What We Spoke Of At The Dance: Revolutionary ImproVerse Haiku Lament

A bird in the hand./
Someone sitting next to you./
There is no difference.

Running Into Walls: Romantic ImproVerse Haiku

I ran into a/
wall today. I didn’t see/
it coming. It hurt.

Sympathy As A Friend Passes: Revolutionary Email Rhyming Haiku

Death’s just a gate, but/
to we who must wait, it’s a/
wall we wet with tears.

Putting Up Walls Training: Romantic ConTEXTing Haiku

She was so good at/
putting up walls, it wasn’t /
long before he learned.

Why Fear Anticipated Brilliance? : Revolutionary ConTEXTing Haiku

Why do we often/
fear anticipation of/
potential brilliance?

On NOT Being A Hopeless Romantic: Romantic Email Sonnet

One should never be
in that hopeless romantic hypocrisy.
For, if there is no hope in store,
then what is romance even for?

Those who are hopeless in romance
are folks who won’t even try to dance.
They’ll just lean back ‘gainst the wall
and watch everyone else have a ball.

But, as for me and my romantic heart,
I’m a hopeFUL romantic. That’s where I start.
I believe that something incredible can be.
I’m hopeful that’s where love will take me.

Being a romantic means believe! Take the chance!
Have hope FOR that life-altering, romantic dance.

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My Hidden Walls: Revolutionary Iambic IMprov Poetry

People with a narrow view
say “There are no walls around you.”
Their vision is ascew,
and simply not true.

My fences
are more subtle defenses.
Insecurity
is what hides me.

My foolish intensity
is what protects me.
The outlandish things I say
push people away.

Since my youth
that’s been my excuse.
When friendships yield treason,
I can say my words are the reason.

Then I never have to say
“They didn’t like ME anyway.”
Rejection’s never a personal afront.
It’s just my words they don’t want.

So I shield and protect myself
as people put my words, not me, on the shelf.
(and that’s an insight into me
that most people rarely see.)

Opening Your Gates: Romantic IMprov Poetry

I’m honored you open your gates to me
occasionally.
And if I fervently ask it,
you lower your heart’s basket
by nightfall
that I may scale your wall
again
and win.

Trying Again To Breach Her Walls: Romantic IMprov Poetry

When I first
nursed
a desire
to stand near
her radiance
and fire,
there was no
fear.

But then
I slammed
again
and again
into force fields;
walls
so tall
I had to yield
or go through.

That’s what I chose
to do,
knowing that the result
would let me exult
and exalt
myself
and her.

At last,
when the probe
burst through,
her radiance showed
back,
blinding my view.
So strong, so overwhelming
I couldn’t see anything
but what was in front of me.

I fear
I feared.

Insecurity
does not endear,
nor gain pity
from the pretty.

She quickly closed up,
repaired the breach.
Shields up!
She withdrew out of reach.

So I was left, again,
with keyboard instead of pen,
to tap, tap, tap away at the wall;
just to gain entry. Not make it fall.

For it’s only when she, herself, will yield
that her wall raising will be healed.

Raising the Wall: Revolutionary IMprov Poem

Welcome to his Wall
where accusations of “booty call”
cause him to fall
to the ground
and pound
his head
until, nearly dead,
he can’t recall
the pain of it all,
nor the withdrawal
caused by feeling small.

He wants to stall
or remove all
potential
thoughts of a booty call.

There’s always been more there.
He’s always been one who cares.