Such A Loss: Revolutionary ImproVerse Haiku Lament

Her hands made art, wrote/
words. Now they’ve taken who she/
*was, not all she’ll be.

OR
*was and all she’d be.

Knowing Who I Am: Revolutionary ImproVerse Haiku

Who am I? Father,/
son, friend, writer. Above all,/
I’m a Child of God.

Sharing Word Talents: Revolutionary ConTEXTing Haiku

Sharing our talents,/
word, was never meant to be/
a competition.

Using Power For Good: Revolutionary ConTEXTing Haiku Apology

Writing gives power,/
but writers shouldn’t use blogs/
as bully pulpits.
OR
… but writers shouldn’t use their words/

Who I Am In Awesomeness: Revolutionary IMprov Haiku

Behold, I am I,/
writer of words. I’m awesome/
in my awesomeness.

Becoming A Writer: Romantic IMprov Limerick

There once was a girl I could woo
by writing anything I wanted to.
But then she understood
that she could also write good
and we became writers two, too!

A Writer’s All-Nighter: Romantic ConTEXTing Limerick

When a writer writes her/
during an all-nighter,/
one would expect/
he’ll be a wreck/
if he doesn’t delight her.

To The Forklift Mechanic Writer: Revolutionary ConTEXTing Poem About An Audience of One

Dancing with another man’s wife (with his permission) at the Winneconne Fin & Feather, I promised I would write her a poem about her incredible eyes behind her Sally Smart glasses, her California youth, her dancing moves, her wedge shoes with the tie-ups, .
Instead, after he argued with me that he wasn’t going to write or blog any of his writing (although his wife says he is a good writer), I ended up writing this for him.

I only hope/
the man who claims/
he can’t write/
learns his wife’s brain/
is her main/
eros organ/
and delight./

4 when it’s said and done,/
all a poet needs/
is an audience of 1.

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Meeting Another Writer: Revolutionary Email Haiku

I’m a writer. You?/
We could discuss our genre:/
How we write Haiku.

Asking a Writer to Write: Revolutionary Email Poetry

First you tempt me/
with brain surgery;/
then you write me/
just to excite me;/
then you vanish … /
and my muse disapears./

What do you write?/
I write, right?/
We could write/
and delight/
some night/
together/
whenever/
we felt the muse/
to amuse/
(or confuse…)/

Dang!/
Don’t leave me hang/
in’!/
Please write again!/