Posts Tagged ‘Poetic Lament’

Empty Coop: Revolutionary Improv Haiku Lament

June 9, 2019

They are gone, all gone.
First two, then all. Our great joy
turns into sorrow.

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Already I’m So Lonesome, Alone Again, Naturally: Revolutionary Blogging Whining Lament Free Verse Poem

May 25, 2019

Alone again.
Or is it alone,
still.
I know I should be independent,
and yet
I honestly
don’t want to be
totally.

We all have busy lives,
and we all need to respect
and give space
to others
we care for
and about.

Yes, and,
I guess I need
to learn how
to do that.

The reality is
I haven’t yet.
I expect those
I care about
to care about
the same things
I care about;
to be interested
in the same things
I’m interested in,
even if the timing
is not right.

I suppose
that’s selfish
of me.
I just had
different expectations.

And now I have to learn
to deal
with those dashed dreams
and expectations.

The expectations
that everything we did
or everything that one of us
wanted to do
would be
something that
we both wanted
to do.

But that’s not
the way it is.
The real bet is
that there’s just
not always the interest.

That we don’t
always want to walk
that yellow brick road
dressed like Buddy Holly.
(Oooh, oooh!)

I didn’t have time
before
to turn and
face the strange.
But now,
with these ch ch ch changes
I’m goin’ through,
even though things are
gonna get done,
even though there will always be
someone like her
even though the thrift shop trips
may be more efficient,
I don’t want
blue to be my color.

To My Darling, Dearest One, Post Movie: Romantic Free Verse Lament

January 16, 2019

My Darling:
My fingers fly across space and keys, anxiously tapping and pounding words which have swollen my heart this evening for far too long.
Why is the connection so slow? Why do I have to wait longingly for some electronic synapse, when the waves in my brain and my heart are racing full speed, threatening to rip the arteries between those two organs asunder.
My Dearest: Tonight we watched a movie of London and research and libraries and University and the Yorkshire coast and countryside. It was of two Literati, one hidden poet and one descendant of two artists long passed and largely forgotten. A romance. A genealogical detective story. A movie full of poetry, love requeited and not, of honesty and deception. It was a film full of scenery and sadness, of whisper and wanting, of two – facedness twice.
Loved one: It was a cinemascope full of everything you, as a romance writer, love. It was and is a tale I should and would, as a romantic poet, gladly embrace with you, fully, completely, deeply.
Except for that one moment, that once scene in that one arbor-windowed room overlooking the ocean, as the waves heaved and foamed and surged and rolled in and out, in and out. It is that moment that, for all its beauty and tenderness, will always break my heart, and will always turn me inside out, and give me pain.
Even now, my beloved, I hear the music, I feel the muse (he called her his Muse, or was it her that called him her Muse?), and instead of rejoicing, my heart is heavy with memory and regret.
Fortunately, that forbidden moment was long ago. Just as she let him drop her hair down, at last, maybe some day I can accept that love, believe that goodness can happen in those moments.

For did not Solomon come of David and Bathsheba?

Perhaps, Love, someday
my pain will away,
and with it will fade regret.
But not yet.
Alas, Loves, not yet.

Holiday Gift Giving Fails: 3 Revolutionary Blogging Haiku Laments

December 3, 2018

It might be time I/
stop guessing what gifts I should/
give. I’m not that good.
OR:
It might be time to/
stop guessing what gifts to give./
Seems I’m not that good.
=============================
When you’ve blown someone/
away with a gift, it’s hard/
to ever repeat.
==========================
Folks should know: When they’re/
not enthused getting gifts, the /
source dries up quickly.

Upon Thinking On A Deep Funk: Revolutionary Email Free Verse Lament

November 2, 2018

Her creativity,
this evening’s music muse,
wafts like a late autumn breeze
out her door,
down the hallway,
to my ears.
Peace.

My oldest creation,
son,
and his creation,
my granddaughter,
gaze,
smiling,
from my screensaver.
Joy.

Yet I,
creative meistro
sitting on a hickory’d hill,
fall’s colored leaves
glowing in the sunset;
bright moon and stars
gleaming in the dark
rural’d night,
haven’t written
for daze.
Weeks.
Blank.

Work,
government linguistics,
leaky doors,
amityville horror phermone’d bugs,
busted lights,
stalled furnaces,
all beyond the grasp
of my repair.
Guilt.

Gardens unharvested;
tall fall grasses
in the front yard
unburned,
failed wildflower experiments
where there once was so much
promise.
Melancholy.

All around me,
there is paper
and hundreds of shades
of different hues,
muse,
notes,
thousands of words
i could use.
Yet none come.
Funk.

What to do.
What to do?
Do.
Perhaps
creativity
will drop
like dew
when I do.
And I’ll rinse my face
and cleanse my soul
and refresh my heart
and free my mind.

It’s worth a try.

Why Not Go Outside? Revolutionary Blogging Haiku Lament

May 18, 2018

I confuse myself./
It’s a warm, pleasant day, yet/
I’ve stayed inside. Why?

Liking All That Nature Stuff: Revolutionary Blogging Rhyming Haiku Lament

May 10, 2018

She heaved a deep sigh/
and said her guy liked that “stuff”./
He’s sad ‘midst treasures.
A backyard of daisies, poppies and other wildflowers, NW Georgia, May 2018

But How? Revolutionary ImproVerse Haiku

March 26, 2018

I’m not ready for/
how hard things are, so must fight/
negativity.

Where She Goes Away: Revolutionary ImproVerse Haiku Lament

March 17, 2018

She’s deep in her phone/
at sunset. Pink Floyd plays: “How/
I wish you were here.”

Getting Used To Business: Revolutionary Blogging Haiku

March 14, 2018

When I’m trying to/
blog, she becomes all business./
I must learn to cope.