Romeo Smells Roses: Romantic ImproVerse Haiku

I stand alone midst
roses. This balcony calls
for a Juliet.
OR

He, alone, smells the
roses. Yon balcony begs
for his Juliet.

My Memory, No Video, Remembers: Revolutionary IMprov Free Verse Poetry

He saw

a desert picture,

Mojave,

her costume,

her children,

the stage,

and remembered.
Somewhere,

in Ecotopia?

there is video

proof:

A costume’d man,

Teenage
Mutant
Ninja Turtle
(popular the first time around)

standing on a balcony

stage,

as soft light

through the patio window

breaks.

He’s surrounded by

young ballerinas,

Merry Misses,

missing the raindrops

and the mist,
laughing,

skipping,

she directing.

Were there tissues

and cloth

and streamers?

Moving,

Swirling,

Dancing

around him,
(old yet young,
giggling)

chanting:
“excellent.
Excellent!
EXCELLENT!”

It was her first
video choreograph.
It was finished,
parked,
and lost.

He never saw it,
that videoed memory,

most excellent,
but in his mind,
he can recall
those better,
more pure
days,
and dances.

Even without

the video,

taped,

and the paper mache’

green and purple,

long since crushed

and lost

turtle head.

Seeing hats of green,

he remembers.

She

has not strayed.
Her art

reminds him

to be

mutant

excellent.

 

 

One Degree Above: Revolutionary ImproVerse Haiku

With hands outstretched, I/
take my first chance to savor/
a tropical rain.

To The Blonde, Dancing: Revolutionary ConTEXTing Haiku

Woman, alone, danced./

Solo, I (in balcony),/

watched and joined with her.

Almost Singing On Your Street: Romantic ConTEXTing Haiku

Your porch balcony/
beckoned to me o’er your street,/
and I almost sang.

Cyrano Needs To See: Revolutionary Email Sonnet

As you know,/
Cyrano/
did much of his best work/
orally,/
and verbally,/
under the balcony./
Not just a written poet, he!/
His muse was finest,/
and at its divinest,/
when he could see,/
Roxanne./
(“But”, you’ll say, “you can’t see/
me!”)
In my mind I can.

Wishing For You On Desert Stars: A Romantic IMprov Limerick

I wish you were here with me/

upstairs in South Mountain’s balcony;/

Looking up at Mars,/

and thousands of desert stars,/

as far as our hearts could see.