Sometimes silence is,/
like snowflakes falling through firs,/
all you need to hear.

I missed U/
at the last 2/
dances./
I took my chances/
with romances/
but none/
were as fun/
as what U/
and I had done./

But do/
I only get U/
if I wine/
and dine/
vous?

Instead of engaging in foreign-tongued/
intellectual banter,/
now we’re not so young/
I think I’d rather/
gaze deep into your eyes/
and write you poetry/
and gently surprise/
your mind and your heart./
At least, I surmise,/
that’s where I’d like to start.

I know the feeling./
Try staring into eyes/
that set your head reeling,/
and to your surprise/
she’s totally zoned/
and says ‘I dig guys/
but you’ve got no phermones.’

Can phermones, like seeds,/
be planted and nourished so/
they blossom and grow?

He sighed./
She thot something was amiss./
He was denied./She sank deeper in2 the abyss./

This Christmas he prayed he’d finally get
a grown-up boy’s chemistry set.

Ich will nicht warten/
fuer Die, wofuer ich schon lang/
gewartet habe.

Loose translation (in haiku):
I don’t want to wait/
any more, for she, who I’ve/
long been waiting for.

Of all the women/
who could reject me, I did/
not expect Mother.

A friend argued with me that she wasn’t the muse for piece I wrote. This is an IMprov haiku response:

Sometimes muses join/
together. Creation is/
summarization.

Sometimes it is good/
to run naked, exposing/
your dreams to the world.