Who Am I: Romantic IMprov Rhyming Poem

Confused /
by femme attitudes,/
I soon knew/
I must face the task/
and ask/
a desired woman/
a difficult question.

Thinking twice,/
I sought advice/
from a female friend./
She looked at me, and then/
She queried, soft and slow: /
“Why ask me? You are Cyrano.”

And I recalled there’s always room/
for another white plume.

Chastising Christian Eric: Revolutionary ImproVerse Sonnet

Oh Christian Eric, thou poor fool./
Rox Lisa wants to make you drool,/
while I, Cy, sit and dream of her,/
Mine is but a dream deferred.

For she somehow has chosen you/
to stir your magic verbal stew./
While my attentions are ignored/
And get discarded out her door.

And that’s where I don’t understand/
how I, a kind, romantic man,/
can be cast off as a verbal suitor./
Are you that much younger and cuter?

If only I had half the chance/
As you to pursue her in romance!

Remembering Who I Am: Revolutionary ImproVerse Haiku

Just when I thought life/
was falling apart I found,/
again, the white plume.

Calling Cyrano: Romantic ImproVerse Haiku

He begged you to pen/
his proposal poem because/
you were his first choice.

To A Woman Who Nose How Men Are: Romantic IMprov Email Sonnet

I could be, you know,
her Cyrano,
(albeit, I suppose,
without the pronounced nose.)

I mean, I do have one,
(most breathing men do),
but the nom de plume’s for fun,
not some large thing I often blew.

For a true poet, instead,
may pose as Cyrano to discuss
the improv poetry in his head;
NOT his proboscis!

I hope she’ll consider if she’d soon deign to meet,
where I will woo her with words witty and sweet.

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.