate closure that slips from my tips.

The page has been written,

the boundary vext—

This is my rendition.

This is what’s next.

How I write you

Untamed Eulogy — Sun, 05 Jul 2026 07:50:34 GMT

The first line was inspired by a friend’s beautiful words, and the rest became this poem. So, I thought I’d share it.

I imagine a rainbow of glass,

frozen mid-air, brittle and quiet,

seeping every hidden font of how I write for you.

i have inked you between the spaces

that have created words to read like sentences

only to make sense

of the rhythm that turns my heart in circles.

and with each cursive motion,

my pen made love to every single page,

my every single page made love to you immensely,

cursive pieces of us into existence

like incandescent flame wire.

my soul is full of you,

my nerves are built of you,

calligraphy letters of us

caress my skin—

no longer just author and muse,

but the very blood of the stanza.

for how could your parts ever be peeled

out of my poems?

Crimson Heart

Untamed Eulogy — Sun, 05 Jul 2026 07:02:07 GMT

One beautiful line from a friend’s note inspired this poem. Here’s where it led me. Thank you !

There are no tourists, just you and I,

alone in a large hammock.

It lies between the moon and the stars,

where every shooting star is a wind chime,

celebrating our love.

We walk in beauty,

like the night of

cloudless climes and starry skies.

And all that’s best of dark and bright,

we meet in a nameless,

half-impaired gaze,

thus mellowed to that tender light

which heaven to gaudy day denies.

Let the planets keep their spin—

I’ve already found where I begin.

The comets blaze, then disappear;

you are the orbit drawing me near.

The Milky Way may kiss the turquoise sea,

yet every galaxy points to thee.

If forever has a place to start,

it starts beneath the midnight sky,

inside your crimson heart.

Before the Eyes Can See

Untamed Eulogy — Tue, 30 Jun 2026 06:46:55 GMT

This poem started as a playful experiment. I wrote down different descriptions of things on small pieces of paper and threw them into the air. When they fell to the ground, they landed in a random order. This created unexpected pairings like matching the sharp, cold sound of a dragonfly's wings with the soft, warm texture of a split peach.

Before the Eyes Can See is a poem that shows what happens when these different details crash together. I wrote it for the competition as a response to Matthew Welton’s poem, ‘June’. Instead of telling a long story, this poem simply lets the raw, real objects speak for themselves.

Before the Eyes can See

Soul-sucking magnificent,

heart-tugging thunder.

A first desire

lines the throat

before the eyes can see.

•

On the windowsill,

a split peach

bleeds

sweet, sticky amber.

The mind stops.

Falls

into the deep,

velvety pulp.

Rich fibres.

A ripeness

waiting

to be devoured.

•

Outside,

a single dragonfly

stalls

its wings

a sharp,

metallic click

against the afternoon glare.

A sudden coolness

rubbing

against that soft,

indulgent sweetness,

making the fruit

feel

more immediate

More raw.

•

Stillness

An open palm

waits.

The quiet of the hand

allows the eye

to linger.

Author’s note:

In the Lap of the Himalayas

These photographs were taken during my journey through Uttarakhand, India, a place where nature speaks in silence and every mountain tells a story.

Captured in the lap of the majestic Himalayan range, these landscapes reflect the timeless beauty of snow-capped peaks, endless valleys, and peaceful skies. Among them are glimpses of the sacred shrines of Surkanda Devi and Badrinath, nestled gracefully within the Himalayas.

Standing amidst these mountains was more than just a travel experience—it was a moment of peace, gratitude, and wonder. These photographs are a small attempt to preserve the beauty, serenity, and spiritual essence of a place that leaves an unforgettable mark on the heart.

A Spark In a Summer Night

Untamed Eulogy — Wed, 24 Jun 2026 20:02:37 GMT

At first, a forty five second summer night with the smell of smoke seemed like a very unique and exceptional topic.

But when I started writing, it turned into a beautiful story of a girl longing for her beloved. During those forty five seconds, she sees the light of the sparkler and deeply misses him. Thank you for this wonderful prompt

Image: Google

The match strikes.

First time they touch.

the water hisses,

the fire cackles.

