Raise A Redhead Glass: Romantic IMprov Haiku

I hoisted a glass/
of frothy red juice toward/
the West, her saucy.
OR
I hoisted a glass/
of frothy red juice westward,/
t’ward her fieriness.

Hopeless Romantics Repent! Romantic Email Sonnet

I see so many dating profiles where people categorize themselves as being a “Hopeless Romantic”. To such women, I wrote this:

Nobody/
should ever be/
a hopeless romantic./
That would be tragic./

Always be hopeful.
Then life’s more full.
Others will draw near
when we’re full of cheer.

The optimistic me
is who women would rather see.
And it also is true:
I prefer a hopeful you.

It brings me heartfelt sorrow and duress
to watch romantics wallow in hopelessness.

There is little quite/
so strange as seeing snow on/
purple martins’ roofs.

The late-spring blizzard/
didn’t seem cold, but it still/
turned the lakeshore blue.

How awesome to know/
that, in some way, we are all/
broken, but He heals.

He wondered where she’d/
go for fresh lime gelato/
and baked pizza dough?

Just in my home state/
would I buy potted veggie/
plants in a blizzard.

I think there was a/
moment when our eyes met, but/
then she looked away.

I’m told: “Turn right”. I/
do, and learn that God knows I’m/
lost before I do.

At what point does his/
flattering persistence turn/
to obnoxiousness?