Impressing Women: Romantic ConTEXTing Free Verse

Executive jets
To desert
desserts
mean nichts to her.

Instead,
gazebo waltzes
and
rolling down hills
feed her soul
and
let her fantasies
take flight.

In Search Of Wendy Peffercorn: Romantic ImproVerse Haiku

If I remind folks/
of The Sandlot’s “Squints”, where’s my/
Wendy Peffercorn?

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Surprise Who Rocks Not At BYU: Revolutionary ConTEXTing Haiku Lament

It was tragic that,/
with edgy music, only/
the old and young rocked.

Under The Phantom Chandelier, Fantasy: Romantic ConTEXTing Haiku

Beneath the Phantom’s/
chandelier, we created/
our own fantasy.

What You Can’t Outrun: Romantic IMprov Haiku

Almost ran away/
but then realized: You can’t/
outrun fantasies.

Tennessee Fantasies: Romantic ImproVerse Rhyming Haiku

I’ve got Tennessee/
fantasies. Don’t Knox(ville) it/
’til you’ve played them hills.

Fulfilling Fantasies: Romantic ImproVerse Haiku

She keeps fulfilling/
fantasies: Young, a doctor,/
southern literate.

Let Flights Of Fantasy Live! Romantic IMprov Haiku

Romantic poets/
must be allowed their flights of/
fantasy* to live.

OR
… their *dreams and/
fantasies to live

If She Knew: Romantic Blogging Haiku

If she knew I thought/
of her that way, would she be/
surprised? Or does she?

Xanadu Revisited With Codeine: Revolutionary ImproVerse Free Verse Poem

I lay,
room spinning,
throat choking me,
wondering what was reality
and what was dreamscape
fantasy.

I wondered if I’d become as Coleridge,
if I should take up my pen and write and write and write
of things seen in fantasy vision,
of women danced with and light cotton gauze summer dresses,
of time lost in a solitary tick of the clock,
seeming to go on forever and yet being a moment.

Or was it longer?

And as the codeine cough syrup flowed through my veins,
I felt myself elevating above the bed and spinning and turning and collapsing again down,
and wondering if I would never rise again.

But determined to rise I was.
Determined not to die and be found by my mother,
wide open I’d died,
smelly rising of flesh
when she’d come in the morning,
but instead,
sitting up,
swinging my feet down
so they once again touched solid ground,
and did not dance in the air.

I determined to find me there in the morning,
codeine free,
empty,
and willing to deeply drink not drought
but the draughts of
Springville springwater.

If this seems foolish to some,
so probably seemed Xanadu foolish then.

And will someone knock on my door?