Category Archives: Romantic IMprov Poetry

Loving The Revolution: Revolutionary Romantic IMprov Blogging Poetry

Fulfilling a promise I made on President Obama’s Inauguration Day, to write a poem or prose a daily, I’ve now more than doubled my self-imposed quota. Thanks to the muses — known and unknown — who have inspired me, and to my friends who expressed their belief in me. Inspired by Facebook’s “The Reflective Writer”, here is my 2000th poem, combining the two main themes of this blog: Romance and Revolution.

I love
my Revolution.
I embrace
change.
I woo
adapting.
I desire
adjustment.

It’s romantic,
isn’t it?
This self-propelled
repair;
this analysis
and violent rebirth;
this surgery
that let’s me
see
and be
who I am,
revolutionary.

Accepting change
means changing
the way we view
everything.

The revolution
heads down
from our brain,
up from our heart
and soul,
and out
our mouths
and fingertips.

But first,
we must love us
and the world.
We must romance
ourselves,
believing the world
needs love,
sweet love;
love is all you need.

And when we love ourselves,
and love the world,
we take that vow
of love.
We disavow
that fear
which holds us back
from revolutionary
acts.

We change
who we are,
Because we love;
Because we romanticize
life;
Because we embrace
joy;
Because a little revolution,
now and then,
is good for the soul.

And when we create revolution
in ourselves,
we extend how much
we can love.

Years ago,
revolutionaries spoke
from Capitol steps.
It was in this hope
and audacity,
that I vowed,
hopefully,
audaciously,
to start my own
revolution,
because I loved myself,
and wanted to romance
the world.

The revolution
called for one
a day.
One statement.
One thought.
One outpouring.
One lament.
One laugh.
One cry.
One moan.
One change.
One.

2,000 posts later,
this vowed daily one
has become
my expression
of romance,
love,
and revolution.

And I’m not done.
Join me.

Facing An Abyss, Spurned: Romantic IMprov Poetry

She stood/
on the verge/
of opening./

Facing the great chasm/
and depths of life,/
she clung to him/
who explained/
everything./

As she leaned forward/
to leap/
into the abyss,/
hoping a net would appear,/
feeling secure/
that he would not let her/
fall,/
he took a phone call./

So she, feeling spurned,/
turned/
and ran,/
again,/
back to her safe place,/
and put back on her bland face,/
and hid.

Who’s Behind The Librarian: Revolutionary IMprov IMbic Poetry

She erased it,
(that photo she took)
and replaced it
with one of her reading a book.

That’s ’cause she’s the Marion
who always claims she’s shy.
Beneath her veneer, she’s contrarian.
She doesn’t know why,
this somewhat naughty librarian.

If you want to look
she’ll hide her face in a book.
But hidden between Jane Austen’s leaves
are Tom Jones, and Greensleeves.

Though she’s gone libarian through life,
she’s been, underneath, really the Wife
of Bath.
(That will make her laugh).

But, unlike gap-toothed Alison,
this pilgrim would’ve settled for one.