This Poetry Blog CyranoWriter is Moving! Come, Follow Me!

Follow me to my new blog at http://www.CyranoWriter.com/Creativity

Hello, friends and fellow poets and creatives! Hundreds of you follow my WordPress poetry and creative writing blog here at CyranoWriter.Wordpress.com. Some of you have followed me for decades! You’ve visited my 7200+ creations more than 100,000 times. And I’m grateful.

BUT this was always a dot WordPress blog, not really my own. So, as with all good things, there must be an end … before there can be a new beginning. And so it is with this blog. BUT … the creativity won’t stop. I’m just MOVING all my work to my own, personal blog. Continue to follow my work at CyranoWriter.com/Creativity.  As the LDS Hymn says:
“Come, Follow Me!”

IMPORTANT! IF you’ve followed this blog, you will need to follow that CyranoWriter.com/Creativity blog — otherwise you won’t get any updates of my new work (and, I promise, there will be at least one a day, or more!)

So make certain you visit CyranoWriter.com/Creativity soon. AND, if you’d like, I also have some creative and observational work at my NaturesGuy.com blog.

Thanks! I’ll see you on the other side!

Dave Kuhns aka CyranoWriter

It’s Time To Move — to CyranoWriter.com/Creativity

 

Warm Georgia Summer Evening Surprise: Improverse Blogging Haibu

From the inside, through my 90’s shaded-design oval door window, it looked like recent Georgia sunsets: Cool, golden, breezy, comfortably worthy of a front-porch sit for a spell. I knew the frogs would be chirping and croaking and screeching melodically, there might be a whip-or-will or mocking bird or mourning dove singing joyfully at the setting sun, and various and sundry unidentified bugs would be rhytmically scraping and creeking and thrumming and whatever they do, lacing a deep-layered cacophony of sound like a grandmother’s old, well-worn quilt over the newly-mown hay and lawn and the soon-to-be-harvested gold-and-black-tassled corn in the field just beyond the broken-in-half hickory tree.

Surprise.

Stepping out onto the porch, the evening’s still, stiffling air laid on my face and arms like mold in a plastic bag full of what teenaged boys might call “garbage cheese” — not quite rotted into limberger, but still stenchy and pungent enough to make me want to avoid taking a deep, rich breath.

No breeze.

Instead, as I stood still and watched the sunset dapple through the aged oak and hickory trees, as I tried to revel in the natural symphony I’d expected, the damp-dank humid humors of the evening felt as if I was at the end of some God/Satan spraygun of tangible air-mist-grime-pollen. And no scents. Nothing to make breathing the languid vapors worthwhile. No sense of reward or joy or revelation. Just deep cotton-like vapors filling my nostrils and throat and lining my lungs.

I sat down anyway, rocked slowly the way one should on a Southern porch in late July, and waited for an evening breeze to come and wash away the fog-like depth of the moment so I could, at last, completely see-hear-taste-smell-feel-sense all-in-all around and through and in me.

And a distant owl hooted.

When unexpected/
nature clouds your mind, be still./
She’ll clear your senses.

What Should I? Revolutionary Blogging Poetry

So much to see.
So much to do.
So much to live.
So much to…
So what should I?

Revealing Your Past Carefully: Revolutionary IMprov Haiku

Many folks from your/
now and future won’t know your past/
save you reveal some.

This came off of a meme which said:
“So many people from your past know a version of you that doesn’t exist anymore.”

As She Creates Music Theraputic: Revolutionary ImproVerse Rhyming Haiku

The music which flows/
from her soul knows* what her mind/
can’t articulate.

OR
*shows

Good Lesson For All: Revolutionary Blogging Haiku

An adm’rals daughter,/
she still slept ‘neath bridges ’til/
she got herself straight.

Nike Rags Footware Honor: Revolutionary ConTEXTing Haiku

Some former football player (under contract to a shoe manufacturer) said that the “Betsy Ross” flag was offensive, so Nike removed shoes with the flag from their lineup. This is my response:
Nike’s new footware/
should be torn and blood-stained rags,/
like at Valley Forge.

My Son, His Dog, Our Sorrow: Revolutionary ImproVerse Laments

My oldest son had to have his feisty little rescue dog, Veruca, put down today. He said “It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.” As a Dad (who also loved and appreciated her), I’ve had a surprising amount of sorrow. (Even now, it’s hard to post through all my tears). These poems reflect my feelings.

Why No Dogs
My son,
now a dad,
has to put down
his good old dog today.

Now I understand
why I,
as a dad,
never wanted to have dogs
when my kids were growing up.

Saying goodbye
is just
too damn hard.
=========

Dog Gone Hidden Crying

If I go take a/
shower no one can see the/
sad tears I’m crying.
=========

I’m Proud of You, Son

We all can avoid/
doing what we should./
It takes a real man/
to do the hard things.

Or, in haiku form:
We can all avoid/
doing what we should. Only/
real men do hard things.
=========

Not What I’d Wish For Any Dog
His dog was put down./
All said: “Rest” In Peace, but that’s/
not what I’d wish. “RUN!“

Struggles Are Growth For Forevah: Revolutionary ImproVerse Free Verse

Each of my children
struggles
with what they should do
in their lives
and
with their lives.

They ask what purpose they have,
what greater good
they can serve.

It seems as though
they feel as though
there should be some
final
answer.

There’s not.

While I’m glad
(as their Dad)
they’re trying to figure out
how best to serve
and what purpose they have
in the world,
and while I’m glad
they’re searching for purpose,
how can I explain to them
that I have not yet,
(at over a half of century of age,)
found that answer?

And that I may never find it.

What do
I want to do
when I grow up?

I may never know.

How can I explain to them
that the world is changing,
and its needs,
and the people of the earth’s needs
are changing as well.

How can I let them know that,
while those needs are changing,
our own,
personal,
ability to help
to serve
to uplift
and to strengthen
is also changing,
morphing,
growing.

I’m a much different man
than
I was at 25,
at 35,
at 43,
at 50, (12 years ago),
at 60.

My skills are different.
My talents have changed and grown.
I now have wisdom
that I didn’t even think
I could possess
when I was 36 years old.

So while I encourage
my kids,
(now grown)
to keep trying
to figure out
how best to serve,
I also hope that they have learned
from me
that service
and life’s journey
is not a final destination.

Life is simply
a journey,
an opportunity
to find out
how best to help,
and then to do that
in the moment,
until such time comes
as you find another need
that the world has
an another talent
that you have
that helps fill that need.

And on
and on
and on.

Because only those
who don’t stop serving,
who don’t stop helping,
who don’t stop caring,
keep living.

Fill In Life’s Gaps With What? Revolutionary Blogging Iambic Verse

You may,
on the daily,
learn what He wants you
to do.

You may
obey
His call,
but that’s all.

Then what?
Do you sit on your butt?
Do you fill in your life’s gaps
with mindless crap?

I could delight
and write.
Creation
might bring my soul elation.

Or do I waste time
doing things less sublime?
Creating my inner “duuuuuhhhh”
with social media?

Or watch sports,
or comedy shorts,
or other junk to see
on TV?

When I do nichts
it makes my heart sick.
When I create
my soul feels great!

So why
don’t I
at least try?