Posts Tagged ‘heart’

What Dreams May Be: Romantic IMprov Couplet

July 29, 2017

You’re the dreams
I didn’t know I had.

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Twere It Me: Romantic IMprov Rhyming Haiku

July 2, 2017

I see her deep pain./
I know how I would have been./
I’ll help grow her heart.

Broken Heart Silence: Romantic ImproVerse Haiku Lament

June 19, 2017

When your heart truly/
is breaking, you can’t really/
write about it much.

To Be So Caring It Randomly Hurts: Revolutionary IMprov Haiku

February 3, 2017

It’s hard for me to/
fathom why my heart hurts for/
one I don’t know well.*

OR
*someone I just met.

AND
Why/
do I/
empathize?/
Is that a surprise?/
Or just me/
and charity?

Selfless Paridise Pity Party: Romantic ImproVerse Haiku Lament

January 12, 2017

I won’t ruin their /
paradise by telling her/
about my heart ache.

Exposing The Truth Of Myself: Romantic ConTEXTing Haiku

December 18, 2016

He ripped open his/
heart and exposed his soul. The/
next morn he just ached.
OR
I ripped open my/
heart and exposed my soul. The/
next morn I just ache.

He Painted Where HE Lived: Revolutionary IMprov Haiku

September 21, 2016

Hearing of someone’s/
birth of faith brings joyful tears/
and a gladdened heart.

Couple In Church — (I’m Jealous!) : Romantic ConTEXTing Haiku Lament

July 17, 2016

Each touch of her hand/
on her man’s back rips like knives/
thru my jealous* heart.

OR
*lonely

Pixels Of Light, Words On A Page: Romantic Blogging Iambic Poetic Lament

January 7, 2016

I stand
as a man,
and expose
my soul
and my head
with dread,
and my heart.
Women want to see other parts:

The plump
gut or rump,
the face wrinkles,
the sprinkles
of grey
I won’t wash away.
For until we’ve met in person,
I’m a pixels of light version.
I could be real,
like what I feel,
or just a joke
made with mirrors and smoke.

I write words
some deep, some absurd
that say who I am,
and she’ll listen
and, if in tune,
she might swoon
and think me great,
and can not wait.
To greet me.
She feels romantically
inclined;
thinks I might be divine,
and just right.
But it requires sight.
We can’t be complete
until we at last meet.

I’m just paint on her palette;
a sculptor’s chisel and mallet
laying still and unused.
And she’s just my dreamed Muse.

I park
my car,
stand up, and from afar,
She sees no spark.
She feels no fun.
We’re done.
Over. Finito. Finished.
Visions once so delish
are now just pixels of light
that failed to ignite.

Words on a page
which once engaged
her mind, heart and soul,
no longer glow,
but now vanish,
and the mist
of possibility
ceases to be.

(Except, guess what?
It could be “Or Not!”)

Away The Scarlet A: Revolutionary Blogging Iambic Poem

November 20, 2015

It seems you cannot wash away
false tales of the Scarlet A.
No matter how untrue,
those rumors will follow you.

You can be washed pure and clean,
and know in your heart what repentance means,
as you are forgiven and changed with His love,
and readied for His courts above.

Yet others (who may be meaning well,)
will false tales and gossip tell.
And you may never have the chance
to clear your name or learn the circumstance.

So stand strong, even in pain. Sometimes all you can do
is remember again how He’s forgiven you.