Tag Archives: poems

A New Drink: Romantic Blogging Free Verse Poetry

Out in the scrub land,
surrounded by sage,
dry dust,
and a jackrabbit or two,
runs an old sulfur spring.

The water that oozes
from the alkaline soil
is slightly warm,
thick,
somewhat bitter tasting.

It’s not what a traveler
would normally choose,
but given the choice
between that and death,
in a pinch,
it will do.

She knows the path
to the sulfur spring well.
She’s trodden it many times.
It’s not hard to get to.
It’s well worn.
She can see the trail
in her sleep.
There’s not
a lot
else to view.

She knows the spring’s taste is
slightly off,
but she’s so familiar
with that path,
so smooth and easy,
and with the warm,
bitter water,
she finds it hard
to change.

“I’ve been here so often,”
she explains.
“And the taste isn’t
THAT bad.”
“You get used to it.”
“And it doesn’t take
much
effort.”

High on a mountain top
runs a cool mountain spring.
Fed by glacier melt
and late-developing snow storms,
its droplets struggle
through layers of limestone
which trap and remove
impurities.

The water which rises
and touches thirsty travelers
is breath-taking in its freshness
and purity
and crisp coolness.

Breath-taking
like the view
travelers get
from hiking there.
So much to see.
So much to appreciate.
“That drink,
and that view” people say
“makes it worth the effort.”

He offers
to take her
to that spring.
“Leave your well-worn path!”
he says.
“Struggle with me,
and try something new.”

She thinks about it,
for a moment.
But she’s so used
to the path!
So comfortable there!

He watches her go,
little dust devils
nipping at her heels
as she walks,
and walks,
and walks.

Pioneer
afraid to leave
comfortable trails.

He turns,
heart glad
from the vistas
before him,
yet sad.

He misses
that she is missing
what she is missing:
The sunset here.
The gold-painted peaks.
The crisp pine scent.
The cool, pure
naturally-filtered water.

He kneels
again
by the mountain spring,
and fills his canteen.
Then he fills
one for her,
for when she changes
her mind.

Waiting For The Face Plant: Romantic Blogging Free Verse Poem

You know that moment
when you trip
and begin to fall
and know you’re going
to crash and burn,
but haven’t hit yet?

The moment between
“Oh, crap!”
and “OUCH!”?

Asking someone out
on a date
via email
or instant message
or text,
and then hearing
only silence
is like that:

The moment
just before
the face plant.

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.