Do As You’re Told Leg Rot – ImproVerse Free Verse Lament

I did
as I was told.
I went
to the ER.
I saw
doctors, nurses, NPs.

I filled out
all the forms
as I was told.

I waited
on insurance.
Now I’m watching
my leg rot off.

What To Do When You’re Done Doing? – ImproVerse Haiku Lament

What should I do when/
there’s no more to do and no/
way to do something?

My Son, His Dog, Our Sorrow: Revolutionary ImproVerse Laments

My oldest son had to have his feisty little rescue dog, Veruca, put down today. He said “It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.” As a Dad (who also loved and appreciated her), I’ve had a surprising amount of sorrow. (Even now, it’s hard to post through all my tears). These poems reflect my feelings.

Why No Dogs
My son,
now a dad,
has to put down
his good old dog today.

Now I understand
why I,
as a dad,
never wanted to have dogs
when my kids were growing up.

Saying goodbye
is just
too damn hard.
=========

Dog Gone Hidden Crying

If I go take a/
shower no one can see the/
sad tears I’m crying.
=========

I’m Proud of You, Son

We all can avoid/
doing what we should./
It takes a real man/
to do the hard things.

Or, in haiku form:
We can all avoid/
doing what we should. Only/
real men do hard things.
=========

Not What I’d Wish For Any Dog
His dog was put down./
All said: “Rest” In Peace, but that’s/
not what I’d wish. “RUN!“

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Fill In Life’s Gaps With What? Revolutionary Blogging Iambic Verse

You may,
on the daily,
learn what He wants you
to do.

You may
obey
His call,
but that’s all.

Then what?
Do you sit on your butt?
Do you fill in your life’s gaps
with mindless crap?

I could delight
and write.
Creation
might bring my soul elation.

Or do I waste time
doing things less sublime?
Creating my inner “duuuuuhhhh”
with social media?

Or watch sports,
or comedy shorts,
or other junk to see
on TV?

When I do nichts
it makes my heart sick.
When I create
my soul feels great!

So why
don’t I
at least try?

Fill In The Gaps Despair: Revolutionary Blogging Haiku

You do what you should./
Then what? Do you stretch yourself?/
Or fill gaps with fluff?

Blue Screen Blues: Revolutionary ImproVerse Haiku Lament

I am drawn deeply and/
completely into the/
techno blue screen blues.

Facebook News Waste: Revolutionary ImproVerse Haiku Lament

I waste so much time/
on Facebook, but how else would/
I ever learn news?

Empty Coop: Revolutionary Improv Haiku Lament

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

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

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

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.