Tag Archives: Suffering

A Study In Early Morning Pain: Romantic ImproVerse Haiku Laments

I’m starting to write in sets. As with yesterday’s collection, this morning group of haiku starts with the earliest first, spread over a couple of hours.

Sunday, Oct. 28, 4:17 a.m.
Response To A Late Text
I sleep early to/
ease my pain, so I’m sorry/
if I don’t answer.
———
4:19 a.m.
Am I Angry?
It was never an/
anger, just a hurt caused by/
the constant silence.
OR
I’m never angry,/
just feeling hurt again by/
your constant silence.
OR
I’m rarely angry./
I’m feeling confused again/
by distant silence.
——-

4:43 a.m.
Finally Getting An Oldie
There’s a song that says:/
“I haven’t got time for the/
pain.” Now I get it.
——————
4:49 a.m.
Full Moon Alone
Does she care what it’s/
like to see a full moon with/
no one to share it?
——–

5 a.m.
Gooey Realization
I just realized:/
The warm goo inside of you/
is not there from me.
———–

5:13 a.m.
How Warm Feelings Are Lost
I shouldn’t have told/
you that I felt warm goo, too./
Silence vanished it.
———–

Just One? Revolutionary Blogging Poem

When did “Just one?”
become
a question
setting us numb?
and causing indigestion
when asked,
as aspersions are cast
at mealtime?

Couldn’t it be
just as easily
a statement
that meant:
“Oh, just one!”
as in good?
Like Solomon,
so understood?

Or Just as you are inside,
validated,
with nothing to hide?
Openly justified?

So instead of feeling duress
at mealtime,
avoid that stress:
Think of “Just one?” as sublime,
and joyfully answer “I am! Yes!”

Does Lonely Beget Anger? Revolutionary IMprov Free Verse Poem

Does lonely beget anger?
Do we all stand up
and beg to be noticed
even as we hide?

Does attention-getting
beget rejection?
And the more we try
to be accepted,
the more distant
and lonely
we become?

No wonder
we are ticked off
at each other.
But who notices
except us?

A Painful Birthday Poem For My Daughter: Revolutionary ImproVerse Sonnet Lament

I stuck out my foot and broke her arm.
I laughed ’til she cut her face.
I watched her play ’til a shoulder
blew harshly out of its place.

I held her, gently, down
as needles tapped her spine.
She looked at me, surprised,
and winced but didn’t whine.

I sat there and listened
as she poured out what was inside.
It was my shoulder she reached for
when she broke down and cried.

But none of those childhood pains can even start
To compare to the trust lost when I broke her tender heart.