A Fair Rhubarb Warning: Revolutionary IMprov Rhyming Haiku

Stalk red rhubarb’s stalk/
if you dare, but eat not her/
poison’d green leaves fair.

Cold May Day: Revolutionary Blogging Free Verse Lament Poem

May Day
always
was,
in every way,
bright and cheerful and
colored with blossoms
from our yard.

Roses.
Lilacs.
Dogwoods.
Camellias
Kornblumen.
Straw Flowers.
Daisies.
Periwinkle.
Rosemary.
Lavender.
Camomille.
Sage.
Mint.
Grape Hyacinths.
Sometimes even late tulips
and plum blossoms.

Full bouquets,
ding-dong-ditched
on doorsteps
for the neighborhood,
for children’s teachers
— piano, dance, acting, spiritual
and intellectual —
and scholastic staff.

Surprises
for them
and us.
Messages
of love
and remembrance
and appreciation.

But children grow up
and teachers grow old
and people move away
and on,
and invitations
for the next generation
are forgotten,
and friendships
are dissolved
or wither
and die
from lack of care
or abuse.

This year,
our last here,
blossoms are few.
There is a cold,
constant rain,
and even if there were flowers,
there would be few to
grant bouquets to.

Sorrow permeates
this day,
our last May Day
here in this
botanical wonderland,
where everything grows
and blooms
and thrives
except cacti
and prickly pear.
Ironic that,
as our time here
dies,
Spring is so slow
to arrive.

I would take a photo
of the late dogwood blossoms
and the just-emerging,
faintly-scented lilacs,
but my battery
just died.

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Third May Day Warning: Revolutionary ConTEXTing Haiku Rhyming Lament

This is the third May/
someone I cared for pushed me/
away. I don’t learn.

OR
3 strike rule.

OR
Third May Day Warning.

A Nearly Perfect May Day: Revolutionary Free-Verse

It was a nearly perfect day. He:
Arose refreshed and drove the freeway through early-morning mists with no traffic;
Got lost in a bucolic farming community;
Parked next to an old pickup truck driven by a guy with a John Deere hat;
Watched an American flag flutter in the breeze by the dawn’s early light;
Surprised someone with May Day flowers plucked unexpectedly from his herb garden;
Got to know and laughed and conversed with the elderly;
Tried to help someone;
Explored Word(s);
Cheered as friend’s young nephew scored in an exciting comeback at a Little League game;
Helped someone feel more warm and comfortable;
Shivered in a light morning drizzle that didn’t fog or mist his glasses;
Clandestinly sat close to and was warmed by someone under a blanket;
Made someone smile;
Explored an almond torte, a raisin tart, and a pastry-wrapped sausage at a Dutch bakery;
Was refreshed and warmed after the game by a bowl of Pea Suppe almost as good as Grandma Bertha’s;
Got free bbq;
Avoided junk food, cigarette smoke and bright lights;
Tried to do something new;
Got lost while driving … again (his favorite activity);
Saw an old church steeple pierce a newly-opened blue sky;
Explored an old town;
Visited a familiar place he’d never seen before;
Got on the water;
Laid out at a beach;
Straightened out the s-curves with the top down on a scenic shoreline drive;
Saw sunlight stream through low clouds and paint patterns on the sea;
Returned, and came back;
Helped a friend escape;
Sampled more ethnic food;
Sang his lungs out;
Danced his heart out;
Brought down the house;
Laughed deeply, sincerely, and well;
Engaged in deep, rich and meaningful conversation;
Made a new friend;
Kept an old friend.

It was a nearly perfect day except, sometimes,
when he thought of you …
and wondered where you were.