Posts Tagged ‘Emotional poetry’

SHHHH! Speaking Truth Quietly: Revolutionary Blogging Haiku

March 18, 2018

There are truths which need/
to be said, for your sake, but/
kept private for hers.


Where She Goes Away: Revolutionary ImproVerse Haiku Lament

March 17, 2018

She’s deep in her phone/
at sunset. Pink Floyd plays: “How/
I wish you were here.”

Lying In The Clover: Revolutionary IMprov Sonnet

March 6, 2018

LyingInTheClover_FrontYard_March2018When you’re lying in the clover
on a sunny Spring day,
you need not mull problems over;
the world seems far away.

Take off your shoes;
lay down your blanket or quilt.
Cast off your troubles and blues.
Relax yourself without any guilt.

Let your heels connect to Mother Earth.
Grab the moment to fee the sun shine all around.
Drink deep of harmony, peace, joy, healing, mirth.
Harvest insights deep and profound.

Your’re shadowed cuz your sweetheart nuzzled up to your face?
Enjoy the warmth of it all. You’ll never find a better place!

Explore Everything Children: Revolutionary ImproVerse Haiku

February 25, 2018

My daughter explores everything -- Instagram photosMy daughter explores
everything. Did I show her,/
or did* she teach me?
or does she teach me?

Bow Wow, Bow Wow, My Dawgy’s Back: Revolutionary Blogging Haiku

February 21, 2018

Golden sunset, golden retriever I'm glad she's home (next door)She steals my sweatshirt, /
my shoes, my gloves. Still, I’m glad/
she’s back and not dead.

To Wallow Or Not: Revolutionary Blogging Haiku

January 1, 2018

If you wallow and/
dwell on all things that could go/
wrong, they prob’ly will.

Such A Loss: Revolutionary ImproVerse Haiku Lament

November 19, 2017

Her hands made art, wrote/
words. Now they’ve taken who she/
*was, not all she’ll be.

*was and all she’d be.

Safe Kids Emotions: Revolutionary Blogging Haiku

October 2, 2017

That moment when you/
aren’t sure your kids are safe, and/
then learn they are. Tears.

#PrayForVegas #ParentsWorry #VictimsAreSomeonesKids

Missing My Sacred Space: Revolutionary ImproVerse Free Verse

September 19, 2017

It was my temple
when I had none.
Now, new adventures await me
far away.
for one more time
in perhaps a long time,
I walked quietly
through art’s temple.

I will miss
this place of solitude,
and tranquility.

I will miss the Russian faces
I have come to know and love
and the quilts
which exude warmth
even when hanging out
on the walls.

How do I say farewell to
the sculptures of strong men and women
forever holding
and dancing
and working
and playing
and protecting
and posing

I will miss eating
the ripe espaliered apples
nobody else but the birds
care about;
smelling the roses
and lavender;
splashing cool water on my face
during hot summer afternoons.

I will miss being awestruck
and stunned
and amazed
every time I walk through
its handcrafted doors
and slide across its Utah Lake clayed floors
and listen to the
clink drip drip drip drip drip drip clink
of its kinetic sculptures.

My heart and soul and mind,
(not my back and bottom),
will miss the not-that-comfortable chairs
and wood benches
and metal patio furniture
that gave me gothic arch views
out onto the street
or into that quiet garden space,
where I often sat
in different shades of light,
in all seasons,
to compose,
to write,
to be inspired,
to lift my soul.

I won’t miss
the few steps I heard daily
as too few people visit
this amazing place
and drink in this
the inspiration
of fabulous space.

I will miss the smiling people,
the artists,
the musicians,
the curators,
the directors,
the installers,
the docents,
the interns,
the administrative folks,
the cleaning staff,
who make it all possible.

I will miss thinking
and creating
and writing
and dancing
and soaring
and crying with gratitude,
by myself,
(and sometimes with others),
at the beauty surrounding me.

I can go
to other temples now
and get new and different inspiration.
There are far-away places
to explore and discover,
in this out-of-the-way Utah Art City,
its surprising edifice of beauty,
which embraced me
and held me close to God
when I was otherwise cast out,
this stuccoed white citadel,
will always be
Sacred Space
to me.
Pan views of Springville Museum of Art

Goddess Gazing: Romantic ImproVerse Haiku

September 10, 2017

I’d never before/
gazed into the face of a/
Goddess. Now I have.