Posts Tagged ‘missing’

Missing My Sacred Space: Revolutionary ImproVerse Free Verse

September 19, 2017

It was my temple
when I had none.
Now, new adventures await me
far away.
for one more time
in perhaps a long time,
I walked quietly
through art’s temple.

I will miss
this place of solitude,
and tranquility.

I will miss the Russian faces
I have come to know and love
and the quilts
which exude warmth
even when hanging out
on the walls.

How do I say farewell to
the sculptures of strong men and women
forever holding
and dancing
and working
and playing
and protecting
and posing

I will miss eating
the ripe espaliered apples
nobody else but the birds
care about;
smelling the roses
and lavender;
splashing cool water on my face
during hot summer afternoons.

I will miss being awestruck
and stunned
and amazed
every time I walk through
its handcrafted doors
and slide across its Utah Lake clayed floors
and listen to the
clink drip drip drip drip drip drip clink
of its kinetic sculptures.

My heart and soul and mind,
(not my back and bottom),
will miss the not-that-comfortable chairs
and wood benches
and metal patio furniture
that gave me gothic arch views
out onto the street
or into that quiet garden space,
where I often sat
in different shades of light,
in all seasons,
to compose,
to write,
to be inspired,
to lift my soul.

I won’t miss
the few steps I heard daily
as too few people visit
this amazing place
and drink in this
the inspiration
of fabulous space.

I will miss the smiling people,
the artists,
the musicians,
the curators,
the directors,
the installers,
the docents,
the interns,
the administrative folks,
the cleaning staff,
who make it all possible.

I will miss thinking
and creating
and writing
and dancing
and soaring
and crying with gratitude,
by myself,
(and sometimes with others),
at the beauty surrounding me.

I can go
to other temples now
and get new and different inspiration.
There are far-away places
to explore and discover,
in this out-of-the-way Utah Art City,
its surprising edifice of beauty,
which embraced me
and held me close to God
when I was otherwise cast out,
this stuccoed white citadel,
will always be
Sacred Space
to me.
Pan views of Springville Museum of Art


Thumbnail Moon Black Hole: Romantic ImproVerse Haiku Lament

January 21, 2015

Some might see, smiling,/
a thumbnail moon, but I see/
a black empty hole.

Why She Misses Me: Romantic ImproVerse Rhyming Haiku

February 20, 2014

Of course she misses/
me. I’m the only guy who’ll/
treat her decently.

Abyssing: Romantic IMprov Rhyming Haiku

December 20, 2013

If you dive in and/
kiss the abyss, what are you/
missing abyssing?

Pity Party Reasons: Romantic ConTEXTing Rhyming Haiku

October 16, 2013

My pity party/
had to do with missing the/
chance to be with you.

Hiding From Thumbnail Moons

June 10, 2013

When you eat dinner/
hiding from thumbnail moons, you/
know that* it still hurts.
*feel how

Why Wait To See Me? Romantic ImproVerse Rhyming Haiku

January 13, 2013

Waiting is fine, so/
you can enjoy time kissing/
those you’re soon missing.

Missing The World Traveler: Romantic ImproVerse Haiku

December 5, 2012

For as much as she’s/
seen me, I could have traveled/
around the whole world.

Sure. I’m OK: Romantic ImproVerse Haiku

November 24, 2012

You ask if I am/
okay. I guess so, except/
I miss my best friend.


I guess I’m okay,
except that I miss talking/
to my best friend. You.

RE: Subject: Poetry — Where My Poetry Went: Revolutionary Email Response Haiku

April 27, 2012

A friend wrote the following email:
“I apologize for intruding in your e-mail/life but I MISS YOUR POETRY SO MUCH! What happened to your one-a-day poem goal? I still check your blog at least once a day. WHEN you post, my heart starts beating & I relish every word! Then there is the day after day after day of….nothing. I hope all is well with you and you are just busy.
~A starving, yearning, craving, longing, ravenous, eager, hopeful, languishing (you get the drift) poetry fan.”

In response, several thoughts came up. This is probably the most correct (and profound):

She asked where and why/
my poems vanished. She never/
grasped her muse power.