How do I make sure/
she won’t feel objectified,/
yet still feels desired?
Tag Archives: working through issues
Post Valentine’s Day Sorrow: Romantic ImproVerse Haiku Lament
She has decided/
to ignore me. How, then, can/
I send her a hug?
Look Forward Through Mistakes: Revolutionary ConTEXTing Haiku
It’s when you look back/
that your rows in life become/
more crooked and off.
No Valentine Poem: Romantic ImproVerse Rhyming Haiku
I offered to write/
a gift poem. She said I had./
I won’t pen again.
Uncoiffed Thoughts — What’s Up In My Head At 4 A.M.: Revolutionary ImproVerse Rhyming Poem
What’s up with my head
as I stumble out of bed
and try to remove the poem
I dictated earlier into my phone?
It never should’ve been sent;
and no attack was meant.
‘Twas a statement from my brain
of my heart’s Deep Pain.
It was not to be perceived as an attack.
I should gladly arise to take it back.
But I’m just too damn tired.
My waking hours have expired.
So, when my hair is coiffed and cuter,
I’ll gladly go to my computer
and erase the message I dictated;
That, clearly, should’ve simply waited.
I’ll repeat, simply, that I’m so sorry.
That’s my early-morning story.
Dear Cupid: Romantic Blogging Iambic Poem
Dear Cupid:
This Valentine’s (Single Awareness) Day,/
Don’t let me be stupid.
Hold my fingers and tongue
so I won’t write or say
something dumb.
Oh. Wait.
Too late.
I already did.
Hey Cupid!
If you care,
do some repair.
Having Good Fun: Romantic ImproVerse Haiku Lament
When I was with her,/
my life was full of joy and/
fun. But now I’m not.
Return(ed) With Honor: Revolutionary Blogging Free Verse
The red sandstone lay,
slight dimpled drill hole,
square-cut right-angled block,
beneath an ancient cross-joist
floor timber.
I thought I could take it,
a memory of someone’s old home,
a house I’d often seen
before a geological disaster
mud-slid, then drowned it
and its town,
thistle down,
into near oblivion.
Utah’s Pompeii,
covered with mud
except for a few
cut-stone
structures.
This red sandstone rectangle,
90 degree
right angle cut
not found in nature:
No one would miss it.
The rough red
would create an awesome border
on my garden,
a new use for old stone.
But even as I hoisted it
and walked car-ward,
it seemed to say:
“Stay.”
Heading downhill,
I slipped on rain-soaked mud
and had to throw it as I fell
to avoid having it
crush my pelvis.
Sitting in the back
of my car,
it seems to whisper
“Take me home.”
I almost dropped it off
last night,
right after I nearly hit
a white-tailed deer
on State Route 89,
near where there jersey barrier
separates me
and the block
from the home
it has known
for a hundred years.
Do the stones
have souls?
Do the square-cut corners
and dimpled indentations
still hold memories
and longingly speak?
I do not know.
I do know
that it does not belong
with me,
in my garden.
So I willdid return it
with honor,
and will hopefully
not slip again.
And Now, Apple, What? Romantic Email Free Verse Poem
Now, I’ve returned.
Now, we’ve again met.
It was nice seeing
her again.
Now what?
My enthusiasm is not
rampant.
My desire is not
intense,
unlike the past.
But I’m not ambiguous, either.
I’m calm,
waiting,
like sap within
an old apple tree’s roots
after a long winter.
It waits to be warmed
by spring sun’s rays.
To rise up
and flow out
and push the buds
into blossoms
that explode
inscentandcolorandbeauty
and eventually
bear sweet fruit.
Outside, pink-red
like her lips and skin.
Inside, light gold
like her hair,
moist like the sap
that is starting, now, to move.
With stem to twist
and ask,
at harvest,
“Now what?”
Pick, and taste,
and savor the sweetness
and nourishment
.
Or ignore
until the fruit
grows past
what it could have been
and falls,
unnoticed,
to the ground,
where it bruises,
and turns brown
and sour
and rots.