Posts Tagged ‘joy’

Surprise And Joy At A Fireside: Revolutionary ConTEXTing Free Verse

August 28, 2016

How oft/
have we gathered,/
’tis eventide,/
to listen to calm,/
soothing/
music,/
followed by/
pulpit thunder.

What a great surprise/
and fun joy/
to expect deeply spiritual
teaching,
but first
get Broadway show tunes
and ragtime
from the pulpit instead.

Some wouldn’t applaud.
(It’s the chapel, you know!)
But those
in the know
held up Fosse Fingers
and waved Jazz Hands.

Why Do I Love You? Romantic Free Verse Love Letter

July 14, 2016

With apologies to Elizabeth Barrett Browning
(Written around 1996 to my wife.)
For ___ mi Schatz

Why do I love you?
The reasons seem clear to me, though
I know you, scanning the mirror,
do not always see face to face
as I do you.

Or you would know that,
as a friend, I love you as my chief,
nay, sole, confidant,the only person
to whom I can, or want, to tell my
secret desires, whims, fantasies
and dreams.

But more, you are my therapist,
helping me visualize dreams
I never knew I had,
Bringing them into focus
for us to grasp together;
helping me solve — and survive —
the problems and delusions of life.

You are my intimate, and have taught me
that joy shared is Joy realized.
Before you, fun was BeachBoySurfSand.
Now, it is rapture, bliss, joy complete,
no matter how small
(watching a sunset together)
or how climatic and grandiose
(the birth of our children).
It has taken on a synergy, where
the sum of the experience
does not measure up to the total
because you share it with me.

I love you because you give
and give, and give, and give
and though I wish you would take more,
I cannot ignore what you give
and endow so freely.

I love you because of the gift of life
you gave and are giving daily, not only
to our children
but to me.
Your selfless sacrifice
helps me accomplish
what I need to feel of worth.

Dare I say it? I love you
as a paramour
(though technically, they are only men).
You are not afraid
of dalliances with your husband,
of sending him chocolates and a dozen
red roses … or of offering your moist red roses to him, whether wrapped —
in white silk, scarlet or lace midnight —
or unwrapped, surrounded only by
your sweet perfume.
As my ship of state of mind
is battered and tossed
on the angry world seas,
you are not afraid to grab me,
pull me down and provide my anchor.

I love you for your physical beauty,
and for the extra that your spirit adds.
I gaze at you in wonder, often, because
you are so comely.
Every part of you blends exquisitely
with every other part
and then
— like frosting on a cake —
your spirit exalts the physical
to radiant perfection.

I love you because of your intellect.
Your sagacity puts into new perspective
ideas and thoughts that have confounded
the so-called wise men of our time
and ages past.
I delight in your acumen,
in our long talks together,
when I try to intellectually ramble
and you adjust, provide commentary, and
summarize in a neat, tidy package.

And I’m continually amazed at
your ability to innovate,
to think new thoughts,
and to present them flawlessly.
You’ve given me many more insights
and much more knowledge
than any of my previous so-called
intellectual friends.
Compared to you
they were like the dew
before the mid-day sun.

I love you for your gracious nature,
for your courteous, cordial,
genteel ways,
for the grace with which you carry
yourself
and for the dignity I receive when
I am with you.

Lastly — because it is
the Alpha and Omega
of our Existence —
I love you for your sanctified nature,
not only for the godly part of you
that find nuances of the SPirit
I’ve never experience and makes them
part of our thoughts,
but more,
I love you
for the spirituality you bring into
our home,
our relationship,
my life.

And so you can see …

I do love you, and though
I cannot let you see your grace, beauty
and spirit
through my eyes, yet,
perhaps,
I can polish the mirror
so you may see more clearly
until that day when we both
will see ourselves
and each other
face to face
and know
even as we are known.
Love, _______ dein David

How Her Glorious Dust Covers Us: Revolutionary IMprov Free Verse

June 2, 2016

The fabulous
quality
about the wonderful
and graceful
and grace-filled
and colorful
and shimmering
and shining
pixie-dust wonderment
she trails,
like clouds of glory,
in her wake,
is that the particles
dance
and touch
and coat
and smudge
and color
and touch
and lift,
like the rose blossom’s pollen
and sweet scent
everyone else
who knows her.

Things Might Seem Bad: Revolutionary ImproVerse Haiku

April 29, 2016

Purple martins fly at sunset, Lake Winneconne, Wisconsin, April 2016No matter how hard/
life is, and what happens, birds/
still fly at sun set.

Enjoy this YouTube video

They Always Return To A Clean Home: Revolutionary Email Free Verse Poem

April 3, 2016

putting up a martin house in Lake Winneconne, April 2016I listened to a Prophet’s voice
on the Sabbath,
then stood on a ladder/
in a frigid Wisconsin lake
to put up a clean bird house,
as directed by my father.

For us both,
holy, cleansing events
have happened
in that same water,
and purple martins
fly in
from Brazil
on the south wind.

Purple martin house at sunset, Lake Winneconne, WisconsinAddendum: Just In Time — April 4, 19:23 p.m.
My dad gave me a/
joyful high-five today:The/
martins’ scout found home.

To The Unknown Shorebirds: Revolutionary ImproVerse Haiku

June 5, 2015

Avocet shorebird at Sandy Beach, Utah LakeI don’t know what you/
are but you are beautiful./
I’m glad you flew by.

Dance Like Everyone’s Watching: Revolutionary IMprov Haiku

May 21, 2015

I sing and dance like/
folks are watching ‘cuz it lets/
them sing and dance, too.
— A haiku from the I-15 topless dancer.

Memories Of (Their) Childhood: Revolutionary ImproVerse Haiku

May 18, 2015

Rhubarb Hat Fan Club -- Utah Chapter, May 2015It’s the simple things/
in life which bring joy, like the/
rhubarb hat fan club.

Afternoon In A Surprise Museum: Revolutionary ImproVerse Free Verse

February 26, 2015

McKissick Museum at University of South Carolina - drum and dugout canoe in Native American Low Country art exhibitAs the southern
evening bells
rang,
I banged
the skin drum
and sang:
“Yah, yah hey yah hah!”

Then rubbed I
the dugout canoe,
and dreamed,
and cared not
who heard my chanted prayer,
nor that I got splinters
in my hand.

I thought of she
and he,
and that they
might be better.

But observational joy
is never a contest.

Having Good Fun: Romantic ImproVerse Haiku Lament

February 10, 2015

When I was with her,/
my life was full of joy and/
fun. But now I’m not.