Blue

by cunningstuff

 

Blue is my favorite colour.

I love the words that are associated with it, ’tis the subtleties that I enjoy about blue, and its diverse meanings.

The azure blue sky is a great sky to watch. The beryl blue of rare gems, strung along a necklace to decorate a beautiful throat. The blue-gray rock of the high alpine is always an inspiring sight, dangerous to get to, but rewarding when seen. An ocean’s blue-green tropics, filled with the fish and the coral, a bounty of food and beauty. The cerulean blue of our earth, the pale blue dot, our home, its color when viewed far away in the solar system from voyager, still inspiring us. The dark cobalt of rare blue glass, always an item I want to collect, but never do because I know its beauty is deadly. Indigo blue, rich with history and tapestry, the color of kings and queens, the beauty of blue in fabric. The navy blue of the sailor roaming the blue seas themselves. Royal blue, in its darkness lies a color most people appreciate, understanding its richness. The ever delicate sapphire who is actually one of the toughest bearings on earth, and makes watches last a lifetime. The exotic and super-science sounding ultramarine flares my imagination.

The off color of blue, the bawdy jokes told in earnest between strangers for a laugh. A dirty joke might appear dirty to those of innocence or at least pretend innocence  an  indecent appeal at our humor is one thing that can tie all humans together. If you are lewd and naughty, you can bring together humans in a way that we all understand, the battle of the sexes, or, in these days, the battle of sex. Nothing anymore is too obscene, at best it is off-color, those old blue jokes. We can be racy with blue humor, risqué in proper society if we are quiet enough, or chose to loud and salty in a shady lounge. If the joke is a smutty piece of ribald humor, we might get honored enough to be called a spicy and suggestive lout, but if they really liked our blue humor, we get the title wicked.

If my lips are blue, I am too cold. The mystical blue of anything opalescent, with it’s aqua shimmer and the rainbow of the galaxies. Nothing is more atmospheric than our sky, it’s azure wash over our entire planet. The bluish tones of a cerulean uniform connect the world famous Blue Angels to the sky. A cesious dye for an elderly lady, matching her chalybeous pistol in her purse. A cyaneous fog about a dark and gloomy castle in the night, under a twilight sky the ecchymotic color of a bruise. The sparkly bright gentian blooming in fields of grass.

I love blue.

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