Tag Archives: free verse

Trying Too Hard Means What? Revolutionary ImproVerse Free Verse

Some say that I “try too hard”.
What does that mean?

I try to be loving.
I try to be conscientious.
I try to be kind.
I try to be trustworthy.
I try to be friendly.
I try to be fun.
I try to be loyal.
I try to be helpful.
I try to be creative.
I try to be humble.
I try to be a hard worker.
I try to be spiritual.
I try to be intelligent.
I try to be visionary.
I try to be outgoing.
I try to be inclusive.
I try to be nonjudgmental.
I try to be cheerful.
I try to be non-prejudicial.
I try to be loving.
I try to be likable.
I try to be thrifty.
I try to be observational.
I try to be smiling.
I try to be joyful.
I try to be charitable.
I try to be righteous.
I try to be teachable.
I try to be the change.
I try to be a teacher.
I try to be contemplative.
I try to be repentant.
I try to be courteous.
I try to be obedient.
I try to be clean physically, mentally and spiritually.
I try to be brave.
I try to stand up for what’s right.
I try to be reverent.
I try to follow Him, to be a true Christian.
I try to be just.
I try to just be.

I am trying, but trying “too hard”?
What does that mean?
Why would I stop trying?

No Horse In The Desert, She: Romantic IMprov Free Verse Poem

In a desert,
some guy —
I don’t remember his name —
was singing
about a horse
in a desert.

We danced in the desert,
but no equine, she.
So I watched
and saw
what she
and others
could not:

Her luscious pink lips,
parted slightly in a smile,
the gentle curve of her body
as it swayed to and fro
to the music
while her hair,
waved back and forth
as though a blonde mane
caught in a mid-summer’s desert
not sirocco
evening breeze.

The sparkle and laughter of her eyes
as they caught
and reflected
and augmented
the spotlights.

The brilliance of her smile
exposed,
as she laughed with youthful glee,
recalling perhaps
those teenage years
when she first danced
in mid-America
to that song.
HorseWithNoName_CrowdDances_to_America_Composite_DraperDays_July2015

America Encore July 1972-2015: Revolutionary ConTEXTing Free Verse Poem

America plays Horse With No Name, Draper Days, 2015I knew the song well,
well before I saw it,
saw the title, first,
carved deep
in an old wood school desk
in the gable room
of my historic fachwerk church
in the heart of Cream City.

Each time
through the decades,
I heard about
the desert that had turned to sea,
I thought of that pen-rutted,
scarred wood,
revelation writing,
hinged desk top.

Will that still be
my embedded memory
now that I’ve seen,
second,
decades later,
in the desert,
the no-named
equine tribute
live?

The Complete Giant Cosmic Harmonic: Revolutionary ImproVerse Free Verse Poem

Jupiter and Venus
lay equally,
while the smiling full moon
cast her light
over the wind-rippled lake.

I commented,
as bubbles from marsh gases,
released from sand,
rose between my toes,
how this moment
was like some kind of giant
universal
cosmic
harmonic.

And then,
as if to make it complete,
I swallowed a bug.
OR

And then
I swallowed a bug
to make it.complete.

Lisa’s (The High School Cheerleader) Lesson: Romantic Free Verse Blogging Poem

She was
I recall,
one of the prettiest cheerleaders
of all.

Blonde, gold hair,
flashing blue eyes,
near perfect skin
pearly smile,
cheerleader’s body.

I,
nerd,
could only gaze
from afar,
and hold my breath,
and wish,
and dream
as she
and her friends
glided by,
laughing.

But sometimes,
she’d smile at me.
and make my heart
burst
and my stomach
flip.
Fodder
for nighttime fantasies.

As prom approached,
I dreamed.
In the mid-70s,
not cool
to actually GO,
but in private,
I could still imagine.

She was always there,
floating,
cloaked in gauze
and satin.
I’d ask her.
She’d say “Yes! Of course!”
totally shocking me,
disregarding social norms,
the cheerleader
and the nerd,
revenge thereof,
(before anyone thought of the film.)

We’d go,
and my social status
and my life
would change.

Then I’d wake up.

She,
of course,
was elected prom queen.
I gave myself
some eco-excuse:
“Prom
is not
socially responsible.”
Lie.

The dance,
tuxes and formals,
came
and I went
fishing,
wishing,
she’d been MY catch.
Prom Queen.

Months later,
I learned the awful,
heart-wrenching
truth
of Senior Prom.
She’d  had no
date.

Her father drove her
to the ballroom.
She entered to applause,
was crowned,
danced for a couple of tunes
with the butter-fly bow-tied
Prom King,
made her rounds,
shook hands,
walked out to where Daddy
was waiting,
drove home,
probably cried herself
to sleep.

I wondered
and have wondered
many times since:
What if I
would have asked?

Would she have laughed?
Would she have said “Yes!”?
Would that have changed
my life?
The snot-nosed nerd
who took the Prom Queen?
Would that have changed
her life?

I wonder.

A few years ago
I wanted to ask
a middle-aged
prom queen-type.
I balked.
I was afraid.
Then,
I remembered
a beautiful, smiling, cheerleader
with no prom date
except her daddy,
crying.

I swallowed,
hard,
and asked.
She laughed
and said “No!”
She was busy
that night.
But later?
“Certainly.”

And we did
and did,
and did.

Since then,
I’ve always asked.
There is no social status
I am not worthy of.
There is no beauty
I cannot dance with.
There is nobody
who is out of my league.

Thank you,
Lisa L.,
for the lesson.
If I ever see you
again,
I will ask,
as I should have
then.

Because every pretty girl
deserves to go to a ball,
and even a poor nerd
deserves happiness.