A cloud of thick smoke rises between us.

The sparkler explodes into bright gold

Burning sharp

Burnt metal

Heavy smell of gunpowder

It smells exactly like a summer childhood night.

For forty-five seconds,

the fire devours the dark.

I wave my hand to write your name,

but the letters die in pieces.

the first letters disappear before I can finish the last one.

Your face lights up in the silver glow,

A god and a sacrifice sharing the same body.

It stings our eyes, but I do not look away.

The bright sparks leave a glowing line in the air.

For a moment, we are sharing the exact same beautiful second.

Or so I lie to myself

The sparks start to slow down.

They drop closer to my fingers.

The white flame shrinks, starved of fuel,

running out of grey coating.

It feels like a beautiful ritual that is just too short to last.

One final pop.

A tiny twist of grey smoke.

The deep darkness rushes back over us.

The fire is starved and gone.

Water gone.

Fire starved.

leaving only the lingering smell of fireworks in the warm night air

as a soft reminder of the light that just died.

proving that like this sparkler

you were never really here,

Only the ghost of you was.

only the L I G H T was.

Chasing Blue but Not Blue

Untamed Eulogy — Fri, 19 Jun 2026 21:07:48 GMT

Before you turn the pages of this collection, understand that blue is not merely a color; it is a condition of the soul. It is the language we use when the heart is too heavy for prose or too elevated for ordinary words.

“Blueism does not begin in the eye

it is born where light touches memory

it is not a colour

but a pulse drifting through the air

like the breath of a forgotten sea

like tenderness that needs no language.”

🎼 The Symphony of Blues

1. Celeste Blue: The Whisper of Hope

Like light on skin or a breeze so mild,

It carries the pure, clean heart of a child.

The horizon's first breath as the mornings commence,

It symbolises Hope before it turns to consequence.

To look at the sky and trust without knowing why,

A quiet faith beneath the vast, open sky.

2. Sky Blue: The Canvas of Freedom

Endless, wide, and brilliantly clear,

It washes away every shadow and fear.

It symbolises Freedom and a mind at peace,

A joyful space where all anxieties cease.

The color of daytime, of dreaming out loud,

A beautiful clarity untouched by a cloud.

3. Cyan: The Energy of Renewal

A vibrant spark where the light meets the sea,

Electric, alive, and beautifully free.

It symbolises Renewal and a spirit reborn,

The crisp, cold energy of a tropical morn.

It heals the old wounds with a futuristic glow,

A modern rhythm in the world's steady flow.

4. Rain Blue: The Comfort of Melancholy

Not the storm itself, but the light filtering through,

Wet pavements at dusk in a thoughtful hue.

It symbolises Sorrow and a tender Grief,

A soft melancholy that brings quiet relief.

It is the feeling of being alone but not lonely at part,

Rain that falls softly, straight into the heart.

There is a kind of melancholy that does not hurt

it is more like a garden at dawn:

a little cool, a little blue,

full of things that have not yet disappeared.

5. Prussian Blue: The Weight of Memory

Earthy and moody, almost bruised in its shade,

It carries the shadows that time has remade.

It symbolises Longing and borders of the past,

Migrations and memories too heavy to cast.

It speaks in a whisper, refusing to depart,

The permanent map etched deep in the heart.

Blue resembles the body of memory

not what happened, but what is still happening inside remembrance,

as though the past were not behind us, but within us

in a different light.

For some moments remain in us

like the soft light of evening.

6. Sapphire: The Strength of Striking Beauty

A jewel-toned fire that dazzles the sight,

Shining with purpose, intensely bright.

It symbolises Confidence and a powerful Grace,

A fierce declaration in a crowded space.

Unshaken, unyielding, through fire and blade,

This is the blue that refuses to fade.

7. Azure: The Breath of Desire

The Mediterranean sun at the peak of the noon,

A dream of a summer that ended too soon.

It symbolises Desire just before it turns into pain,

The breath you were holding, waiting for rain.

Clear, endless, and gently unreachable to hold,

A story of passion that remains untold.

8. Ice Blue: The Fragility of What’s Lost

Pale and translucent, a whisper so thin,

Like frost on a window where winter creeps in.

