No Frommage Decoutage’: Romantic ImproVerse Rhyming Haiku

She’s got a lovely/
decoutage’, one that isn’t/
made out of frommage.

Flashes of Beautiful Brilliance: Romantic ConTEXTing Rhyming Haiku

There were quick flashes/
of brilliance*, moments that she/
never saw him see.

OR
*beauty

Harmonic Memories Of A Sunset Float: Revolutionary Blogging Sonnet

Gazing at her golden hair
and softly glowing skin/
made me wish I was again there.
A Midwest lake: I’m diving in.

I float in the sunset,
and lay there, half submerged;
half warmed by sun, half cooled with wet;
harmonizing breathing and chirping birds.

An hummed experience of oohhmmm that was new.
A sung peace that tuned my innermost core.
The harmonic returns again as I view
her golden-toned decoutage’ once more.

She somehow can carry within her calm face
the memories and tones of another peaceful place.

Prepare Her Garden: Romantic ConTEXTing Haiku

Creamy decoutage’./
We’ll search for and gather rocks./
I’ll till her garden.

Tempting Photos To Know You: Romantic Email Sonnet

Bikini’d woman,
legs sans Frommage’,
lures me with photos
showing her decoutage’.

Not the bare midriff
with french-cut thighs,
but the conservative sweater:
THAT captures my eye.

And though she may think
that tempting photos capture,
it’s her witty banter and prose
that sends me to rapture.

For it’s a woman’s heart, mind and soul
that draws attention to where I want to go.

Staring at the Inner You: Revolutionary IMprov Poem

I wish I could figure out
how I feel about you
but I have no doubt
that I do feel about you.
I think that will suffice
and I’ll just be … nice.

(Oh, thou blonde vixen!
With decoutage’ rare!
How can we ignore you
and not stop and stare?!?!
But some of us
must avert our eyes,
and avoid the fuss;
not be surprised,
for to fully view you
would, like flamming rockets
our minds undo,
and burn our eyes from our sockets.)

To glimpse the regal majesty and stare
would take us into higher, rareified air.
Could we survive?
No, not in the least.
But ’twill be good to have been alive
and participated in your feast.

Smiling Decoutage: Romantic IMprov Poem

 I love your decoutage’

and smile.

 It seems so whimsical,

I could stare awhile/

and wonder/

what’s under/

neath … /

those teeth!

Admiring More Than Your Profile: Romantic Improv Email Poem

Oh, I know… /
we’ve danced before/
or flirted, /
or something similar,
of that I’m sure…
and now, like a cheesehead /
drawn to frommage,
I must confess to admiring/
your decoutage’ …
and your profile.

Continental Trolley? Really?: Revolutionary Blogging Prose

A gentle summer breeze flows like gentle, lapping waves over me, ebbing, flowing, and cooling the bright sun streaming through thick-leaved trees from a cloudless azure sky.

Tanned, chemisette-wearing women float by like the undulating colors of a rainbow after a sudden August downburst at sunset. Their long, limber arms and legs, their dancers’ hips, rhythmically sway to the gentle salsa, samba and jazz beats that flow over the orange stucco portico where I observe, write, and inwardly dance.

Across the median’d, deeply-shaded street, a European trolley clangs its familiar bell as it, too, sways past ornate, wrought-ironed passenger stations and street lamps. I smile at the statuesque blonde eating her passion fruit next to me. A lone, glistening, drop of juice glides unnoticed (by her) down her bronzed decoutage’ as a foreign, yet familiar, song from long ago tells of similar beauties on a Brazilian beach. A dozen foreign tongues from low-slung chairs seem to harmonize as the gentle saxophone tones make love in low moan.

It seems so … cosmopolitan.
So … continental.
So …
Salt Lake City?
Really?

Enjoying Your Cheese: Romantic ConTEXTing Iambic Haiku

As long as your sweet/
decoutage’ is milk creamy,/
like frommage, we’re fine.