She thought that I slept,/
but I was simply watching o’er/
her while she slumbered.
Tag Archives: protect
Who Protects Vets? Revolutionary ImproVerse Haiku
He protected us/
and wrecked his life. Who of us/
will now protect him?
OR
They protected us/
and wrecked their lives. Who of us/
will lift and help them?
Her Last Son: A Birthday Gift — Revolutionary IMprov Free Verse Poem
I was IMing my youngest son, and the conversation turned toward what he could do for his mother’s upcoming birthday. I wrote this as a prompt for his music.
Happy Birthday,
IFK.
She was surprised/
when I came./
Unexpectedly/
a blessing in her/
age,/
a comfort, /
one more step/
back/
into her golden-haired/
youth./
Stong I became,/
and protected her/
as she guided me,/
shielding each other/
from life’s awful realities./
She always lifted/
and loved/
and supported/
and guided/
and nurtured/
and believed./
And now that I’m /
gone,/
she still does./
And she will always/
pray/
for me,/
because I/
am her,/
and hers,/
alone.
Building A Bubble: Romantic ImproVerse Haiku
Creating a new/
bubble isn’t as easy/
as I thought it’d be.
Bubble Pop: Romantic ImproVerse Haiku Lament
She was the only/
bubble I had to protect/
me from worldly junk.
OR
She was the bubble/
I used to shelter me from/
worldly garbage. Pop!
The Emergence Of The Grown, Cocooned Youth: Revolutionary IMprov Poem
The young,
optimistic s/he,
running,
happy,
care free,
observing,
enjoying,
creative,
Withdrew.
From fear,
through a desire
for self-preservation,
and wrapped itself
deep within
the shell
that grew
and matured
and thrived
and took the blows
and the arrows
and the doubts
and the pain.
But one day
the cocooned,
energized,
insightful,
observant,
joyful
protected being,
who had grown
and been nurtured
and cherished,
realized it was time.
Time to emerge.
Time to reveal.
Time to risk.
Time to take
its rightful place
as owner
and operator
and thinker
of its soul
and mind
and destiny.
It was scary,
at first,
to show itself.
To say “Here I am,
again,
for the first time.”
But it felt the warmth of the sun
on its face.
The cool breeze blowing through its hair.
The moist mist of early morning
fog lifting.
The passion
and compassion
of love.
And it knew,
having been sheltered
and protected
and nurtured
and walled
for so long,
that free,
and fearless
and embracing
and empowered
and enjoying
and joyful
was where it belonged.
Here.
Now.
Being.