Why do I ask friends/
for advice? What they give is/
never very nice.
Category Archives: Revolution IMbic Poems 4an IMprov Age
Facing My Fear: Revolutionary IMprov Poetry
I face
and embrace
my fear.
It’s being a motivator,
not a regulator
nor intimidator.
For in staring fear down
I find
I don’t drown.
I open my mind.
Interesting Subject: Revolutionary IMprov Rhyming Haiku
Why do we have to/
stop talking about you? You’re/
tres’ intéressant.!
Conversation Starter: Revolutionary IMprov Rhyming Haiku
Must I always be/
one who starts conversations?/
Should I be patient?
The Same View Though Convertible: Revolutionary Blogging Poetry
On a perfect,
cloudless
summer day,
before I drove away,
I pullled off
the convertible top
to better see
driving under trees,
and sky,
and buildings
going by.
A friend
got in,
and stared
forward
out the window.
She liked feeling
the wind blow
through her hair,
but only looked forward where
she always did before.
She couldn’t see more
than her previous view.
So I stopped,
and said “Look up!”
and showed her something new.
To see a surprise
view, look to the skies.
Blonde-Made Caprese’ : Revolutionary IMprov Rhyming IMbic Haiku
I’d say caprese’/
should eas’ly trump blondes all day./
But I would be wrong.
Disqualifying Over Children: Revolutionary IMprov Email Poetry
“Do you want children?” the question asked.
Over that small detail I’m taken to task?
Would I like them in her house?
Would I like them with her X-spouse?
Would I like them in her room?
Would I like them in her womb?
Would I like them here or there?
Would I like them anywhere?
Where I’d like them, I could not know!
I just try to go with the flow!
And I decry ambiguity.
At least, it seems that way to me.
For if I, to that question, say “No!”,
then women with children could turn and go,
as would women, certainly,
who were waiting, mothers-to-be.
But I’d not exclude them for that choice.
Being good partners means both have a voice.
And thus, the answer of open/uncertainty,
seems to fit, I think, the openness of me.
Thank you. I’m glad you listened;
and now my poem is at an end.
Except for this small thought before I part:
Wouldn’t you like a man whose heart,
soul, and mind
are open, generous, giving, and kind?
Who won’t disqualify before he starts?