I used to be me/
for me. Now I’m me so more/
people can be them.
Posts Tagged ‘be’
Why Be Me? Revolutionary ImproVerse Haiku
March 22, 2015Leave Your Prison: Revolutionary IMprov Haiku
February 24, 2014You’re throwing off the/
shackles of what others said/
you should be. Now, BE.
What She Awaits, She Must Be: Romantic IMprov Iambic Poetry
December 20, 2012She awaits a man
astride his steed
who’ll sweep her away
to Neuschwanstein
or some place similar.
She has dreamed
of him,
for she’s been told
he’ll come;
slashing through thorns,
avoiding gnashing teeth,
climbing impossible heights,
performing great tasks,
while she,
patiently,
hopefully,
longingly
waits,
sedate,
for her fate.
Such a woman
I would never want,
nor would I ever take,
Prince though I be,
for she
should fight equally
for me.
Her preparation
for my arrival,
I do not know.
But it will require
her to go higher
than I will go
low.
She may not meet me
halfway
through the thorns.
She may not need to slay
the dragons
I’ll face,
but combing her hair,
and putting on her gown,
and singing joyfully
in answer to my call
will not be enough.
She’ll have to push open
heavy doors,
bound
down
uneven steps,
sweep away dust,
mildew,
and cobwebs
of the past,
finding her way
down crooked paths,
through murky mists,
toward the light.
And when we at last meet,
illuminated
beneath the citadel’s stones,
exhausted
under heavenly spires,
our gaze,
together,
will lift us both,
together,
and we will know,
together,
we’ll have been
worthy
and worth it.
The Emergence Of The Grown, Cocooned Youth: Revolutionary IMprov Poem
August 17, 2011The young,
optimistic s/he,
running,
happy,
care free,
observing,
enjoying,
creative,
Withdrew.
From fear,
through a desire
for self-preservation,
and wrapped itself
deep within
the shell
that grew
and matured
and thrived
and took the blows
and the arrows
and the doubts
and the pain.
But one day
the cocooned,
energized,
insightful,
observant,
joyful
protected being,
who had grown
and been nurtured
and cherished,
realized it was time.
Time to emerge.
Time to reveal.
Time to risk.
Time to take
its rightful place
as owner
and operator
and thinker
of its soul
and mind
and destiny.
It was scary,
at first,
to show itself.
To say “Here I am,
again,
for the first time.”
But it felt the warmth of the sun
on its face.
The cool breeze blowing through its hair.
The moist mist of early morning
fog lifting.
The passion
and compassion
of love.
And it knew,
having been sheltered
and protected
and nurtured
and walled
for so long,
that free,
and fearless
and embracing
and empowered
and enjoying
and joyful
was where it belonged.
Here.
Now.
Being.
Cyrano Writer: Musings of a Revolutionary Romantic Poet 