It symbolises Loss and a love left behind,

The faint, ghostly traces we keep in our mind.

Almost gone, like breath on a cold winter pane,

A beautiful shadow that will not return again.

It is the way things stop defending themselves against passing away

paper, light, the skin of a gaze...

Perhaps it is only a way for the sky to return to things

after their quiet disappearance, as if wishing

to pass its hand once more along their contours

before they become memory.

9. Steel Blue: The Silent, Guarded Love

Cool, distant, and modernly sleek,

It holds back the words that the heart wants to speak.

It symbolises Resilience and a Loving devotion,

Guarded and steady, hiding deep emotion.

Like someone who loves you with all that they have,

But stands in the silence, unexpressed and brave.

Blue promises no sharpness, it offers no certainty of outlines,

it does not allow things to be finished;

instead, it softens them with tenderness, as if saying:

you do not need to know in order to exist.

Because blue is not calm; it is a trembling

that has learned to endure without movement within it.

Everything is still almost;

almost touch, almost return, almost home,

it hurts the least and the longest.

10. Periwinkle: The Gentleness of Nostalgia

A blue kissed by violet, soft and refined,

A wistful, sweet feminine grace of the mind.

It symbolises Innocence and Nostalgia's sweet grace,

A pressed flower hidden in an old, quiet place.

It hums with a gentleness, soft as a cue,

A beautiful shade that forgot it was blue.

Blue is patient, it can lie for hours

upon water, upon paper, upon the skin of evening,

asking nothing of the world

except a little light.

11. Midnight Blue: The Embrace of Intimacy

A quiet room, a sudden spark,

Two hearts aligning in the dark.

Soft as a whisper, skin on skin,

Where words fade out and dreams begin.

This is the blue of love’s pure grace,

A gentle, breathless, warm embrace.

No rush, no noise, just you and me,

Lost in a deep and moving sea.

Other colours shout too easily,

blue speaks more quietly than silence

and that is why more can be heard within it—

as though the world did not wish to be visible,

only possible.

12. Indigo: The Depth of Deep Dreams

Where blue meets the edge of the velvety night,

Heavy with secrets, away from the light.

It symbolises Deep Sleep, Infinite Love, and Truth,

The unspoken wisdom of age and of youth.

The color of closing your eyes at the end of the stream,

And still seeing everything inside a beautiful dream.

Blue is the place where the world does not end at its edge,

it continues beyond softly, without noise,

and leaves behind something that is no longer an image

but the trace of a gaze that never fully closed.

Some colours belong to the surface,

but blue belongs to depth to wells, to the sea after dusk,

to those places within a person where memory no longer uses words.

“Blue is not a choice,

it is a return to the moment when things

had not yet separated from one another:

light from shadow, touch from memory.

And that is why it cannot be held,

one can only remain within it a little longer.”

“Blue resembles what remains after light has left

not darkness, but its memory;

not absence, but its gentler form.

And one looks into it as if trying to recognize

one's own vanishing without fear.”

And remember, you cannot chase blue...

it finds you when you are still.

Author’s note:

I have always felt that we don’t just look at the color blue,we look into it. It is a color without boundaries, stretching from the open sky to the quietest corners of our hearts.

This book is a small map of our inner feelings. By diving into twelve different shades of blue, I wanted to explore why some tones bring us pure joy and freedom, while others feel like a soft, comforting hug in the dark.

Thank you for pausing here. I hope you find the exact shade of blue that your heart needs today.

A Note for You

Which shade of blue belongs to you?

Which one resonates deeply with your soul and personality?

Please do let me know in the comments...

Thank you, ! for this color prompt. I know it took me a while to write my poem for it. I genuinely enjoyed exploring the different shades of blue, my favorite color and discovering the emotions and meanings they carry. Thank you for inspiring that journey.As I explored them, I found pieces of my own story reflected in their depths. Thank you for the inspiration. Here’s my contribution to the prompt you posted.

https://substack.com/@therealmarkc/note/c-276361244?r=2ruro7&utm_medium=ios&utm_source=notes-share-action