Dozens have warned me:/
“Don’t write poetry!” Yet I /
persist stupidly.

Confidently/
I wrote sweet poetry/
to send to thee,/
but alas! vile telephony/
and its technology/
got the better of me/
when my cell phone’s battery/
abruptly/
died.

Someone once said: You /
can’t hate someone you pray for./
And He was perfect.

As I watched a gold/
sunset from the plane, I gazed/
at your gold photo.

With a body like/
hers, no one cares how she moves,/
only that she does.

You should just accept/
that with me, things will always/
be somewhat diff’rent.

She writes mind-bending/
verse, then vanishes, quiet,/
from my Universe.

I like when she drinks. /
Her mouth gets full of more than /
just fermented grapes.

Only a poet/
invites himself to girls’ night/
by writing haiku.

Now you have two new/
haiku written just for you./
Let’s see. Make that three.