Posts Tagged ‘vision’

A Day Of Seeing: Revolutionary ImproVerse Rhyming Haiku

March 19, 2014

Major changes are/
coming my way as I say:/
“I see” and “I see!”

Valentine’s Day Vision: Romantic ConTEXTing Haiku

February 14, 2014

I see a vision/
I want to tell her, but I/
fear how she’ll judge me.

Why I Write: Revolutionary ConTEXTing Haiku

October 20, 2013

As I see, I write./
Then, I see and enjoy more,/
and receive more joy.

Who I Write About: Romantic IMprov Sonnet

September 12, 2012

Who do I write about?
You know they’re about you.
You may outwardly doubt
but gaze my verse through.

You may argue
and not believe what I say.
I know that you
can’t watch yourself play.

You may deride
and hold my words in derision
and may cast them aside
because you don’t see my vision.

You may not see you that way, but I do.
No matter what you say, my vision is true.

So Much Creativity: Romantic Blogging IMprov Sonnet

July 24, 2011

It will be strange to see,
at day’s end,
rhymes and lines of so much creativity
honestly emoting again.

To know of the fantasies
that were, throughout the day,
laid down in visions and dreams
because a romantic had something to say.

To read of the beliefs
he allowed himself to feel,
but at the end see the griefs
he could no longer conceal.

And then to learn, as day faded to night,
it was mused deception. Out goes his light.

Sources Of Truth: Revolutionary ConTEXTing Haiku

July 10, 2011

Regardless of source,/
Truth is absolute. You don’t/
require a vision.

The Muse’s Life Exposes My Dream: Revolutionary Email Prose

November 30, 2010

I suggested a meeting.
It is unusual.
She might think it’s silly.
The idea came after she told me about her planned week.
The desire came after she said she couldn’t meet on Tuesday or Wednesday because she was busy.
And then she told me what she was doing.
When I suggested what we could do, she maybe thought I was just trying to be nice.
Trying to be with her.
Attempting to meet her half way.

But what she didn’t know…
What she couldn’t know …
Is that her daily existence
Has been my vision,
My dream,
For decades.

She, daily, does what I’ve wanted to do:
– Helping children read
– Teaching children to write
– Showing through example how to learn, how to comprehend, how to express feelings and thoughts and desires and actions, from generation to generation,
As storytellers, written and oral, had done for centuries.
As my storytelling parents, aunts, uncles, grandparents and other relatives and done in Wisconsin, Canada, Germany, Norway for years

Taking that observational, sharing, teaching gift and passing it on,
Was something I treasured doing
As my own children grew in their suburban – yet surprisingly diverse and ethnic – elementary schools,
Telling stories my ancestors,
And ancestors of others,
Had told for centuries,
Watching their young faces light up,
Seeing their eyes grow wide with wonder and understanding as I explained how the redwinged blackbird perched and warbling on a cattail, benefited from the muskrat house nearby, how the insects it ate flocked to that house because of the scent and the leftovers and the dung, and how the muskrat family owed a debt to the bird there, who stood as unknowing, unpaid sentinel, warning of approaching danger,
Having the teachers and parents and children exclaim “How do you KNOW that?!?”, realizing I’d learned it from my father and his parents and aunts and uncles and cousins, in the marshes of the upper Midwest.

She didn’t know that my dream, my vision, developed them, and still is now, to take young, impressionable inner-city youth out into the woods, streams, lakes, rivers, marshes — any wild places — and teach them to observe, to listen, to see, to smell, to watch and gaze at nothing at all, to hear themselves think, far away from the grittiness and noise and hustle of the city, to show them how to feel warm and cold and nature and silence and the symphony.
And then to teach those young people to write, to draw, to word or ink sketch or story tell their visions, their observations, their lessons, so that the oral traditions would continue.

She doesn’t know that, what she does every day, I yearn to do.
That when people ask me: “What would you do, if you could?”
the answer is always:
Exactly what she does.
She might think it’s odd that I want to join her in opening the children’s eyes to the world of possibility and observation.
She might think it strange that I would love to sit and read and write and tell stories not just to them, but with them.
She wouldn’t know that it’s not just a great meeting.
It’s a great life.
And it’s where I’m headed, someday.

Covering Your Mind: Revolutionary ConTEXTing Haiku

October 20, 2010

A friend told me she didn’t like to wear a hat, because she felt like it covered her mind and prevented her from getting inspiration. As I was driving to Utah, I took that one step further by driving with my convertible top down the entire way (even when it was below freezing on the Utah/Idaho border) … and I penned this haiku about how I can see more clearly with the top down:
You never know what/
possible visions you miss/
covering your mind.

From Wagging Finger to a Hug: Revolutionary ConTEXTing Haiku

May 13, 2010

She who once wagged her /
finger, now embraces me/
and shows her vision.

OR
She who once wagged her /
finger, now embraces me/
with love and vision.

Getting hugs we need: A revolutionary IMprov sonnet

March 4, 2009

An eternal question: Why is it so much easier to get the hugs we want than the hugs we need?

The hugs we want
come from our greed;
which is more easily seen
than the hidden what we need.

Our greed is exposed
with a yell and a shout:
“Give me something NOW!
I can’t do without!”

But the need doesn’t show;
it in our shadow resides.
And even friends don’t know
what we choose to hide.

But sometimes someone with vision and clarity
hugs us, seeing what we’re afraid for them to see.