One of her childhood/
heroes died. I don’t know how/
to say I’m sorry.
Tag Archives: Emotional poetry
Not Wanting Out: Romantic ImproVerse Haiku
I didn’t want to/
get out of relationships,/
but had to feel loved.
She Still Knows Comforting: Revolutionary ImproVerse Haiku
Back story: Two people very close to me criticized me harshly, telling me I was “goofy” and “attention-grabbing” and basically not the type of person they thought I should be. Heartbroken, I “dumped” on an old girlfriend, who has long since moved on and gotten married to someone who thinks she is “more than enough”. This is what her “exactly what I needed to hear” response to me was:
“That is a lie. Your “goofiness” and “attention needing” (or just a person who does get attention because you are fun!) are those incredible, unique qualities of who you are as a person. And you give. And give. You are moving forward at your own perfect pace in your own perfect timing.”
It prompted this haiku:
It amazed him that,/
after all the years which passed,/
she knew what to say.
Terrible Life Coach: Revolutionary ImproVerse Haiku
You have no clue who/
you are. How can I let you/
dictate who I am?
or
dictate my being?
Mio Trigger Mi: Revolutionary ImproVerse Haiku
If everything you/
do is a trigger, you will/
probably get shot.*
OR
*prob’ly shoot yourself.
OR
If everything I/
do triggers you, how long will/
you not take a shot?
Attention Grabbing Or Wisdom Giving: Revolutionary ImproVerse Haiku
Am I screaming out:
“Hey! Look at me!”, or saying: /
“Watch, listen and learn!”?
Local Black Hole: Revolutionary ImproVerse Haiku
She takes light and joy/
and sucks them into darkness,/
like some huge black hole.
OR
She takes my joy light/
and sucks it into darkness,/
like some huge black hole.
I Love You As My _____, But I Don't Like You: Revolutionary ImproVerse Haiku Lament
Once again, someone/
I love says they don’t like who/
I am. How’ll I quit?
Her Last Son: A Birthday Gift — Revolutionary IMprov Free Verse Poem
I was IMing my youngest son, and the conversation turned toward what he could do for his mother’s upcoming birthday. I wrote this as a prompt for his music.
Happy Birthday,
IFK.
She was surprised/
when I came./
Unexpectedly/
a blessing in her/
age,/
a comfort, /
one more step/
back/
into her golden-haired/
youth./
Stong I became,/
and protected her/
as she guided me,/
shielding each other/
from life’s awful realities./
She always lifted/
and loved/
and supported/
and guided/
and nurtured/
and believed./
And now that I’m /
gone,/
she still does./
And she will always/
pray/
for me,/
because I/
am her,/
and hers,/
alone.