Category Archives: IMbic Poems 4an IMprov Age

When You No Longer Have Time: IMprov Rhyming Blogging Sonnet

When you no longer have time

to receive my verse,

to accept the rhymes

that I reherse.

Yet you, still,  are my muse

regardless of my heart’s folly,

or what I’ll use

(in terms of technology)

To deliver my lines

and my romance;

my feelings refined;

my desire to dance;

When you’ve put communication on the shelf,

I’ll find ways to write, and dance with myself.

Can I Handle The Touch? Romantic IMprov Rhyming Poetry

Can I handle the touch?

I think so,

for when you’ve craved something so much

you relish every bite,

every morsel and taste.

You never let lips take flight,

nor waste

the tender newness

and gentle caress

of what you’ve waited so long for,

sans haste.

Standing Hand Holding: Romantic IMprov Rhyming Poetry

When I hold your hand/

can you stand/

a butterfly’s wings,/

(delicate, tender things,)/

unfolding as it fans?

Tracing across your palm and wrist?

Dancing lightly, like a butterfly’s kiss?

And then matching fingers’ gentle trace?

Moving up from your hand to cup your face?

Can you tolerate hand holding that grand?

If you can,

I might yet be your man.

God’s Answer To Walls: Romantic IMprov Blogging Poem

Could she,
with walls built high
and deep
open a small door
to her keep
and let me
in?

What does she fear?
What holds her back?
That I’ll get too near?
Place her heart under attack?

Perhaps, but she should know this:
All pain
is worth that gain.
and that risk.

She sometimes feels
I exist to romance her.
But what if I’m what’s real,
and simply God’s answer?

My Hidden Walls: Revolutionary Iambic IMprov Poetry

People with a narrow view
say “There are no walls around you.”
Their vision is ascew,
and simply not true.

My fences
are more subtle defenses.
Insecurity
is what hides me.

My foolish intensity
is what protects me.
The outlandish things I say
push people away.

Since my youth
that’s been my excuse.
When friendships yield treason,
I can say my words are the reason.

Then I never have to say
“They didn’t like ME anyway.”
Rejection’s never a personal afront.
It’s just my words they don’t want.

So I shield and protect myself
as people put my words, not me, on the shelf.
(and that’s an insight into me
that most people rarely see.)