Posts Tagged ‘Poetry’

Lost In My Own Field: Revolutionary IMprov Haiku Video

June 19, 2019

It’s strange to feel so/
completely lost, deep in the/
midst of your own field.

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Cook It Yourself Like I Did: Revolutionary ImproVerse Haiku

June 19, 2019

I’ve cooked boxed mac and/
cheese for years, so it’s hard to/
have that skill doubted.

Earth Day, Earth Life: Revolutionary Blogging Haiku

April 22, 2019

When your life is lived/
environmentally, each/
day is an Earth Day.

Earth Day, Again: Revolutionary Blogging Haiku

April 22, 2019

Decades passed since I/
cleaned the Milwaukee River./
This Earth Day, I plant.

Finally Starting: Revolutionary ImproVerse Haiku

March 30, 2019

When you’re trying to/
start, push in the clutch and brake./
Make sure you’ve got fuel.
OR
When you’re trying to /
start, push in the clutch, then make/
sure your gas tank’s full.

A Sonnet To Salute The Salutatorian: Revolutionary IMprov Sonnet

March 28, 2019

Out on a tree’d hill he stood,
walking in the buggy grass;
never caring he was that good;
never thinking to place high in his class.

‘Neath scaled hickories without effort
(it seemed), he read, wrote, studied.
With his cousins on and in X’d videos he’d cavort,
whether the paths were pulsing, dry or muddied.

He sparred with great wit and thought
as he discussed, with authors, literature.
He pondered and argued upon what he got
from reading ancient and revealed Scripture.

At last, now, as BigEP reaches a good childhood’s end,
Let us salute the brain’d heights of this Salutatorian!

Who Needs A White Pickup Truck? Revolutionary ImproVerse Haiku

March 26, 2019

Who needs a pickup/
truck when you’ve got a couple
of convertibles?
Who need a pickup truck when you can haul stiff in your convertible?

Hauling carpets and kayaks in our convertibles -- no pickup trucks needed! March 2019

Flooded By The Energized Woman: Romantic ConTEXTing Haiku

February 22, 2019

She is a very/
energized woman. When floods/
come, I fear drowning.

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.

Weird Pre-Christmas Night But It’s Okay! Revolutionary Blogging Haiku

December 17, 2018

Pre-made cookie dough,/
a drying Tannenbaum, she/
plays Yule songs. All’s right.