Two She Won’t See: Revolutionary ImproVerse Haiku

Like many sleeping/
maidens, she didn’t hear the/
horseman approaching.

Full Moon Prisoner: Romantic ImproVerse Haiku Lament

The full moon lays bars/
across my bed, reminding/
me: I’m her pris’ner.

Own Your Museship: Romantic ImproVerse Rhyming Haiku

You read what I write/
in the dark, shadowed night, but/
won’t own your museship.

Lunar Phases: Romantic Improv Free Verse Poetry

There are times we’ve shared
the face of the full moon,
The brightness of the three quarter and half moons,
the smile of the crescent moon.

Each moon phases shines
With greater or lesser light,
reminding me of the joy
I find in you.

Sometimes, though, the lunar light
goes out,
and the moon is completely
dark.

Yet, if I look hard enough,
long enough,
intently enough
into the dark, starry night sky,
I can still find its rugged surface,
glowing faintly.

Though it is shadowed,
veiled,
and hidden,
even the darkened moon
reminds me of you.

I just need to wait,
again,
for its light
to break through.

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Black-and-White-Striped Shadows On My Bed: Romantic ImproVerse Rhyming Haiku

The full moon shines through/
window blinds and reminds me /
my heart’s still pris’ner.

Fading Of The Moon: Romantic ConTEXTing Haiku

I look at the moon,/
half shadowed and half revealed./
Now, it means nothing.

Ghosts at a Utah 9-11 Memorial: Revolutionary Email Poetry

I did not see them
When I shot the video
Of thousands of flags
In a Utah field,
Each representing
a lost 9/11 victim.

But when I was editing,
They were there.
Ghosts.
Shadows dancing in and out
Of the flags.

Wives.
Fathers.
Sons.
Daughters.
Husbands.
Mothers.
First responders.

People.
Laughing.
Crying.
Holding.
Walking.
Talking.

Those who were remembering
Became they who must
Be remembered.

We must be ghosts
To each other,
To haunt ourselves
Into remembering,
so we never forget.

Pastoral Mt. Rainier Weeping: Revolutionary ConTEXTing Haiku

Rembrandt’s evening light,/
Rainier’s shadow and wildflowers’/
blooms combine. I weep.

Examining The Dark Corners: Revolutionary IMprov Poetry

We shine.
Our bright lights
pierce darkened,
shadowed corners
where scary pests
and sickening pasts
scurry from the light.

Sometimes we see
what others won’t show us.
They are shy.
They are embarrassed.
They are hurt.
They are ashamed.

They try to shut off the light,
try to redirect the beam
to the center,
where everything is already
exposed,
illuminated,
orderly,
neat,
as it should be,
as the world would want it.

We have been there already.
It is comfortable.
With them,
in that space,
we can chat,
cook,
munch,
dine,
dance,
relax,
rejoice,
rest.

We know our way around,
and it is good to
feel warmth
and happiness.

But when we feel
the dark,
the terror,
the fear,
the loneliness;
when we see
the concern,
the worry,
the pain;
it is then we turn away
from the comfort
of the center,
from the warmth
of the fireplace,
from the light
and fresh breeze
coming through the window.

It is then we take our light
and shine it
into the musty corners,
the terrored,
dank,
fetid,
hidden places,
the places of shame,
the hidden recesses
and cavities
where our friends
scream
in pain
and embarrassment
and fear,
and where they beg us
not to go.

Although we honor
and respect them
still, we shine
our lights there,
and expose
that which they plead with us
not to examine.

We pick it up,
and we turn it this way
and that,
looking at every piece,
exposing every seedy underbelly.

And when we see
what they have been hiding,
we learn about them,
and we understand them better.

And they learn
and see
that we are not repulsed,
nor ashamed,
nor sickened.

We have looked at that piece
of whateveritis,
and carefully,
thoughtfully
considered it.

Perhaps we will put it back.
Perhaps we will give it
to our friend to throw away,
or burn,
or discuss,
or hurl,
or crush.

But not to ignore.
Not to pretend it does
not exist.

It is, after all,
there.
And it is still theirs.
They must do with it
what they need to,
even if they can
do nothing
right now.

Still, they know
that we have seen it.
We have felt it.
We have considered it.
We have examined it.
We have exposed it
to our light.

In giving it back to them,
we allow them
to move forward,
with us by their side,
to support,
guide,
help,
or comfort
as they need us to.

And they know,
as they see that our light
does not fade,
nor dim,
nor flicker out,
that we love them.

My Gelatoffice Is Beneath Lenin’s Shadow: Revolutionary Blogging Haiku

Beneath the shadow
of Russian revolution:
my gelatoffice.