Posts Tagged ‘www.cyranowriter.com’

Earth Day, Earth Life: Revolutionary Blogging Haiku

April 22, 2019

When your life is lived/
environmentally, each/
day is an Earth Day.

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Earth Day, Again: Revolutionary Blogging Haiku

April 22, 2019

Decades passed since I/
cleaned the Milwaukee River./
This Earth Day, I plant.

Finally Starting: Revolutionary ImproVerse Haiku

March 30, 2019

When you’re trying to/
start, push in the clutch and brake./
Make sure you’ve got fuel.
OR
When you’re trying to /
start, push in the clutch, then make/
sure your gas tank’s full.

A Sonnet To Salute The Salutatorian: Revolutionary IMprov Sonnet

March 28, 2019

Out on a tree’d hill he stood,
walking in the buggy grass;
never caring he was that good;
never thinking to place high in his class.

‘Neath scaled hickories without effort
(it seemed), he read, wrote, studied.
With his cousins on and in X’d videos he’d cavort,
whether the paths were pulsing, dry or muddied.

He sparred with great wit and thought
as he discussed, with authors, literature.
He pondered and argued upon what he got
from reading ancient and revealed Scripture.

At last, now, as BigEP reaches a good childhood’s end,
Let us salute the brain’d heights of this Salutatorian!

Twice-Told Sunset Lesson Told Twice: Revolutionary ConTEXTing Haiku

March 26, 2019

Today my daughter texted me at about 4 p.m. to ask: “What does Grandpa always say about sunsets?”
(Answer: If you’re too busy to watch a sunset, you’re too busy!)
Ironically, later in the evening, I was outside working on finishing installing/repairing our new (to us) chicken coop. Suddenly, shortly after 8 p.m., I stood up and looked westward … and realized I’d missed most of the sunset. Weird that my daughter and I had JUST DISCUSSED that point … and I’d missed the lesson!
So I wrote this haiku:

Dont get too busy/
and forget to turn around
and watch the sunset.
I was too busy and almost missed the sunset

Who Needs A White Pickup Truck? Revolutionary ImproVerse Haiku

March 26, 2019

Who needs a pickup/
truck when you’ve got a couple
of convertibles?
Who need a pickup truck when you can haul stiff in your convertible?

Hauling carpets and kayaks in our convertibles -- no pickup trucks needed! March 2019

Early Morning Listening Lesson: Revolutionary ImproVerse Haiku

March 26, 2019

Today I turned off/
the screaming guitar to hear/
morning birds instead.

Change Your Weed Perspective: Revolutionary Blogging Haiku

March 25, 2019

To capture nature’s/
true beauty, you may need to /
kneel down in the weeds.
Dandelion at sunset perspective on beauty -- NaturesGuy

Not Missing The Wolf Super Moon Lunar Eclipse: Revolutionary IMprov Haiku

January 20, 2019

How do you wake up/
your wife to view the Wolf Moon/
eclipse? Howl loudly.

To My Darling, Dearest One, Post Movie: Romantic Free Verse Lament

January 16, 2019

My Darling:
My fingers fly across space and keys, anxiously tapping and pounding words which have swollen my heart this evening for far too long.
Why is the connection so slow? Why do I have to wait longingly for some electronic synapse, when the waves in my brain and my heart are racing full speed, threatening to rip the arteries between those two organs asunder.
My Dearest: Tonight we watched a movie of London and research and libraries and University and the Yorkshire coast and countryside. It was of two Literati, one hidden poet and one descendant of two artists long passed and largely forgotten. A romance. A genealogical detective story. A movie full of poetry, love requeited and not, of honesty and deception. It was a film full of scenery and sadness, of whisper and wanting, of two – facedness twice.
Loved one: It was a cinemascope full of everything you, as a romance writer, love. It was and is a tale I should and would, as a romantic poet, gladly embrace with you, fully, completely, deeply.
Except for that one moment, that once scene in that one arbor-windowed room overlooking the ocean, as the waves heaved and foamed and surged and rolled in and out, in and out. It is that moment that, for all its beauty and tenderness, will always break my heart, and will always turn me inside out, and give me pain.
Even now, my beloved, I hear the music, I feel the muse (he called her his Muse, or was it her that called him her Muse?), and instead of rejoicing, my heart is heavy with memory and regret.
Fortunately, that forbidden moment was long ago. Just as she let him drop her hair down, at last, maybe some day I can accept that love, believe that goodness can happen in those moments.

For did not Solomon come of David and Bathsheba?

Perhaps, Love, someday
my pain will away,
and with it will fade regret.
But not yet.
Alas, Loves, not yet.