In an old pile, in a drawer, a letter I found,
In dust it lay, lost, a whisper profound.
Faded ink, words weathered, but thoughts ever molded,
Emotions and feelings, in time's hold enfolded.
A first love's letter, hidden for years,
My wife cherished it, amid joys and tears.
Eternal love, promises aglow and bright,
Inscriptions of hope, beyond life's twilight.
Promises lost, 'I love you's' neglected,
I questioned my wife, emotions affected.
"Why keep this paper with vows untrue,
False love, fleeting, why hold onto?"
She blushed, then smiled, her reply unfurled,
"Your ad-libbed promise, a show to the world,
Yet etched with your feelings, this love imbued,
Became my sanctuary, the ultimate in gratitude."
Categories:
libbed, love,
Form: Rhyme
She said poetry
doesn't belong
in black and white format
tongue tied along
grammatical lines
of the English language
when I perform acts
that make her want to speak
Spanish
It should be exhaled
on skin when temps
drop below ten.
Closed eyes and
open imaginings discussed
in midnight forums
with me playing
Hall of Fame defense
against her offense
that's clicking on
all cylinders
Exhausted from all
the overtimes
She has a look
of divine as sunshine
creeps through
the edges of loosened sheets
I tend to agree
such things shouldn't be
written but lived out
in dramatic fashion
Splendidly ad-libbed
from what our minds
have been humming
Categories:
libbed, basketball, love, music, spoken
Form: Free verse
Act 1
Lights dim, a pregnant pause for silence to bedim.
A nod, then curtain rises, lights and eyes pries
Scene 1 to open with actors all set in pose enfrozen.
Called to action by director's wink, blink, nod of head.
Act 2
The play pans out as script reels unwind
Cued and checked by prompter nodding in the wings
Lest lines in memory slip and free fall
To crash in ad-libbed blabbered blusters.
Act 3
With a nod, last scene folds and curtain falls.
All actors scurry and clamber back on stage
For curtain call or calls, until claps subside satisfied.
One last nod calls it over, and actors slink off stage to wings
Categories:
libbed, celebrity, character,
Form: Free verse
They try to silence, say it's about violence,
repression, oppression, obsession,
ignorance is bliss, quess what they can kiss,
they slander, they pander
it's a knee-jerk reaction to the right-wing faction,
fear of something new (like people of hue?),
it's a sign of the times, it's loose but it rhymes,
they say it's not written-you gotta' be kiddin'-
it ain't ad libbed, you can't pull it from thin air,
I wonder what it is that's made them so scared?
It's about ANGST not ANGER you see,
poetry is art and art must be free.
So quit slamming the SLAM, those who don't understand,
it's a legitimate form, despite your scorn,
Look: I hate Haiku, but you can write 'em if you choose,
I got nothing to lose (I think they're a snooze)
you don't like it, don't read it,
but don't ban it just 'cause you don't understand it.
Categories:
libbed, on writing and words,
Form: Lyric
Most of the masses are gullible they swallow what their fed.
They feed on exotic canards, prejudice and fibs. Alcohols
Imbibed to dull the aftertaste and nothing goes to waste.
From birth to death it never changes each robbed of true identity
By unseen malevolent minds who sow these seeds of animosity,
Enmity and lies; all poisoned zombies (the living dead) who
Roam the earth mindlessly in numbers that are mind-boggling
To those of us still left. We often watch and hear their rants-
Dissonance of ad-libbed, ad nauseam and pledging of dead hearts
While humming individual anthems ad infinitum plus a day.
Follow what we say
Never, ever as we do
That’s our golden rule.
Categories:
libbed, philosophy
Form: Haiku