An empty spot/
in my mail box./
A blank way/
to start my day./
A void where u/
didn’t say/
nada/
today.
A blank sheet/
with hope u didn’t meet/
Zilch on it./
An empty sonnet.
(Dave, 3/01/09, 11:10
am)
Category Archives: Uncategorized
elektra3x
Jayne Casselman, Huthmacher Hof owner and soprano, sings Elektra at Seattle Opera, Nov., 2008
Vibrato Liberato: Elektra Memormio! – a revolutionary ConTEXTing poem
A haggard/
antiquitous daughter/
stood on a stage,/
sounding her crazed/
and demented rage!/
With her impassioned vibrato,/
She awakened my shy,/
slumbering Liberato!
Du kennst mich doch! – A romantic IMprov poem auf Deutsch
Spoke an accented voice, from long ago: You seem to be there when nobody else is… And I don’t even know you! And I answered:
Du kennst mich doch.
Ich bin der jenige,
fuer wem Du gesucht hast.
auf wem Du gewartest hast.
an wem Du getrauemt hast.
Der Jenige der,
wenn Du eine Augen
im Traum schlieBt,
da steht.
Der Jenige der,
wenn Du im Mittenacht
etwas neben Dir verspuerst,
da ist…
Deine Hand zu halten,
Deine Gesicht zu tasten
Deine Haare mit seinen Fingern zu kaemen.
Ich bin’s.
Embers of the fire, dying: A revolutionary IMprov poem
The dying
embers of the fire
needed a little poke
to make the flames climb higher;
to avoid the smoke
that sometimes
climbs
into our eyes
and waters them
but, as we cry,
we are cleansed.
And the fire, stirred,
roars passionately again.
To a Woman Collecting Her Thoughts: A Revolutionary IMprov Poem
She didn’t seem meek
Speaking,
and sitting,
on the banks of the creek
that cool, rainy day.
But then I watched
her thoughts
float away.
And suddenly
she had no more to say.
So, she ran to get them
But fell in
and couldn’t collect them,
nor could she swim.
And I,
like the nice guy
that I am,
leapt in,
reached out my hand,
and
collected her
thoughts.
Thinking
not
of her sinking
on that cool, rainy day,
but of thinks I’d collected
that she wouldn’t say.
And she floated away.
The Poet Alone: A revolutionary sonnet
The silence deafens
and suprises me;
the lack of women’s letters
I’d hoped to see.
Perhaps SuperBusyWomen
don’t, after all, have the time
to leave their hurried, rushed lives
and listen to my rhyme.
Perhaps she who I put on the shelf
was right!
But still, my keyboard and I forge
into the empty night.
Where I discover poetry is writ not for she,
nor them, nor thee, but — alone — for me.
BEauty on the Beach: A Romantic IMprov Sonnet
A woman wanted to be/
a better writer/
so I took her to the beach/
and walked beside her./
We spoke of the Bard,/
and his poetry;/
It was not hard/
how the words came to me,/
as we danced/
on the sand./
I romanced;/
she held my hand./
It was effortless; the words came easily,/
to describe her fairness and lasting beauty!
Dad's requiem 4 a Daughter Lost: A revolutionary ConTEXTing Poem
I lost my daughter today,/
though she didn’t die/
nor move far away;/
she yelled, swore, said goodbye,/
and poof! there was no more to say./
I cried/
and died/
inside.
Late Night Wondering: a Romantic ConTEXTing Poem
I sometimes wonder/
if I disturb your slumber./
Or if you’re still sleep-free/
thinking of me!