When you no longer have time
to receive my verse,
to accept the rhymes
that I reherse.
Yet you, still, are my muse
regardless of my heart’s folly,
or what I’ll use
(in terms of technology)
To deliver my lines
and my romance;
my feelings refined;
my desire to dance;
When you’ve put communication on the shelf,
I’ll find ways to write, and dance with myself.
Can I handle the touch?
I think so,
for when you’ve craved something so much
you relish every bite,
every morsel and taste.
You never let lips take flight,
nor waste
the tender newness
and gentle caress
of what you’ve waited so long for,
sans haste.
When I hold your hand/
can you stand/
a butterfly’s wings,/
(delicate, tender things,)/
unfolding as it fans?
Tracing across your palm and wrist?
Dancing lightly, like a butterfly’s kiss?
And then matching fingers’ gentle trace?
Moving up from your hand to cup your face?
Can you tolerate hand holding that grand?
If you can,
I might yet be your man.
Will you teach me,
and let me see
how you’ll reach me
without poetry.
Send your smile
from your sweet face.
Rest your gaze awhile;
fill my empty space.
Talk to me deep
with dulcimer tones.
In my mind creep
through touch, computers, phones.
Then, at last, when we again meet,
I’ll savor your wisdom with no repeat.
Sometimes I think in/
haikus. Sometimes I think in/
Blues. Sometimes I rhyme.
I can’t take credit for beauty’s Creation,/
but I will acknowledge my observation./
I view and grasp glory sans hesitation,/
from the grandest sunrise to the smallest crustacean./
Sometimes, I can feel His frustration/
as others walk the world in blind libation.
You think I write in form letters?
Would a poetic response be better?
Or would you prefer
something more demure?
I wonder: “What sort of letter would get her?” *(8:16 pm)
There!
A limerick.
It was pretty slick.
But do you care?
It’s probably the only one
you’ll ever get!
And you can think it fun,
but I’ll still bet
if I gave you my number,
you’d still slumber.
Would you call me?
I’ll try it and see!
XXX-YYY-ZZ22.
Now, let’s see what you’ll do.
Another Solution Limerick
You could give me YOUR phone number
and before I slumber,
I’d call you,
and then we two
could do something sans blunder!
At 2 a.m. I /
wake to see if u wrote me./
You didn’t and won’t.
I once dreamily thought/
That she was smoking hot.
But she’s just smoking,/
and I am not joking,/
she now is SO not!
When did you decide/
that I’d /
become worthy/
of silence, your deepest cruelty?/
Why me?/
Sad anniversary:/
One week/
since the last words/
I heard/
you speak.