Just a lonely boy/
on a full moon night, wond’ren/
if she’s gazing too.

Behold, fair rose!
Thou who art at once so close,
and yet so distant.
wondering where romance went.

Take the chance to repent
of that which thou previously said:
Of where your passions went
lost in waters uncharted.

But instead, give full measure
to opening your heart,
uncovering your treasure
and sharing your deepest part.

Be the rose who opens her bloom
and, with her fragrance, lifts the gloom.

I guess you’re saving
all the words I’m craving
for the novel you’re writing
(which people will delight in!)

When you decide it’s no chore
to write much more,
please jump right in
and write me again!

But until such time
as you can deliver prose or rhyme,
I’ll say adieu,
and my writing’s through.

Getting to know someone through two or three words
borders, I think, upon the absurd.

A familiar voice,/
though sarcastic, is sometimes/
what you miss the most.

If you /
want to do/
a late-night ice cream run,/
that could be fun!/
(After ten.)/
If not, to my sorrow,/
I’ll try again/
tomorrow.

One word was all she sent:
“Cute”.
He puzzled over what it meant.
And her photos, to boot:
Dark and mysterious.
What she was like
was anyone’s guess.

Having seen your face/
I know, ‘neath a full moon’s glow,/
beauty sleep’s a waste.

I keep inventing words (which, I guess, makes me a “vocabulist”), but forgetting to write them down. Usually these happen in instant message conversations, so I figured I should start capturing them.
Vocabularist: A person who uses words, either in speech or writing, very precisely. Someone who has a large vocabulary and makes certain their words are exactly what they mean to say. Someone who examines, questions or verifies the words another uses, to make certain the intended meaning is understood.
“How were you over the weekend at your retreat? Did you have fun?”
“Fun? It was necessary.”
“You are such a vocabularist.”

I had dinner
with my daughter
at the
Red Iquana.

I wanted to say
“Ole!”
when I taste their mole’!
It was more than okay!
A perfect end to a perfect day,
with dinner
with my daughter
at the Red Iquana.

Things often dont change./
The same guy who couldn’t talk/
to women, still can’t.