Your Turn to Scripture: A Revolutionary Email Poem

Ask, and ye shall receive.
Seek, and ye shall find.
Knock, and it shall be opened unto you.
Wer klopfet an, den wird es aufgetan.

And Elijah went upon the mount, and a strong wind came and rent the rocks asunder …
but The LORD was not in the wind.
And after the wind came a fire …
but The LORD was not in the fire.
And after the fire, an earthquake …
but The LORD was not in the earthquake.
And after the earthquake,
a
still,
small
voice.——-
You have asked.
I’ve given.
You’ve sought.
You found.
You’ve knocked.
I’ve opened.

And after the wind,
the fire,
and the earthquake …
a still,
small
email.

Your turn.

Persisting Perhaps: Romantic Email Sonnet

Why do I persist?
It’s like this:
You seem amusing,
though slightly confusing.

You seem intelligent
(although
I never seem to know
where you went!)

Your smile, your hair
your face seem pretty.
Yeah, I care
that you’re in my city.

And I will not, unlike lesser chaps,
be discouraged by a simple “Perhaps”.

Full Moon Dreams: A Romantic ConTEXTing Poem

I dream I am with U tonight,/
full-moon’d romance in the air./
We lay 2gether as moonlite/
shimmers in yer hair./
All perfect, it seems,/
’til the end of my dreams.

Holding Watch at the Cave Entrance: A Revolutionary ConTEXTing Poem

Just so/
you know/
where I went:/
I’m Annticipating,/
and waiting,/
where I was sent./
You can’t say/
I’m running away./
I’ll not stray/
from where you/
told me to/
stay.

Follow Up To English Rose Sonnet: Revolutionary IMprov Poetry

I wrote you a sonnet.
Some called it my best yet.
But still,
when last night’s thrill
had faded away
the next day,
instead of saying something engaging,
it seemed you were bent on raging.
“You’re emotionally driven”
was what you said,
and I could imagine eyes rolling
back in your head.
And your face turning red.
And I’ll tell you the truth (if I dare):
I wanted to disconnect right then and there.

Asking a Siren Friend For Help: Revolutionary ConTEXTing Poem

My friend and client (and Siren, Medusa, Goddess) Erin at Sweet Lily Salon (www.sweetlilysalon.com) does my hair organically and gives me advice about asking women out, especially when I’m feeling “out of my league” (which, thanks to her, happens VERY infrequently). I wrote this to her on the eve of something scary which, ultimately, never happened.

My fear’s about/
going out/
with a TV/
Personality./
Yes, I dared!/
Now, I’m scared!/
What’ll she think of me?/
I can’t seduce;/
Eek! Cute’s no use!/
But do/
words woo?

LSD? LDS? – Revolutionary ConTEXTing Poetry

LSD? LDS?/
We’ve all stuff in our past, I guess,/
2 make us think we can’t get along./
What if we r wrong?/
What if r compassion and charity/
lets us c/
we/
clearly?

Sonnet on an English Rose: Romantic IMprov Poetry

The dew shimmered
on a rose’s petals pink.
It gathered there
as he made her think.

His words reached her deep reality,
and brought her to the brink
of a shuddering finality
with dew-moistened petals pink.

And the poet surprised her
with his words and feelings new,
whispered deep inside her,
where they, moistened, grew.

Could he, through word and letter,
be the only one who’d get her?

Rose-Coloured Introduction: Romantic Email Poetry Series

[In response to an email]

Dancing with our eyes closed/
is better than dancing idol-y,/
for the visions viewed with those/
optics allow us to see/
what your life, Rose,/
can truly be./
Now that I’ve reached back,/
what will be your track and and tact?

She responded:
Moses supposes
that roses were for noses/
and he did suppose this erroneously./
For Roses love roses/
for Cyrano imposes/
his prose upon her so romantically./
If Rose would propose/
that a time for some prose/
would give her delight most joyously./
Cyrano would woo her/
with roses and proses/
to tell her his dreams in varying degree./
Then Rose she would dispose/
herself most attentively./
To listen and laugh/
To share unabashed she supposes/
an interesting meeting would be.

Ah, could this nose/
sniff such a tender Rose!/
Then we would both suppose/
that the path we chose/
kept us on our toes/
whilst waiting for the close/
of the non-prose/
was the correct one,/
and that would be fun.
(Your poem, by the way? Nicely done!)

Rose blushes and glows/
at the knowledge that her prose/
received accolades so readily.

She greatly enjoys/
the wit he deploys/
in her direction so elegantly.

With rhyme and with reason/
she finds that the season/
for seeking a mate is upon us you see.

The spring not belated/
could find us twitterpated/
if we were to meet ceremoniously.

With poems he charmed her/
completely disarmed her/
swept off her feet deliriously.

(Why thank you kind sir, it is the curse/blessing of many years of reading Dr. Seuss. Greatly enjoyed your response and felt that your missive should be equally met. Best response EVER!)
Merci beaucoup.

Thank you, dear Rose,
for your kind accolade.
Just this past summer
in the Fremont Parade,

I was Sam.
Sam I was!
I worked hard
there because

That Solstice Parade,
Whether in shade
or sunny,
required cops to get paid!

Yes, that funny
parade
cost money!

What does that
have to do with you?
Nothin’ much,
save your wit beaucoup
should, agreed,
be equally met.

But now what?
A verbal pet
though we haven’t yet
met?

And what does that get
either me
or you?
A rose wet?
Petals moistened with dew?
Merci beaucoup
indeed!
What do you now need?

Phoney Phoning A Mall-Walking Woman: Revolutionary Email Poem

I think I was mauled
at the mall.
I tried call
ing you twice.
No dice.
It seemed a mistake
(or the number is fake).
Either way
it’s now your turn to say
what you want.
I punt.