She was waiting for /
her Prince Charming, but he was/
slogging through the marsh.
Posts Tagged ‘Prince Charming’
Charming Marsh Prince: Romantic IMprov Haiku
May 15, 2016Post Ball-Enthused Blues: Romantic ImproVerse Haiku Lament
December 22, 2013Now I know what the/
prince felt like after dancing/
with Cinderella.
Post Ballroom Blues: Romantic ImproVerse Haiku Lament
October 6, 2013I at last get how/
Prince Charming felt after he/
met Cinderella.
Hard To Judge: Revolutionary ImproVerse Haiku
August 9, 2013I wonder how she’d/
respond if the slipper were/
on the other foot.
Where Is Your Prince Charming? Romantic Email Free Verse Poem
February 1, 2013I wish not
for a prim
princess who sits,
alone,
combing her hair,
filing her nails,
in a tall tower,
waiting for me
to struggle
through thorns
and fight dragons
to rescue her.
Rather,
I wish for
a fair
yet somewhat disheveled
queen
who left her
safe haven;
and arrives
at my side,
in the middle of
an uncharted wilderness,
as bloodied and scraped
from life’s thorns
as I am,
yelling “Achtung, Baby!”
as she alerts me
to the dragons
we’ll slay
together.
What She Awaits, She Must Be: Romantic IMprov Iambic Poetry
December 20, 2012She awaits a man
astride his steed
who’ll sweep her away
to Neuschwanstein
or some place similar.
She has dreamed
of him,
for she’s been told
he’ll come;
slashing through thorns,
avoiding gnashing teeth,
climbing impossible heights,
performing great tasks,
while she,
patiently,
hopefully,
longingly
waits,
sedate,
for her fate.
Such a woman
I would never want,
nor would I ever take,
Prince though I be,
for she
should fight equally
for me.
Her preparation
for my arrival,
I do not know.
But it will require
her to go higher
than I will go
low.
She may not meet me
halfway
through the thorns.
She may not need to slay
the dragons
I’ll face,
but combing her hair,
and putting on her gown,
and singing joyfully
in answer to my call
will not be enough.
She’ll have to push open
heavy doors,
bound
down
uneven steps,
sweep away dust,
mildew,
and cobwebs
of the past,
finding her way
down crooked paths,
through murky mists,
toward the light.
And when we at last meet,
illuminated
beneath the citadel’s stones,
exhausted
under heavenly spires,
our gaze,
together,
will lift us both,
together,
and we will know,
together,
we’ll have been
worthy
and worth it.
Last Time is Charming for a Short Prince: Romantic Poetry
August 3, 2009The gauntlet was thrown:
a poet sought!
But yet,
invitations of meeting
were deleted with no regret;
they went for naught.
yet again, another time
he casts his bread
upon her swirling waters;
leaves his rhyme
in her head,
and asks:
What is she searching for?
Really?
An intellect to match her own?
With me she’s home.
A writer, witty and bright?
I’m that (if I can avoid being trite).
Six foot oh oh oh
I’m the wrong height for her stilettos.
(Sigh).
Is that the only reason why
I’m not the guy?
(Sigh).
Cyrano Writer: Musings of a Revolutionary Romantic Poet 