Tag Archives: CyranoWriter

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.)

To Speak, To: Romantic IMprov Poem

I hope to speak with you again,
to assuage your worries,
to calm your fears,
to unravel your confusion,
to illuminate your path,
to enfold your shoulder,
to hold your hand.
to provide the goo
so desired by you.

Opening Your Gates: Romantic IMprov Poetry

I’m honored you open your gates to me
occasionally.
And if I fervently ask it,
you lower your heart’s basket
by nightfall
that I may scale your wall
again
and win.

Being On A Roll: Romantic IMprov Sonnet

She said:
“You are on a roll!”
To which I responded
(in a tone rather droll):

“I’d rather be on you.
or you on me.
Like peanut butter with jam.
Like fresh bread and honey.

Like warm milk and white bread
fresh from the oven
having you spread
on me is just good lovin’!”

When I’ve lived so long gluten-free,
being on a roll sounds mighty tasty.

Trying Again To Breach Her Walls: Romantic IMprov Poetry

When I first
nursed
a desire
to stand near
her radiance
and fire,
there was no
fear.

But then
I slammed
again
and again
into force fields;
walls
so tall
I had to yield
or go through.

That’s what I chose
to do,
knowing that the result
would let me exult
and exalt
myself
and her.

At last,
when the probe
burst through,
her radiance showed
back,
blinding my view.
So strong, so overwhelming
I couldn’t see anything
but what was in front of me.

I fear
I feared.

Insecurity
does not endear,
nor gain pity
from the pretty.

She quickly closed up,
repaired the breach.
Shields up!
She withdrew out of reach.

So I was left, again,
with keyboard instead of pen,
to tap, tap, tap away at the wall;
just to gain entry. Not make it fall.

For it’s only when she, herself, will yield
that her wall raising will be healed.