If There Are Times, Then What? Romantic ImproVerse Free Verse Poem

Are there times
when you have to do
the important things in your life?
Or are there times
when you have to ignore
people you’d rather not?
Are there times
when you have to make
tough choices
and those choices might not be
what other people want you to do?
Are there times
when you have to let go
and suffer the consequences?
Or are there times
when you have to just do
what you feel like God
is telling you to do,
regardless of what anyone else
wants you to do
or even needs you to do?

When you hit those times,
do you just have to take a deep breath,
perhaps shed a few tears,
and hope that,
if you are hurting someone you care about,
maybe someday they’ll understand?
And they’ll come to learn
that what is best for you
and what God directs you to do,
will ultimately also be
what’s best for them.

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The Atlanta Spirit Of Christmas: Revolutionary ImproVerse Free Verse Poem

Listening to some/
funky jazz/
Christmas music/
in Atlanta,/
I start dancing/
in my high top/
Smart Car/
and make some little kids/
smile and wave./
Merry Christmas y’all!

What Does That Temple Covenant Mean, Anyway? Revolutionary ImproVerse Free Verse Poem

When you define the sacred
The way you want,
You get to do
What you want,
How you want,
And you get to live
the lifestyle you want,
And keep on
doing what you’ve been doing.
And you can stay
the way
you are.

When you define the sacred
The way God does,
(because you DO know
what He means),
Then you live the way
He wants,
And you elevate
yourself
To holiness.

Trying Too Hard Means What? Revolutionary ImproVerse Free Verse

Some say that I “try too hard”.
What does that mean?

I try to be loving.
I try to be conscientious.
I try to be kind.
I try to be trustworthy.
I try to be friendly.
I try to be fun.
I try to be loyal.
I try to be helpful.
I try to be creative.
I try to be humble.
I try to be a hard worker.
I try to be spiritual.
I try to be intelligent.
I try to be visionary.
I try to be outgoing.
I try to be inclusive.
I try to be nonjudgmental.
I try to be cheerful.
I try to be non-prejudicial.
I try to be loving.
I try to be likable.
I try to be thrifty.
I try to be observational.
I try to be smiling.
I try to be joyful.
I try to be charitable.
I try to be righteous.
I try to be teachable.
I try to be the change.
I try to be a teacher.
I try to be contemplative.
I try to be repentant.
I try to be courteous.
I try to be obedient.
I try to be clean physically, mentally and spiritually.
I try to be brave.
I try to stand up for what’s right.
I try to be reverent.
I try to follow Him, to be a true Christian.
I try to be just.
I try to just be.

I am trying, but trying “too hard”?
What does that mean?
Why would I stop trying?

A Dream Of Me, Poetry, And Noam Chomsky: Revolutionary ImproVerse Free Verse Poem

This early morning,
I dreamed.
I swam with my son
and his friends in the Black Sea.

I then had a wonderful melted chocolate dessert
with a cute old couple
who had a Noam Chomsky poster,
teal, it was,
with a pink orange 4-inch paintbrush slash
in the lower left-hand corner,
hanging
in their old bistro Café.

The poster
and they
told me about Chomsky’s performance,
so I went up to the City Square.
Chomsky was performing,
reading,
and having his class read.
I became
— as is typical for me —
part of a class he taught,
where a woman couldn’t read
her poem,
written on wood in dark woodburnt letters.

So someone else read it,
and they asked me
to hit my head on the table
in front
of me “Clunk”,
saying “I could have had
a bigger apartment!”
“Clunk”.
It was a great
public
experience
I got to share.

I then walked back
toward the bistro Cafe’,
because my daughter had texted me.
As I was going back,
the ferry arrived
and emptied.
I tried crossing
in front of the traffic,
between the crosswalk bars,
and a policeman in blue and black uniform
yelled at me
and gave me a five-penny
fine.

He followed me
to the café,
where I gave him a nickel,
and the old couple helped
pay the fine
in local currency,
so I left my Jefferson head nickel
on their wooden counter.

I looked behind the counter,
and there,
in person,
was Noam Chomsky.
He was the old couple’s son!

He had to leave the bistro/Cafe’,
so I walked with him
for awhile,
and told him how wonderful
and kind
his parents were.

Then I asked
if we could take a selfie
together.
He had something wrong
with his eyes,
so he put on very thick,
dark-framed glasses.
I put on my black-framed glasses,
and the camera was upside down
and we couldn’t take the picture,
but finally we took it
and it was obvious that I was being
a pest
but I still got
the picture.

And then I went back
and found my children at the bistro/Café.
I don’t think we saw any of the city
at all
but we swam together
at night
and I played submarine
and tipped over
a large sailboat toy
like it been torpedoed …
and I didn’t even get
Noam Chomsky’s
autograph.

Drawing A Mystic Blank: Revolutionary ImproVerse Free Verse Poem

It surprises me/
to learn that,
in the place
which COULD give
the deepest insight,

I draw a blank.

And,
maybe,
that’s how it should be.

Can’t drawing a blank
be good?

I’m clear.

Why They Call It Joy Riding: Revolutionary ImproVerse Free Verse Poem

Click here for the video that prompted this poem)
Driving through
the snow-covered high
desert,
top down,
sun in my face,
wind blasting,
splitting my lips,
running my nose,
rocking to the radio,
I can’t help but look around,
see the mountain vistas,
throw my both my hands
high
in the air,
surf the wind,
yell “YEAAAAAAAAYHHHHHH!!!!”
and cry with unspeakable joy.
Damn, I’m happy!

And look!
There’s an American flag :-)!!!

Worth The Mud: Revolutionary ImproVerse Free Verse

On a cloudy Friday morning
I washed my car.
On a sunny Saturday afternoon
I drove down a muddy road
and went to the beach.

Was it worth it?

Oh yeah!
Most definitely!

OR
I washed my car/
on a cloudy Friday/
and went to the beach,
down a muddy road,
on a sunny Saturday afternoon.
Was it worth it?/
Oh yeah!
Most definitely.

Inside The Rainbow’s End: Romantic ImproVerse Free Verse Poem

Strands of color/
framed her auburn hair .
and golden face /
and I knew not where
the rainbow ended and/
she began.

I Am Charlie: Revolutionary ImproVerse Free Verse Poem

Whether for cartoonists,
or cops,
or comics
or commentators,

or dancers,
or artists,
or poets,
or actors,
or journalists,
or designers,
or satirists,
or writers,

we stand,
free,
and dance,
free,
and paint,
free,
and create,
free,
and write,
free,
and speak,
freely,
free.

Can you hear
the people sing,
and speak,
and draw,
and write,
and dance,
and act,
and be?

Je suis
Charlie.

Je suis Ahmed.