Monthly Archives: July 2019

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.
My son's rescue dog, Veruca -- RIP
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!“

Write What? Improv Free Verse

What happens if you’re supposed to write,
but you don’t know what to create about?
Do you just keep writing
until something comes?Is it like eating breakfast cereal?
You don’t really know why
or how much to eat,
but you know you have to fuel your body?

Is it like that except for your mind and soul?
I’ve seen that vision of
sitting on the stump in the woods and writing.

At this moment, though,
I’m stumped
as to what I should write about.
And it’s hot and humid
and the bugs are buzzing
and I once saw where Tennessee Williams
wrote A Streetcar Named Desire
in the old French Quarter in New Orleans
(I wrote a STELLA poem about it!)
and I wonder how he stood it

with no air conditioning,
sitting in a room
in a brick walk up
in the French Quarter’s
sweltering oppressive heat.Why does no great literature
come out of sub-zero freezing pain?
Can I, as a Yankee transplant,
tap into that creative energy
that oozes like sweat-made tea
and humidity,
that soaks the back of shirts
in Rorschach patterns
along the spines
of men and women?

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?