Tag Archives: rhythm

Conjecturing What It’s About: Revolutionary Poem

Conjecturing what something’s about
won’t tell you what it’s about
until it comes about.

And once you find out
what it’s about
give me a shout
and we can talk it out
(’cause you’ll know what it’s about
without
a doubt).

Power Of Words: Revolutionary IMprov Poetry

Words can
be
powerful.
Damaging.
Magical.
Wonderful.

Those words
are not
“our word,”
but instead,
our words:
Those that we say
and write
right.

Those words
are also heard
in our heads.

Always ready.
Already steadily
knowing.

Though verbose,
I am not
a master of words.

They are my tools,
at times.
But other times
they scream so loudly
in my head
that they unravel,
unnerve,
weaken,
and destroy me.

To become a master
of words,
I must become the master
of my word-thoughts.

To Speak, To: Romantic IMprov Poem

I hope to speak with you again,
to assuage your worries,
to calm your fears,
to unravel your confusion,
to illuminate your path,
to enfold your shoulder,
to hold your hand.
to provide the goo
so desired by you.

What We Talk About: Revolutionary Blogging Poem

When we talk,
what should we talk about?
Flowers.
Weeds.
Flat
tires,
stomachs,
lines.

The gnomes
who roam.
Rome.
Phones.
Work.
Mold.
Getting old.
Being bald.

Family joy.
Family pain.
Music.
Art.
Dancing.

Everything we talk
about
that involves you,
that interests you,
interests me, and
involves me
emotionally.

I thought
what I was,
and what I was
doing,
was interesting.
I tried to involve
you,
because I thought
you, like me,
like me enough
to want to know;
to want to hear;
to want to be involved
in every nuance,
every iota,
every miniscule
minutea.

Why did I want to share “that”,
or anything,
all,
or at all,
with you?
Because I thought I,
and it,
was interesting.

Thank you
for pointing out
some things,
to you,
are not.

Thank you
for asking:
“Why did you feel
you needed
to share
that with me?”

That’s a good question.
I didn’t think
about it.
There was no reason.
I didn’t think
about any reason.
I just wanted
to share
part of my life.
An event that happened.
A quirky experience
I had with a friend,
that I wanted to share
with a friend,
thinking that friend
might be interested.

It’s silly of me
to think everything
in my life
is interesting
to you.

I guess I thought that it was true
because everything that happens to you,
to me,
is.