Although folks react/
diff’rently, that does not mean/
they are right or wrong.
Tag Archives: pain
Beautiful Blue Bar Blonde, Alone: Romantic Email Free Verse
She sat in the middle-of-a-cornfield,
Up-on-the-Hill ,
Blues bar,
listening,
slow dancing,
sharing that loneliness drink,
(So much better
than drinking alone.)
One wondered how she,
blonde beauty,
could ever be left
weekend alone;
how her kind, caring
intelligence
and deep soul
would not draw someone
smart enough
to be kind and caring,
deeply,
always.
When he learned how she was,
he asked,
because she shouldn’t be
alone
as she was,
and he knew he
could change that
and her.
Because when she says she’s “sort of seeing someone”,
she’s admitting that she’s also kind of not.
Twisted Rumors And Gossip: Revolutionary ImproVerse Haiku
When people you trust/
turn judge and jury, before/
they execute, run!
Two Friends At Sin’s Door: Revolutionary IMprov Sonnet
Two friends
now stand at the same door
I had once entered
and exited, before.
One is heading out.
One might go in.
One is fleeing darkness.
One might embrace sin.
She who is leaving,
(as I also learned,)
knows the folly of entering;
knows evil should be spurned.
I will weep for joy as the one comes out,
and cry in anguish ‘til the other turns about.
Falsely Self Deprecating: Revolutionary IMprov Haiku
The pain of hearing/
her self-deprecate lessens/
when you know she’s wrong.
Eating Away The Pain Alternative: Romantic IMprov Haiku
He offered to change/
her life. Don’t eat Doritos;/
munch on Davidos.
Feeling Loss And Lost: Romantic ConTEXTing Haiku Lament
I feel loss and lost/
‘cuz I don’t know how to be/
or go without her.
OR
I feel loss and lost,/
not knowing how to be or/
go on without her.
Friend Zone Relegation: Romantic ImproVerse Haiku Lament
Her “kinda seeing/
someone” means although they’ll change,/
she’ll never know me.
Y B Sorry For Opportunities? Revolutionary IMprov Haiku
I would never say/
“sorry” when change opens new/
opportunities.
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.
