We’re More Alike Than We Are Different: Revolutionary ImproVerse Haiku

As we split ourselves/
in diff’rent groups, we forget/
how alike we are.

Advertisements

Freeing The Caged Venus: Revolutionary Sonnet

At her old house, post omelet, rose’d Venus stood:
Scared, caged bird nervously contemplating a chance.
As she paced back and forth across her floor of wood:
Should she venture out and fly to far-off France?

It was easy for others to advise her
on how, when and what she should do, where to go.
But she needed her loved Universe to surprise her
(like when she’d dined with Maya Angelou).

With her passport, small backpack, underwear, comfortable shoes,
she took a deep breath and launched her my way living.
Experiential, experimental, however she’d choose.
Taking, discovering, still rising, loving, giving.

At her request, this is an on-going birthday sonnet.
Because her best beat goes on! She is not done yet.

Overlapping Wakes: Revolutionary IMprov Haiku

Be not sad in her/
passing, but be glad that her/
wake overlapped yours.

OR

Don’t sorrow in her/
passing. Rise! Rise! knowing her/
wake overlapped yours.

Written to a friend who’d met and been touched by Dr. Maya Angelou, who was bemoaning her passing. My friend had written this about their meeting: http://bellavox.wordpress.com/2010/08/28/my-inspiration-started-long-ago-and-peaked-the-night-i-ate-dinner-with-maya-angelou/

To a Rose At Last Blossoming: Revolutionary Blogging Improv Sonnet

A friend wrote a poem in a new blog, and then wondered about her poetic ability. This sonnet is in response (and is also on the comment page to her poem).

To a Rose At Last Blossoming

Roses don’t blossom
quickly, like the daffodil, tulip,
or dandilion,
only to fade just as quickly away.

Instead, they rise from a bushes,
born years before.
The older the rosebush,
the sweeter and longer lasting the blossom.

People glance at rosebushes in winter,
comment on their plainness;
their brown sticks protruding through dead mulch;
their ugliness, deadness, and thorns.

But when rose blossoms at last spread their color’d fragrance,
Humankind is blessed, touched and inspired by true beauty.