Ragtop Sunny Day Disadvantage: Revolutionary ImproVerse Haiku Lament

Don’t drive with your top/
down behind a truck full of/
full Porta-Potties

The Power Of No Shower: Revolutionary ConTEXTing Haiku

I’d give you a hug/
but I don’t know which arm’s pit/
smells the stinkiest.

Unexpected Pink Dangers On A Mountain Trail: Revolutionary ConTEXTing Rhyming Poetry

I hiked behind a pink
who suddenly let out a stink.
(S)He put me on the brink
of changing how I think

about underwear
and fresh mountain air.

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Dumped Like Refuse: Revolutionary ConTEXTing Haiku Lament

Those who I carried/
and care for dump me like piles/
of stinky waste. Why?

Or

Those who I care for/
most treat me like I’m smelly/
trash. What did I do?

Cheesehead Confessions – Diaries And Dairies Both Stink: Revolutionary ConTEXTing Haiku

I’ve found diaries./
I left them alone. I’ve learned./
Old dairies stink worse.

Stinky Car Questions: Revolutionary ConTEXTing Haiku

Why does my car stink?/

I think it’s Sauerbratten/

that’s old and rotten.

Shedding A Stinky Parka: Revolutionary IMprov Poetry

I wore my old stinky parka
because I was afraid of freezing.
Then, one day, I felt the warmth
of the sun on my face.

So I unzipped it,
pulled it off,
threw it away,
and stood there in my swim trunks and t-shirt.

And the sun was warm,
and the air was calm,
and though the lake still had ice,
the geese were flying north.

I jumped in
over my head,
and washed myself
in the frigid water.

And when I climbed out over the
slippery, ice-covered rocks,
I was clean, and refreshed,
and alive, and warm.

I left my stinky parka by the shore
and walked away.
The stink wasn’t on me.
It was something I carried.

No Toolbox Poems: A Revolutionary Email Sonnet

I wrote a quick poem for a friend (in an email), taking about … 3-4 minutes. She responded with the question: “Just for me? Or is this your standard fare?” Implying, perhaps, this question which others have asked: “Do you just pull poems out of your toolbox and send them to your friends whenever you need them?” This was my (original) response, AND an edited version I posted on a blog elsewhere:

I don’t keep poems/
in my box./
I don’t pull rhymes/
out of my sox!/

They aren’t pre-done/
for others to view!/
They’re just for fun,/
from me to you!

Because I hope, and think/
a creative rhyme/
flirts better than a wink/
any time!

So I create new poems, again and again,/
Just for you, because I can!

————
An Anti-Wink Sonnet:

I don’t send winks/
to your inbox./
Such pokes stink/
worse than my sox!/

Poems aren’t pre-done/
for others to view!/
I write sonnets for fun,/
from me to you!

Because I hope, and think/
a creative rhyme/
fits better than a wink/
any time!

So I create new poems, Seussian,/
Just for you, because I can!

Why You Should Go To Bed: A Revolutionary IMprov Sonnet

Instead of staying up
and caterwauling
and denying my busting nut
by not late-night calling,

Why don’t you instead
do what you should:
Go to bed!
Sleep is good!

So, go to your soft, king sized, where
warm exists, if only in part,
because he’s already there,
leaving dutch oven tarts.

And you can breathe deep, and drink
to my memory, and in the stink.