Rain On My Parade? So What? Revolutionary IMprov Haiku

When folks get drenched to/
their cores, their souls more eas’ly /
find paths to connect.

Cold May Day: Revolutionary Blogging Free Verse Lament Poem

May Day
always
was,
in every way,
bright and cheerful and
colored with blossoms
from our yard.

Roses.
Lilacs.
Dogwoods.
Camellias
Kornblumen.
Straw Flowers.
Daisies.
Periwinkle.
Rosemary.
Lavender.
Camomille.
Sage.
Mint.
Grape Hyacinths.
Sometimes even late tulips
and plum blossoms.

Full bouquets,
ding-dong-ditched
on doorsteps
for the neighborhood,
for children’s teachers
— piano, dance, acting, spiritual
and intellectual —
and scholastic staff.

Surprises
for them
and us.
Messages
of love
and remembrance
and appreciation.

But children grow up
and teachers grow old
and people move away
and on,
and invitations
for the next generation
are forgotten,
and friendships
are dissolved
or wither
and die
from lack of care
or abuse.

This year,
our last here,
blossoms are few.
There is a cold,
constant rain,
and even if there were flowers,
there would be few to
grant bouquets to.

Sorrow permeates
this day,
our last May Day
here in this
botanical wonderland,
where everything grows
and blooms
and thrives
except cacti
and prickly pear.
Ironic that,
as our time here
dies,
Spring is so slow
to arrive.

I would take a photo
of the late dogwood blossoms
and the just-emerging,
faintly-scented lilacs,
but my battery
just died.

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The Real Mexican Food: Revolutionary ConTEXTing Haiku

It’s rainy and cold,/
but still the line wraps around/
the Red Iguana.

Empty Music Row During A Light Rain: Revolutionary ImproVerse Haiku

An Advantage of/
living in Seattle: Rain/
doesn’t bother you.
OR
An Advantage of/
Living in Seattle: Rain/
don’ buffuh you none.

Music Row To Yourself: Revolutionary ImproVerse Haiku

It’s easy to have/
Music Row to yourself. Like/
walking in the rain.
#EmptyMusicRow

Super Bowl Sunday Home Field Advantage: Revolutionary ImproVerse Iambic Poem

The cold and rain gives way/
to early morning fog and mist./
The Arizona desert in Phoenix/
is not supposed to be like this./

I’ll always revel in something different.

Returning To Seattle: Revolutionary ImproVerse Haiku

Giant red cedars./
Moss. Ferns. Rain. Gray skies. Traffic.
I don’t miss a thing.

Women, Umbrellas, And Protection: Revolutionary ImproVerse Haiku

They sought protection/
outside from the elements,/
and inside from sin.

23 Minute Movie: Revolutionary ImproVerse Haiku

When a Sundance film/
turns into a raindance watch,/
the edict is: “Just leave!”

Homesick For Rain: Romantic ImproVerse Haiku

She’s so homesick that/
I thought I’d write and tell her/
how hard it’s raining.