The Oracle Solves A Creative’s Dilemic Conundrum: Revolutionary IMprov Free Verse Poem

Through life’s woods
I wandered.
Down a path
not-often trodden,
I stumbled,
soul-searching,
burdened,
sorrowing,
because of rejection,
because of loneliness.

In a still glen,
facing my feelings,
fearing,
confused,
I found her,
an oracle
in blue.

I asked honestly
for others perceptions
of me.

Pause.
Had I offended?
The oracle spoke:
“You view the world differently.
Creatives see things
creatively.
And thus, you are,
typically,
misunderstood.”

“What you as a creative see,
you view with variety
and clarity.”

“Some use a paintbrush,
some a pencil or pen
some use a sculptor’s tool,
some a potter’s wheel,
some a keyboard or strings.
Some see the world
through a wide angle
or a macro
or a telephoto lens.”

“But what you see,
you can capture
and share
with the world
who is blind,
or at least myopic
or farsighted
or mono-colored.”

“Because you do that,
we in the world who have ears,
may hear;
and having eyes,
may see.
And having minds,
may understand.
And having souls,
may feel
and grasp
and learn
and know.”

“That’s why creatives,
though you’re misunderstood,
though you’re criticized,
though you’re shunned,
by some,
must always exist.
That’s why
you must always persevere.”

“Because without you,
the world would miss
what we otherwise
might see
or hear
or feel
or experience
and understand.”

As she spoke
those words,
the truth,
I reeled
under the torrent
and weight
of responsibility.

At the same time,
I felt my burden lifted.
I felt my rejection taken.
I felt,
again,
fire in my veins
and joy
in my heart.

Though I’m often alone
on that solitary path,
I’m not lonely.

I now know
and accept
that it is okay
to see
and write
what others might not.
Even if I’m rejected,
by some,
others will see.

I’ll share,
not in a condescending way,
not in reprimand,
not in a “you must see that
this this way,
or you’re wrong”.

Not asking them to
“be better”,
because they are
as they are,
just
as I am
as I am.

Instead, I’ll give
my words,
my thoughts,
my feelings
in a kind,
loving,
sharing way.

I’ll say:
“Look at this thing
I see.
Look what I found!
Come share it with me.”

Just like she,
visionary oracle,
in her wisdom,
helped me see
the opportunity
and responsibility
I bear
as I live,
and share,
my life honestly,
with integrity,
creatively.

My Car’s Faster Than Yours: Revolutionary IMprov Sonnet

Hands in the air topless dancing on a wide-open freeway -I-15 in UtahSpeed is a function
of an open road.
You’re crawling at the junction
of I’s 5 and 90: Overload!

Your powerful Maserati
is stuck in traffic jams.
His cool Ferrari
moves like overcooked Spam.

While my rag-topped Sebring,
tunes up, top down,
heralds the sunshine of Spring
at 80 mph through town.

And fellow freeway observers cheer at my hands:
dancin’ up in the air, like American Band Stand!

Morning Wake Up Call: Romantic IMprov Free Verse Poem

Your hair falls,
soft,
flowing gently,
capturing the morning’s
first gold.

Turning into you,
I face quiet beauty.
Silently,
trembling,
I move your flaxen strands
off your face,
behind your ear,
exposing your skin.

Leaning in,
my cheek hovers above
yours,
feeling your warmth,
like morning sunshine
pulls back the blanket
of the night.

My ear floats
above your lips
so I feel and hear
your deep, morning breath,
tranquil
and at peace.

My lips
part slightly
to breathe softly
into
your ear.

Quietly,
as sweetly and
with as low moan
as possible,
I whisper a gentle
“Good morning.”

You stir slightly.
My face drops soft
against yours:
Cheek against
skin,
my ear against your
mouth’s corner,
lips against
your ear.

I trust you hear
and feel
the sound of one soft,
tender,
breathless
kiss
reverberating
against your skin
and your hearing
through
to your mind
and then your
heart,
and then,
racing,
awakening
your soul,
with a gentle,
non-verbal
morning massage message
of love.

Golden haired sleeping beauty is the Muse for a morning wake-up call