Her Granddaughters Play Princess Dress-Up: Revolutionary IMprov Haiku

She need not ask why/
her grandkids act royally./
It’s their heritage.

Wearing Purple For My Princess: Revolutionary ImproVerse Haiku

She is a princess,/
not diva-like, but regal,/
with royal prospects.

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A True Princess Room: Revolutionary ImproVerse Haiku

A true princess room/
should be pink and frilly, laced/
with some green and gold.

Where Is Your Prince Charming? Romantic Email Free Verse Poem

[Click here to see my live performance of this at Speak For Yourself poetry open mic in Provo, UT May 14th, 2015.]

I 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

She 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.

Pretty Is As Pretty Does: Revolutionary ImproVerse Haiku Lament

I asked some women/
to be princesses at a/
ball. They had no gowns.