How To Read Aloud: Revolutionary IMprov Prose

A young relative of mine was “feeling frustrated”. She said: “Oh how I just love being able to read fast and clearly in my head, but if I’ve got to read aloud it’s as if my tongue can’t cooperate with my mind and I stutter like a lunatic..urgh!”
I responded:

You stutter and stammer and feel frustrated when you read aloud because you’ve fallen into the trap of the modern world that says “Faster is better.”

It’s not.

Would you rush a sunset?
Would you hasten the first spring song of a robin?
Would you demand that the maple’s leaves turn bright crimson faster?

The written word, spoken aloud, is meant to be caressed and savored and enunciated and appreciated. Reading out loud is not a race to see how fast you can impart information, but a performance to see how movingly you can paint a verbal picture of what the writer intended, with the word pallet given to you.

Slow down.
Breathe.
Emote.
Experience.
Enjoy.

Advertisement

Give Me A Chance: Romantic ConTEXTing Haiku

Caressing. Smiling. /
Serving. Loving. I just want/
opportunity.

Shower Rivulet Hands: Romantic ConTEXTing Haiku

Like rivulets from/
the shower coursing down your/
body are my hands.
OR
Like rivulets from/
the shower coursing down her/
body are his hands.

Why Want More? Revolutionary Iambic Napkin Poem

Women pen poems of me;
of how I put them in ecstasy.
They write of my gentle kiss.
They rave on my perfect obelisk!

Some muse of my tenderness;
Of how I touch them; my sweet caress!
While all these women faun and adore,
what drives me on? Why should I want more?

More women who’ll write poems of me?
Of how I put them in ecstasy?
Is it because of my swollen heads?
For so long blue, but now frequently red?

Is it my ego that’s to blame?
Or is it because I NOW feel no shame?
After 20 years of self-consciousness,
of being rejected, no sweet caress,
I’m finally at last, well appreciated.
Maybe it will take 20 more until I am sated …
or sedated.

Full Moon Emptiness Caress: Romantic ConTEXTing Haiku Lament

In rooms where we mooned/
full moons, does her soft light now/
caress lonely beds?

Or

caress empty beds?

Or

In rooms where we mooned/
full moons, soft light caresses/
cold and lonely beds.

Can I Handle The Touch? Romantic IMprov Rhyming Poetry

Can I handle the touch?

I think so,

for when you’ve craved something so much

you relish every bite,

every morsel and taste.

You never let lips take flight,

nor waste

the tender newness

and gentle caress

of what you’ve waited so long for,

sans haste.

Were We Still Together: Romantic IMprov Sonnet

Were we still together
Going off to bed
I might lean over
And kiss your sleepy head

Or tenderly caress
Your soft bright cheek
And ease your stress
With gentle words that I speak.

We’re now miles apart,
Yet I still long to say
Sweet words and kind thoughts
To help close your day.

My feelings have grown since I went.
Why should a night away be different?

Who Cares For Caregivers: Revolutionary ConTEXTing Poetry

She,/
SuperWoman,/
cares 4 sick/
parents,/
children,/
grandkids:

Caresses,
holds,
rocks,
feeds,
cleans them.

While she nurtures
every1 else,
who cares 4 her?

I do.

Gentle Man’s Gentle Caress Stress Relief: Romantic ConTEXTing Poem

Would a gentle caress/
from a gentle man/
ease your stress?/
Maybe I can/
relax your mind/
from far away./
That, you’ll find,/
is all I can do today.

Sharing Water With Friends- A Rescue: Revolutionary Email Poetry

May 4, 2011, 8:23 AM

She
who floats,
drifts,
glides,
pulses with waves
on the vast sea,
struggling alone,
insists on
friendship,
yet yearns for
penetrating
gazes and
soft
caress;
for deep
knowing,
for caring
fingertips,
for warmth
of being pulled,
rescued from
eternity’s depths,
held from loneliness.

He
stands in the foam,
wades into the waves,
dives deep,
out, through the surf,
to her side.

Strong, sure
strokes,
practiced for years,
never fully used,
wishing he could
extend
in full measure,
his caress,
his feelings,
his thoughts,
his soul.

He saved
friends before,
but not like this.
Not with all
the passion,
tenderness,
poetry,
soft caress
his heart has to offer.

He doesn’t want
to just pull her to shore
and wait for
someone else
to revive her.

But if that’s all
she wants, friends …

Or maybe it’s just
semantics.
—–
Resuce Addendum (9:32 a.m.)

As they,
two,
lay on the beach
together,
entwined,
he applied
the aid learned,
the touch
and caress
she yearned
for.

Could she revive
and realize
that time
and patience
and proper
application
was all
she really wanted
or desired?

No other aid
was needed.